Honeycombs and Bittersweets

Chapter Five ~ An Escape in the Rain

                                                                  Chapter Five

                                                           An Escape in the Rain

A continuous plummeting downpour echoed constantly throughout the desolate streets of London, making life coming to an abrupt halt with the long tireless arrival of foul weather. The sky was streaked with grey holding the afternoon sun captive, as the warm remember able summer days had come to pass to an enjoyable end. The lack of sunshine had now become the sign of oncoming storms and chilling nights to come, as the arrival of autumn anticipated the beginning of accustomed winter for most that dwelled there. The cold had already made its early announcement for the shivering days to come stopping every source of merriment for many months.

Today was of no exception of its costumed tradition. Only a lone soul was out unprotected and unshielded from the pouring onslaught of rain, the sound of the rain deafening his small ears. His fine clothes were completely drenched and shrilled, his shoes filled with water from the amount of countless puddles he had travelled through. His hair dripping wet as thousands of droplets of rain fell from the ends his matted hair, as the rain ran down his face.

He stood there completely motionlessly staring into space at a large abandoned poor area of Flaunders Road; he did not know what had driven him there to that particular part of London that held no prier interest. He had run there without knowing why, careless to what on seers that took shelter in shops thought of him running through the rain of a person of his known status. All he knew is that he needed to be here, the place which had haunted his mind for many months as that enticing little sweet song was forever embedded in his head.

For months he had longed to return to this dark empty place, which had once held no meaning to anyone but him. It was a place that had once given him peace that he remembered often when it was gloomy, but now it was as abandoned as ever. There were no signs of the existence of a singing angel, or evidence of golden wrappers of succulent traditional sweets left on the ground. What had once happened was now indeed a memory, which would never again be relived or experienced once more.

Hope had left him seeping down from his desperate heart for he needed to replenish the feeling of peace, but now he felt as empty and alone as the rain as disappointment squeezed his heart and plagued his mind. Dashing any hope he had left in his small body as all he could do is stand there staring at the wooden crates that had remained piled against the wall, perfectly aligned and forgotten as before but had now etched with grim and dirt that had manifested itself with time.

The stillness of the unmoved place now only held a memory that always pleasantly plagued him, as he had always wished to return to this place in hopes to reencounter with the boy with an angelic voice.

He had had enough.  His young life had become too smouldering and crowded with endless demands he was expected to meet, fun had become an appointment to him as the choices of friends were of his mother’s choosing and not his own, for his mother deemed them appropriate company for him and only came at her demand. Today was the last straw of her tireless list of expected accomplishments and achievements; he had tried to rebel against her endless demands and many a time it had been laid on deaf ears. Many a time his father would intervene and raise up to his defence, but today had once again fallen on deaf ears and had become an argument of opinion and home truths.

His father had blamed her for his son’s lack of imagination from starvation of freedom and being creative as a toddler, while she changed the topic abruptly from answer his accusation. As she made the excuse that she did not want him to be like all the common confectioners that followed empty dreams. And become another pathetic dreamer.

Usually at times like these of distress he was comforted and guided away by his caring Grandfather, but today he happened to be on a well-deserved outing and would not return till later in the evening.

For once he took charge of his life in that moment and decided to escape until he knew that his Grandfather had returned, and retired into the library for the remainder of the day. He needed to be free and be as far away from his home as long as possible, since running through the gates of his home he felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and a  heavy burden no longer hovered over his head. His new found freedom had left him clueless only his feet guided him closer to the familiar street of Cobblers Lane, and as soon as he saw that distinctive corner at he ran across the lifeless road, without caring or taking a thought about stepping into deep uneven puddles even as he reached the other side of the pavement.

His feet had a life of their own as he raced without hesitation down Flaunders Road which was no longer murky like it was before many months ago, when he and his father had first heard the voice of a singing angel.

Standing alone in this vacant area he could only be reminded of what had once occurred in this little peculiar unnoticeable area, as ghosts from time before rehearsed themselves in that one thrilling moment as the boy sang melancholy to the on looking curious audience. Advertising that small little sweet that rested in his small frail hands, as his voice still raw in his brain as he could mesmerise each word that he had spoken like a crazed tune that had to be replayed over and over again all the time. He licked his still eager lips like before as he remembered that golden brown succulent sweet that was thrown to the crowd, how he wished he was given the chance to taste it. But he knew it simply isn’t done.

All that was here now was an empty desolate place that held a small wishful unfulfilled dream and a sweet remember able memory of an experience he would never forget for the rest of his life.