I’m not at all aware where this one came from.
I did used to live on the south coast and once had the experience of driving home from Lewes (where there is, I believe, a prison), stuck in my tin box whilst bikes were passing me by (it might have been the Friday before Kent?)
The story started perculating in my mind whilst I was at work, one day, in the abbatoir in rural Brittany that I used to work at.
Work, at the time, involved putting crates of pork onto conveyor belts so that the girls could pack them into boxes.
It was good thinking work in that I didn’t have to think about it at all.
That, and the rythmn of the job, was pefect for thinking about writing.
Over a period of about a week I watched the video of this story in that private cinema in my head whilst I worked.
It took me a few years to write down properly but I got there in the end.
I’ve never been to prison and I’ve never killed anyone.
Although, thinking about it, with my culinary exploits I may have come close to the latter a few times!
Homecoming
It was raining when they let him out, and cold as well. Somehow he had been expecting this. He pulled his jacket closer around him and paused as he heard them slam the doors behind him.
Five years. Five long years wasted. But now it was over, he’d done his time.
There was no one waiting for him. He hadn’t told anyone about his release date. He’d wanted to do this his own way - on his own.
He turned left and headed into town. There was a station there. He’d get a train and go somewhere, anywhere. And, when he got there, he’d decide what it was he was going to do.
To find out what happened next you’ll need to buy a copy of Different Roads – available from Lulu.com from 1st August 2011.
