Something from Nothing

I remember the party. At the house across the road. The tenth birthday of Mark Smith.

I loved going to their house. It was always filled with the sound of laughter and the smell of freshly baked cookies. Mark's Dad was the life of the party. He was always smiling and that must have been contagious because he even got a small smile on Old Granny Johnson's face. When we had to go I didn't want to leave. I wanted to be part of Mark's family, I adored his Dad and Mark and I wanted to be brothers. We walked to school together, worked on projects together and made secret clubs that nobody else could be in. But we had to go. So we went our separate ways and I fell asleep dreaming of the party.

On Sunday we went to church as usual we put on our freshly ironed clothes and set off down the road. When we returned I wanted to go play at Mark's. But Mum heard sirens in the distance. And in those days when you heard sirens there was something dangerous going on. So she ushered us inside and told us to set aside our nice clothes for next week's wash. The sirens became louder and Dad told us to be more quiet. Martin and Fiona clutched my hands. Scared of what could be taking place outside. We could the vehicles turning down our road. Holding our breath we waited in silence. The engine and sirens stopped abruptly. Dad slowly moved towards the window and yanked the curtain open quickly. Jumping back as if he had touched a hot flame.

We ran towards the window and looked out. Our noses creating condensation pressed against the cold glass. A sea of red and blue crashing over their house, drowning it. And as the officers stepped up to the door. We knew something was wrong.

The sobs echoed through their house.

The cries stifled by the crowds dressed in black who stopped by every day.

We were invited to his funeral but only Dad and I went. After all I was Mark's best friend.

They asked me to do a speech but I couldn't. The words kept getting mixed up, my voice drowned by my tears.

One day Celia asked me what had happened. I tried to tell her. But I couldn't. I couldn't tell her what Mark's mother had told me. Whenever I thought of it I felt. I felt sad, I felt angry. I felt that I too was drowning.

I was drowning in a sea that never ended. Once I dove into the ice cold pool of darkness there was no surface, there was no ocean floor. Just a vast space of nothing. Nothing but my reflection, my memories, my passion. A passion for something that I loved. A passion for something that I couldn't live without. A passion so strong inside me that it was eating me up. Ripping me apart from inside to out. I was taking myself away. Somewhere there would be no loss, no storm cloud over my heart. Somewhere where there was nothing. Nothing to lose, nowhere to hide. Somewhere I could go to be alone. And stay there. Somewhere that I could make something. From nothing.

But I had to keep fighting. Struggling against the current. Emerging from the deep. Because even though his Dad wasn't there, we were. When he walked alone to school. We would always be there. To catch him. When he falls.