The Bin Man

November 25th 1960. Evan Bell lifted a dustbin almost heavier than himself down a few steps to the dust cart in the street. He hated that particular household; they put everything in the bin; glass; card; plastic bottles. Evan always felt that a lot of rubbish could be re used in some way.

But most people thought he was a little odd and never really listened to him. As he reached the last few steps he somehow lost his footing, slipped and fell. He broke his leg badly, injured his shoulder and a cracked couple of ribs. For the next few months he was in a wheel chair, unable to work. One night Evan was sat at the kitchen window staring out at the stars. He suddenly picked up a pen and wrote on the back of an old gas bill envelope. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to write a letter. So after supper each night he did the same. He always re used envelopes or the back of letters he didn’t need. He wrote to the same person and created a pen pal. An unusual one, for two reasons; He lived on another planet and never wrote back. But that didn’t matter to Evan, he could write whatever he liked, he could tell Michael anything. Michael was probably his only friend. Evan was 20 years old. He had only lived in Brighton for two years. He moved down from Newcastle when his parents died. He loved the sea and the way everyone was so friendly and...cool. Yes that was it Brighton was very cool. He liked the clothes and the clubs. He didn’t have much money, so getting a job as a bin man was perfect. Just until he figured out what he really wanted to do. Now he had time on his hands, so he continued to write. He posted them all, imagining some secret sorting office at NASA that would deliver to our planetary solar system or beyond. He posted all 300 letters, all except one; it blew away one evening, when he tried to post it during a storm. It didn’t matter though. By then Evan was almost fully recovered, he’d needed two more weeks of physiotherapy and then he could work. Once he’d recovered he soon lost interest in writing to Michael, though not completely. He wrote once or twice a week and it still gave him comfort. But now he’d made a couple of friends and there was even a girl on the scene. They started dating and within weeks she was all he could think about. Beatrice Cully - eyes as warm as the Mediterranean; teeth as white as winter. She was from New Jersey, USA and a doctor. But her real ambition was to be an astronaut. Beatrice completed Evans almost full life, and with friends, work and marriage plans... Michael was completely forgotten. Years passed so quickly, good times always move faster. “That’s why you kids are always in such a hurry...” said Granny Beatrice. “...worried the good times’ll up and leave ya behind.” She gave a soft chuckle and tapped on the back door window pane signalling her husband to come in. “Evan!” She called when he didn’t look up. A tall, slender man with rolled up shirt sleeves was in the garden picking nettles for tea and wild garlic for a salad. His once dark long hair, still long enough to tie back but now was almost completely white. “Morning love” he said kissing his wife. “Is that Spike on the phone?” “Yep, wants to talk to you, about Lissy.” Beatrice handed Evan the phone. “Alright Son? How are you? Is Lissy OK”? “Hi Dad, I’m good. Hot as hell over here but we’re good....listen, Lissy is coming to England!” “What?” Evan glanced at Beatrice, beckoning her to the phone. “Hang on Spike, I’ll put you on loud speaker, so’s mum can hear.” “I already know” nodded Beatrice. Spike continued. “Ok, so there’s some big science and government meeting happening, it’s all top secret, but it’s got to do with Brighton and NASA.” “NASA!” Evan felt strange, as if someone had just tapped him on the shoulder and then disappeared, as though a sleeping memory had just sat bolt upright in his head. As he and Beatrice glanced at each other, a feeling of concern passed between them. “Well it’ll be great to see her. When does she get here?” asked Evan. “Should be with you by tomorrow morning, she said not to pick her up, she’s staying in London tonight and will catch a train in the morning and cab to you.” “No no, I’ll get her from the station.” Evan insisted. “She won’t like it; you know how independent she is.” “Tough! Now, how’s my grand children?...” They chatted long into the afternoon and then Evan went back to the garden. He was a devoted gardener and environmentalist; he grew all their own food, kept chickens and recycled everything. That was the thing he loved most about Brighton. There were a lot of like minded people who felt strongly about the impact peoples lifestyles had on the earth and wanted to do something about it. They’d moved out to live near Washington D C after Beatrice gave birth to Lissy. Beatrice got a job at NASA. She never got to be an astronaut, but was happy with her career as a physician. They loved Brighton and Hove and decided to return there and become totally self sufficient when they took early retirement. In the morning Evan waited on the platform of Brighton Station for Lissy. Her train pulled in two minutes late. A small framed woman wearing a dark suit and black boots struggled onto the platform with a large suitcase; she slipped as she stepped down and fell onto her case. Evan cried out and at the same time saw himself again a young man falling over his dustbin all those years ago. “Hey, you alright darling?” he said, hurrying to help Lissy up. “Oh dad, hey, I think I’ve packed way too much. Good thing you came.” Evan laughed. They went to a small cafe outside the station and ordered breakfast. “Where’s mum?” Asked Lissy. “At the shops, getting dinner. Now what’s all this about? I mean it’s lovely to see you but I wasn’t expecting you until Christmas!” “Oh Dad, there’s some really strange stuff going on, I don’t think I can say much, but it’s something about some letters they’ve found.” She said, pulling her long, dark curls into a bunch and sighing. “Letters? Who found letters?” Asked Evan. “The post office!” She laughed, “It’s funny really. They said they’ve got nearly 300, all on old bills and envelopes, all addressed to NASA! Really bizarre...not even stamped...” But Evan was gazing at her, his mouth open. “Dad you alright, you look pale?” “I...I...” he couldn’t get the words out. “Dad! What is it?” Slowly Evan began to tell Lissy all about the letters and about Michael, his imaginary pen pal. “What? Dad, are you serious?!” Evan nodded, “I didn’t think anything of it, it was just something to do, you know. I had no friends; I was in that damn wheelchair for months. I just started to write to him. I never really knew why.” “Michael you say? And you think these are the same letters?” Asked Lissy. Evan sighed heavily. “Well I don’t know. Anyway, I got better, met your mother and forgot all about it.” “Well, I don’t think he forgot you.” Evan frowned and looked embarrassed. “No Lissy, he wasn’t real. He was my...imaginary pen pal.” “Dad, this is connected. These letters, things you wrote got out to someone and everything in them, everything you wrote about. It’s been happening! Dad this is incredible. I need make a call.” “I don’t understand” said Evan. “Well I wasn’t going to tell you anything, but now I know you’re the letter writer, I’ve got no choice.” “What’s going on Lis?” asked Evan. “NASA made contact with...with another species...” “...Contact? Species? What do you mean?” “About 40 years ago their satellites spotted some kind of craft headed back and forth from the same place. At first the sightings were very rare, but over the years the visits increased, but always to exactly the same place.” “NASA?” “No Dad, Brighton!” Evan raised his eyebrows and gulped some coffee. “In the letters you wrote to Michael complaining about the waste, all the rubbish we throw away. You said you wish there was a way to get rid of it all. Do you remember Dad?” “Yes I remember. I spelled out to him all the ways we could re use bottles, cans, card, tins and everything else. I was inspired. I don’t know where the ideas came from, but just before I stopped writing to him, I suggested that he take all the rubbish back...” Lissy finished his sentence, “...to his planet and use it there.” “Lissy no....this is ridicu...” “...Yes Dad, it happened! It’s real! Another species somehow read or knew about the letters and did exactly what you said. All the ideas from eco fuel production to sustainable homes. It’s all happening, all of it, but on another planet.” “But how did they...this species, get to see the letters?” “Well they didn’t exactly read them...they read you.” Evan sat back and scratched his head. “While you were writing, your thoughts became intensified, it’s rare, but you where so utterly focussed on your intent, and some beings, well, they can pick up on thoughts like radio waves, your thoughts were information. These beings can surf the Ethernet for thought information.” “Like surfing the internet?” asked Evan. “Yes but it’s Ethernet Dad, and your thoughts have to be very clear, you have to be someone who knows exactly what he wants, someone who is focussed. And you have to admit Dad, you are a bit of a control freak at times.” “Don’t start all that again, your mum was very happy to move back to England.” “Yeah, right dad. Anyway the letters are really just rough prints of your thoughts, but the actual thoughts, were pure and specific. The beings from this other planet connected to you. I think it’s the way we’ll communicate in the future, the way we’re evolving. And these aliens want to set up some like of school here, to teach us more. ” “What here!? In Brighton?” “Well this is where is all started dad. With you.” “So the travelling back and forth to Brighton, was that to collect all the rubbish?” Evan asked. “Yes. They’ve found it to be a valuable resource. But it’s not just household refuse. They’ve been taking tires, metal, electronic stuff, and clearing landfill! Oh it’s just incredible. Really they’re doing us a service. But...” Lissy paused. “But?” “They need more and this county only has so much, they need to widen their search.” “The rest of the country?” “For now. They live on a tiny planet, it’s part of a cluster of other planets. They need more resources to build new homes. Maybe the rest of the world can share too.” “Free resources eh?” “Well, not exactly. They are shifting an awful lot of our waste. Waste we don’t seem to know how to deal with yet, but that’s the other thing. The schools they set up will teach us that too. New ways to work with our environment, new ways to become more sustainable. They have taken your ideas dad and come up with wonderful ways to protect our planet. It’s the perfect exchange!” “It’s risky; other countries might not be so keen to buddy up with aliens.” “Well, one thing at a time. Maybe in the States, mom and I can help, especially with our connections at NASA.” “What now?” “I call London and we meet here.” At 4am the next morning Evan, Beatrice and Lissy were driven to a secret location in Brighton. An office built below sea level, with an entrance on the West Pier. They got into a boat and rowed quietly to a container with large rusted doors. The doors were opened from the inside and the three climbed out and stepped through while the silent boat man rowed back. The inside was a white wall with a large, clean, steel panel in front of them. A female voice said ‘Doors opening.’ A seam appeared in the panel and it separated. They were taken deep below the sea and when the elevator doors opened there was a large room before them. It was bright, but comfortably lit. White monitors lined the side walls, surrounding a huge, black, round table in the centre. Sat around the table was a surreal gathering. Government officials from the UK and USA, a woman from NASA, The mayor of Brighton, Some Bin men, environmentalists, a local politician and a post man. There was one other. He was taller than the others and wore a long cape and hood. In his hand he held a piece of paper. Beatrice immediately recognised her old colleague from NASA who smiled reassuringly. The mayor of Brighton stood up and greeted them. “Welcome, all of you, come and sit with us. Evan, this is a dream come true, your dream, I believe.” Evan struggled to take it all in. The mayor continued. “I have someone here who is rather keen to meet you.” The tallest man removed his hood; he looked almost human, though his skin had a soft bluish tinge. And he seemed to be glowing ever so subtly, there was a distinct light about him or from him. His eyes were slightly larger than ours; the irises were definitely bigger and violet. He had the most loving smile; it immediately put everyone in the room at ease. Then he stood up, his proportions were perfect, but he did indeed tower over everyone in the room. He looked directly at the new arrivals and spoke. “Hello Evan, I cannot tell you how happy I am to meet you." He held up a battered brown envelope and said, "I think this one got away.” Recognising his own handwriting, Evan trembled, overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions, but mostly he felt pure love and struggled not to cry. But he took a deep breath, nodded knowingly and said, “Hello Michael.” The End

My Place

I am in a new place today.

The sand is pink and yellow, a bit like sherbet. I like it.

The sky is as blue and as pale sapphires and set in those jewels is the sun.

Which I practice staring at.

It's not easy, I squint at first. Peeping through my thick, wet eyelashes.

It's not the colour they say it is in all my books.

It's red, purple, green, blue and yellow

I might go for a swim. I can swim very well in this place.

The water is warm and deep and friendly. Dark but clear.

Here in this indigo world I can see everything much better.

I am not afraid, well not all the time.

I find when I press my toe into the pink grains, it is sweet, very sweet and I can taste
with every part of my body.

This is my place today, I'm going to stay here, see who turns up.

Plenty

Her cream cheeks full of sweet crab claws and kelp.

Plump, coral lips and little eyes that twinkled like green crystals.

And hair that hung and clung to pudgy rolls of milky
white fat.

She would not swim for supper like all others.

As her tiny tail flipped and slapped, she sang,

'Oh how I wish I was little, but I love to snack and hate to
swim.

So I’ll sit and slap stones with my tiny shiny tail.

And find a big burly wave to carry me home.

My skinny white sisters swoop, dive and tire.

I shall not crack a sweat nor make pointless fatigue.

Or stop eating when I’m full, I shall never be full.

And such a big ocean, with so many of them and so much of me.

So I will never be lonely, not really…………..not me?’

Forest

I wish I were in the forest,
Not walking, but hiding. Unseen.
I could be a leaf, amongst the others,
Blending in but not the same.
A drop of water; my father the sun.
My mother the rain.
I could be the soft dirt, under bare feet,
between baby’s toes.
The yellow powder in the fragile rose,
I sneeze and it explodes.
I could be the mist that rests on fur and web.
It rises up to catch air along the river’s ebb.
The trapped monarch’s dark wing,
Beating frantic rhythms for a dancing spider.

The wedding morning

The wedding day
It was early morning, too early for anyone to be awake or to realise that
this was an important day just beginning, the colour of peach.
And all around a few people due to come together that day, drifted
in and out of sleep; in between awake and dreams.

The first birds clears it’s soft throat and calls.
A reminder, that sends a shot of excitement through a young woman’s heart.
She is awake, the colour of white.

The phone rings, she leaps to answer it, a well wishing father, a caring mother,
a good friend. She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at her dress, it is like
another woman in the room and she speaks to it. “Well it’s me and you kid…
…And him of course.” She smiles. “Him” the colour of pink.

Everywhere, people are bathing, showering, dressing, applying make-up,
fussing with ties, kilts, socks, bras, earrings, rings…rings? Rings?…Ah yes Rings-
the phone rings again! A friend overseas who can’t be here, she sends love and hugs and she cries a little with the young woman, who has to re apply
her mascara, the colour of chocolate.

A last look in the mirror, she admits to herself that she is perfect!
Well everyone else is saying it!
The car arrives and she steps out to meet her father, she is nervous and blissful.
He is nervous and proud, so proud, the colour of gold.

The guests arrive, the groom arrives, the sun arrived hours ago, but he told rain and she arrives, doesn’t want to miss the celebrations, so sun and rain turn up, and they’ve brought rainbow too, and she is gorgeous, the colours of red, yellow, orange, purple, blue, white, gold, peach, chocolate, pink…. the colours of you.

Autumn

I looked up and Autumn was glaring hard, down at me, Just me.

The colours in her skin, changed, moving across her face.

Her eyes were clouds just before the storm.

I felt as though I were doing something wrong.

As though she were about to pick me up and throw me against a tree.

Her golden brown and orange hair flurried down the street and into
the church yard.

And I was held in her deep gaze until she said,
“I’m here.”

I hurried into the house, and slammed the back door.
I loved Autumn, but feared her strong presence.

I could smell her a while back, and then the air changed as Summer fled.
And Autumn cried in the distance “I will not be ignored, while you take
my harvest.

So I welcome you Autumn, even though Winter follows you everywhere and
stays far too long!

Bless you Autumn and your abundance, stay a while, take an offering and when you leave I will sweep up your brown hair and feed it to the garden.

Home

I looked behind me, I glanced and the glance turned into a long gentle study of things I liked.

Layers of open doors and curtains; peeps of a small hallway and a handmade draft excluder.

Checkered fabric pockets hang on deep grape walls that make me see, I now have a home.

A thank you card that is my view into a colourless yet atmospheric woodland.

And two carved elephants sit together whispering atop the speaker.

I do not normally allow things to sit on my speakers as they already have a function and shelves are best for sitting on if you are small and carved.

I do have chairs; that sit you up nicely! Garden green with floral prints, pinned back, upholstered and bronze studded.

Beautiful and uncomfortable and anyway I prefer to sit on the floor and admire the chairs.

There is a sofa you could slouch in, but I don't want to talk about that. Except to say that Le Chat Noir poster has slipped from its frame and glares at me from it's new home - behind the sofa.

It's 3.03pm and behind the blinds are clouds and behind the clouds is the sun.
But I still have enough colours in my room to make me see that I have a home.