The rain dripped from the darkened, heavy sky in a predictable pattern, hitting the corrugated iron rooves of the ageing cityscape [AZ1] with a ‘plop’ then gently flowing down the smooth, rusty surface until it fell, not onto a single rose, or even several[AZ2] , but onto the flawed concrete surface below. So much for the positive aspects of the city, because the rest of it is considerably less pleasant, the exaggeration of which is left to the tourism industry.
And so another typical—yet decidedly ultimate—day in the life of Marcus began, a virtually invisible, insignificant human being who had been your everyday corporate worker until a few years ago. As such, he represented what the Bureau of Statistics reported as an average citizen, one who does nothing of note and merely lives a deindividualised[AZ3] life until they hit their expiry date, at which point they are sent to Relaxing Retirement Homes. Those who go there never come out again: except for funerals[AZ4] . Funerals that, with government planning, happen within a year of retirement. Funerals that are carried out by Burial Co with uniform apathy in 15 minutes or your money back.
What made him different to everyone else though, were his personal circumstances[AZ5] . Describing his entire life story would be much too melancholic, not to mention dreary, so it shall be summed up here in a short excerpt of his life, as impersonal as possible for accuracy.[AZ6]
In his first two decades of his life, he was a good student at HAPS and HAHS (High Achiever’s) in all meanings of the term[AZ7] . Just like his cohort, he had no trouble attaining tertiary education, and was awarded honours in his combined degree in Science and Medicine.
He ascended the spiral staircase with discernable difficulty, like a leopard trying to recall its former glory in vain, and then giving up in response to pain. The pain of moving forward. His body, no longer under the control of his conscious mind[AZ8] , continued carrying out the directive burned into his subconscious. A directive which knew no reason yet guided him.
Go up.
[AZ9] His entire life, he had been guided to achieve higher and higher goals set down by his superiors[AZ10] , to climb the stairway of success. In this regard, he was an exceptional marathon runner showing no signs of slowing down. That was, until he met the fascinating, if not beautiful female that he had ever seen. Her name was Rose and although she was certainly not an airbrushed model, the way she talked, laughed and moved quickly caught his attention and before he knew it, they were married, Mr Marcus and Mrs Rose Green.
He emerged from the doorway[AZ12] onto an almost ancient, yet well kempt and familiar rooftop [AZ13] of the building. It had stopped raining for quite a while now, although there were still a few greyish islands dotted about the gaseous ocean. The artificial turf reflected unnatural green wavelengths of sunlight into his eyes, the unusual level of lustre startling him for a brief moment for the umpteenth and last[AZ14] time. He gulped large quantities of air, first to regain his composure, second to engage his olfactory senses.
A[AZ15] bouquet of flowers—nothing special, just a few lavenders and carnations here and there to add colour—that he bought from the corner shop for his wife. In their backyard garden, it might have just been a rock: the garden[AZ16] was nothing short of a paradise. Everywhere you turned there were bright vivid colours of assorted roses and tulips; the scent of gardenias and lilies permeated the scene; from the boughs of a young tree hung juicy apples; finally, the sound of rustling leaves and gently flowing water gave the place a Zen-like quality.
His wife accepted the joke in her usual[AZ17] good humour, her head rested upon his lap, his legs generating the work needed to swing the seat, the two of them oblivious to the troubles of the world from their lofty shelter.
The rooftop[AZ18] smelled like a disorientated spring that has overstayed its welcome, the artificial fragrances puffed out of the automatic dispersers engaging his nasal cavity in a way which could only be described with one word: disgust. Ironically, he never bothered to use shampoo now that there were no contrived standards to adhere to, no one to impress or please[AZ19] . He now walked to the far end of the roof, where a large , and peered into the depths below.
Her death did not come as a surprise at their age and location. Her funeral was as quick as one in the industry would expect, leaving Marcus in a state of mute silence next to her generic tombstone engraved “R.I.P. my love, I will see you soon.” Resting at the top of the stairway was an old man, a contented smile crossing his face, whose body had finally taken its share of life, as he took his final step on the stairway and began his freefall towards the unknown from which he was born, to where his beloved had gone before him.
R.I.P. Marcus and Rose Green.
[AZ1]Iron rooves in cities are uncommon
[AZ2]Subverting a clichéd phrase, is this okay?
[AZ3]A psychology term, refers to the
[AZ5]Again, expand into his life story. Try not to make it like rabbit hole.
[AZ6]This could be removed, it seems of sub-par quality.
[AZ7]Seems to be the wrong phrase, revise
[AZ8]Rephrase so that it is known that his letting his mind flow free
[AZ9]Insert a paragraph on his life.
[AZ10]Replace with diff word, those that he had to respect
[AZ11]WOAH MAD HAX, TIES THE PAST (METAPHOR?) WITH THE PRESENT. MUST DO THIS FOR THE ENDING
[AZ12]Consider removal, pending word count
[AZ13]Comparing the roof of the building [hospital] to the man’s aging head
[AZ14]Continues the blah
[AZ15]This section is pure imagery – it may require deletion pending word count.
[AZ17]may delete
[AZ18]Returns the reader to the present, replaced [It]
The tone at the beginning is pretty unique- it's good.
ReplyDelete"bouquet of flowers—nothing special, just a few lavenders and carnations here and there to add colour—that he bought from the corner shop for his wife."
The part between the dashes might be a tad long.
And haha for the rock garden part.
Why am I still up.
And haha, you remembered about the Marcus :)
ReplyDelete