The Seeding

Chapter 1 - The Arrival Event

'Bloody Hell woman did' you see that?'

'Jeeeesus Christ! You scared the liv'in daylights outta me!' exclaimed Jean with a fright "what the 'ell d'ya wan-ta go frighten me like that fer? see what anyways? What you on about you silly old beggar!", cussed Dave's wife of 40 years, an easily startled, overweight 50 something; a long suffering drudge of a woman who's girlish desires for something better, had long since slid downhill like the figure she once had, gone like dawn dreams, those dreams we all grab at but never quite manage to hold onto.

Jean's dreams were truly gone! The kind, loving husband she had always wanted, the kids she'd always expected but which never came, the grand children that would now never be, they were all once possibilities, back when there was still time, still hope. But not anymore. Far too late for all that nonsense, 'that silly old sod ain't gonna get any better' she grumbled to herself, 'redundant from the factory, he'll never work again, likes the tele too much and the booze', the thoughts of hopelessness and despair cultivated through years of hard work and drudgery, had hardened into a sullen bitterness bringing her to an existence - this existence. Not much but it was hers.

'You silly old git! You proper frightened me yes you did! Wot you doing out 'ere anyway? Creeping up on a woman in the dark like that - Can't even hang out the bleedin washin', she mumbled, adding under her breath 'you're bleedin washin!'

'Shur-rup ya silly cow! Didn't you see that up there just na? Bleedin shootin star! Aint seen wunna them since I were a kid'.

' You Wot? Shootin bleedin stars is it now!' snapped Jean, slowly turning, hands on hips, peering over the top of her pink National Health specs with an exaggerated school-teachery look, hands on hips, elbows out and a look of mock surprise, 'shootin stars! Ha, shooting stars is it, you wanna cut down on that cheap cider, yer silly git - shootin stars - one too many pints more like it....shootin bleeding stars' she continued grumbling to herself, turning back to the pegging out. 'You wanna be careful yes ya do, I seen it all before, im two doors down, e started seeing things, the docter said twas his liver! Too much drink more like it. I says to ees missus -, you wanna be careful or he'll be a goner! was I wrong? nope! Did'ny last n'more than two weeks....' Turning back to face Dave, to force home the point 'you'll go the same way! You mark my words! Don't go moaning to me when your laid out in yer box cause you could'ne leave the booze alone - shooting stars - what ever's it coming too?' Hah! 'silly old gits snuck off again' she cussed turning back to the washing, 'that's how it starts - seeing things and sneaking about, can't be doing with seeing things that aint there nor sneaking about frightening a woman'.

'Awe Ginge where you bin, wot you been up- to eh?' Jean's one joy in life slid down from the rear wall, meowing loudly as he came sideling over, rubbing himself against Jean's swollen and heavily bandaged varicosed legs, 'As if I don't know, you naughty boy!' her full attention now drawn to the overweight ginger tom, meowing the way only spoilt cats can, cats well versed in the art of seduction, knowing exactly how to win tasty tit-bits, 'Come here my lovely, lets be 'avin a little kiss and a big cuddle' Jean lent awkwardly, her over tight trackies straining under the pressure as she struggle to pick up the enormous fat ginger cat - the baby she'd never had. 'Who's a lovely big puddy then' she said snuggling him into a fat jowly cheek. 'Come on let's get you in and see if we got some'at nice for yer tea? You knows how I luv's ya and you luv's me too don'ya? Not like that lazy no good git indoors with is shootin stars' Come on Ginge its getting cold out ere, I reckon there might be a frost tonight, lets get you in.

Dave, a gaunt, wiry little man with prominent bad teeth and breath to match, his receding silver hair, far too long at the back for a man of his age, an effort to hang on to the false image of a youthful free spirit, and sporting a gold ear stud, was already back in his favourite position, slumped in a grubby, well worn easy chair no more than six feet in front of an over sized wide screen TV - far too big for the room, a six-pack of cheap cider and a tin of rolling baccy and papers within easy reach...The fact that he alone, the only person on the planet to see the onset of the biggest catastrophe to face the entire human race, the only being to witness the arrival event that was to change the course history for all humanity, an event, witnessed through a drunken haze, already fading to a vague memory, a memory wandering off through a pathetic drunken fog.