The Dream

The streets of London were nothing like he had ever seen before. He’d thought that since his childhood things might have changed. But everything had grown worse. He carried on down the filthy streets that they called London. He didn’t know where he was going to end up. He just knew he had to keep on walking. He stopped at the chemical factory just like before. It was the same as it had always been.

Ugly. The concrete brick building that was raided with the cloudy puff of thick black smoke. It looked more like a prison than a factory. Who would have thought that this factory was once the best hotel in Europe? No. The world. But now all that had been left was the garden upon it. The garden used to be the greatest thing about the hotel. He remembered the sound of the nature that was once here but had now turned into a distant memory. It was like it had never even been here. The sound of the birds in the trees singing and humming. The tree’s rustling and bustling in the autumn breeze. The sound of crunching when you step on the leaves. Even the sound of the wind, breezing past him on an autumn’s day. It was all gone.

The timid animals that would always be close behind but always came near in the end. The trees with their everlasting branches. The flowers blooming with all the colours you could ever dream of. The smell of the newly mown lawn. This is what made the garden so special to him. But now the only noise around him was an awful eerie silence. The sound alone was enough to make him go mad. The garden that was once such a peaceful haven to him was now a rubbish tip People came and went. Dropping their litter on the one thing, he had once called “home.” Broken bottles and beer cans were strewn here and there throughout the garden that now lead up to the big puffing smoke plant that they called a factory. Flowers had been stomped on by careless people who couldn’t give a damn. The smell of the newly mown grass was gone, and in it’s place the stench of rubber burning, so strong that he felt sick.

The people here were more like monsters to him than human beings. They possessed no feelings for what they had done to the greatest gift on this world. Nature.

They’d destroyed every part of the garden until this is what it had become. The garden was now alone and forgotten. The man felt sorry for it. At least he’d given a thought to what had once become a home to him on many occasions. And now this is what had become of Marland garden. The best their could ever be in London.

He suddenly looked up at the night sky and carried on walking until he had turned into a side street. He now knew where this was taking him, but the why still clung in his head like a lost memory. Down the path with the red gate he went. He didn’t even see the number of the house, but only could see the bottle top green door with the small opened window at the side. He walked towards the door and knew he was getting ready for the dreaded image inside. This was it. This is what he had been dreading. The final part. The door opened on its own account. He walked drudgingly in hoping that it would soon end. The room was dark. He couldn’t even see the contents of the room. The only light available was in the far corner. He walked onwards aware that this was the part he had been fearing. As he came closer the light blinded him, making him shield his face for protection.

Then the image came.

A boy. He was either standing or sitting in the far corner of the room. He couldn’t tell which. His figure now lit up the whole of the room. He couldn’t see the face off the boy. Or even what he looked like. All he could see was the carrot topped head. The figure turned his head. Those eyes.

Those pain stricken eyes……