Heather Field Photography: March 2011

A horrible realisation dawned, this time there was something wrong. Preparing for the worst she hurriedly packed away her belongings and stood up. The caravan was jostling with activity, every seat was taken. The room swam with faces; they stared back with empty smiles and shallow eyes, no recognition. Even the music provided her with no comfort; she had to find somewhere else to endure what was to come. As she left the room, stumbling down the steps in to the pitch dark outside, she felt her mind do the same. No one could help her; she’d gone too far this time.

The sounds and lights faded as she moved into the ocean of infinite blackness. This was a lone mission and although she knew her return was imminent, doubt took a firm grasp of her faith. In this place there was nothing. She walked on. Her whole life had been leading to this moment; she had fulfilled her own prophecy. It was the final mistake. It all made sense. Her bag slumped from her shoulder onto the ground; it wasn’t needed where she was going. Although she missed her friends dearly, at least they wouldn’t have to see the shame upon her face, their burning eyes, knowing that she’d destroyed everything. On and on she walked, to where she didn’t know, but onwards she must. This was the price she must pay.

Eventually she came upon the barn, she had been there earlier with her friends but it was empty now. She had to go down, maybe someone was still downstairs. As she descended the rickety wooden staircase she felt herself moving even further still into the empty oblivion. At the bottom of the stairs she was frozen as feelings of guilt and disappointment spiralled beyond her control, trying to lure her. Eventually she gave in. No thoughts, no feelings, nothing, it was all gone. Tragic, yes, but she knew it was her fault, she knew it was meant to happen.

With its filthy engine groaning, the bus lurched along the marred tarmac of the country lanes. A golden spring sunlight dazzled and flitted through the trees, softened by a thick haze in the atmosphere. Fractal like fingers of trees, still naked from winter, grasped loosely at the clouds. They sprawled past, silhouetted against the deep, blue sky. The bus chugged lazily over the brow of a hill, revealing a thick spread of buttery daffodils over the slope. Although she’d travelled this road frequently, she’d missed this journey, only a bus could travel slow enough to really enjoy it. The dirty windows created an authenticity, a familiarity, like an old photograph.

The journey wasn’t complete without music. She reminisced of her college years, before they changed the bus route; when there was long enough to lose herself in an entire album. Head nestled in between humming cans, she had time to mull over things or simply fall in to a meditative trance. She’d got good at floating away, too good.

Her wide eyes wandered back inside the bus; an old lady placed a tissue in a PVC shopping bag decorated with cats, a plastic bottle rolled to and fro as the bus swayed. She gazed down at her boots, still encrusted in mud from the weekend. What a weekend. Over the years she’d seen some pretty shocking and insane things but nothing compared with Saturday night. It really was one of the best and worst days of her life and nothing could have prepared her for the aftermath. She glanced up at the bus again; the mundanities of life had never looked so beautiful, felt so important and been so comforting.