Short story

Over the summer I participated in a creative writing course. I was supposed to complete it in time for my return to work but you know how life gets busy. Predictably, it ended up spilling over slightly into the new term.

The final assessment piece is a 1000 word short story which we shared with our peers in order to recieve feedback. Critiquing the work of others is a truly insightful process if you are careful to remain objective and resist the urge to beat yourself up for your perceived failings.

We create different pieces for different audiences and use varying styles and types of language dependent upon the purpose of our piece, the atmosphere we wish to create and the episode we are attempting to recount. Some readers will enjoy your story, others won’t.

Anyway, here’s my story…

Snapped (offensive language)

Harry was always going to regret his decision to go to the pub that Friday night. He’d endured an utterly shit week at work with Paul his boss riding his ass every five minutes to ‘contact this customer; email that purchaser; get Jim from IT up here to fix the wireless connection…’ The list was endless. This irascible man’s sloppy-shouldered style of management was creating a mountainous burden of responsibility under which Harry was being buried alive.
One bleak November afternoon had proven particularly fraught. Harry had attempted to broach the subject with Paul but was clearly informed that if he couldn’t cope with the demands of his job then he should make way for someone that could. He bit his tongue daily, would not allow himself to be rattled and constantly told himself that he was only sticking it out there until he had sufficient experience to look elsewhere. That day, he had come within an inch of telling Paul to shove his job but once more had talked himself down; reminded himself to look at the bigger picture. This did little to contain his anger or lighten his dismal mood. At four-thirty, with the skies fully darkened and the office lighting boring into him as much as his discontent, he decided to head home, leaving his arm-long list of chores for the following Monday. Wearily, he put on his jacket, grabbed his rucksack and phone and was halfway to the lift when he heard his name echoing up the corridor.
‘Just keep walking’ he told himself, however in such a short corridor he had no hope of pretending that he hadn’t heard. He could have sworn he saw a trace of a wry smile on the tyrant’s face as he was sent to fish some files from his desk before finally making his escape. The delay was actually negligible, however today it was just long enough to ensure that, as Harry approached, the number 29 bus was easing away from the stop into the busy Friday night traffic, forcing him to wait another 20 minutes for the following bus to arrive and finally whisk him home. He gave the post a swift boot in frustration and glanced up as the first spots of rain began to fall.

The subsequent bus was rammed to capacity although the driver still stopped to allow Harry aboard. Flashing his pass, he walked the three steps in to grasp the only available area of handrail, ending up wedged into the fleshy folds of the enormous passenger beside him. With his head at armpit level and a pungent hue of body odour flowing forth, he decided to cut this journey short and alight at the Royal Oak, just 3 stops on. He could do with a jar anyway. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone and quickly texted the boys to see if they fancied joining him.

The boozer was a steady 100 yard uphill climb from the bus stop. Opening the heavy wooden door to enter, Harry acknowledged to himself that he was already feeling a fraction less drained by the day’s events; maybe a crisp, welcoming pint of Kronenbourg accompanied by some light-hearted banter would turn out to be the perfect remedy to this awful day.
Connor was the first of his friends through the door; tall, lean and exceptionally loud. The crash of the solid pub door flinging open announced his arrival. He then boomed his order across the room.
“Lager tops, a packet of crisps and three Jaeger bombs, please love,” he turned to wink at Harry.
“Start as you mean to go on. Ain’t that right H?”
Harry grinned at his larger-than-life friend and partner in crime since junior school.
“Spot on, bro. I fucking need it after today, I can tell you!”
Ten minutes later and Rhys was joining them at their table, pint already in hand.
“What’s happening? What did I miss?”
“Not a lot, Harry’s just telling us what an utter prick his boss is!”
“So, what’s new?”
“As if you need to ask! Grab one of these and get it down your neck!” They all reached for their Jaegerbombs chucked them back.
“Three more please, love.” Connor called to the bar and the ritual was repeated.
“Coming back to your work situation, I don’t know why you put up with it mate! That man’s an utter tool,” Connor continued “but you’re even more of a tool for putting up with it.”
“Like I have a choice!” Harry sighed.
“Course you’ve got a fucking choice mate. Grow a pair! I’m going to be completely honest with you now; having to listen to your bitching and moaning about that miserable prick and the way he treats you is starting to get old.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“Don’t get all pissy with me, I’m just saying, the man’s a twat. He’s been a twat forever and he isn’t going to change. You get wound up about it but you could change it all and make your life a whole lot easier by just…”
The fist knocked Connor from his seat and flat onto his back, Harry just couldn’t contain it and, looking back, still could not remember the consequent stream of thought that triggered him to jump from his seat and rain a heavy shower of punches into the face of his oldest friend. He still balks at the memory of Rhys pulling him away; of the blood and the mess.
Connor was helped to a seat in the corner as the manager and Rhys pushed Harry out of the door. Harry shot a desperate glance back at the bleeding Connor hoping for a sign that things may be OK, that forgiveness might be possible. Connor did not look round.
Taking a step outside, the speedily approaching intermittent blue lights accompanied by the jarring wail of a siren signalled that this episode was far from over.