New Story : Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He sat in an oval shaped room. The sunlight streamed in through an open window, flooding the room with warmth. He stared out the window to drink in the pleasant weather. The clouds were quietly drifting over the sky, painting thought-provoking sketches of vivid beauty. Further down, acres of chartreuse fields carefully decorated with a profusion of white daffodils and yellow orchids spread out before his eyes. The orchids were soon joined by a boastful hummingbird which thoroughly inspected the abundant offerings of the flower, zigzagging around the delicate pedals in rapid, but careful movements, before swiftly dashing off. The wind gently caressed the trees with the scent of flowers, creating a soft rustling as the leaves rearranged themselves.

He remained fixed in wonder at the sheer brilliance of the surrounding nature. He sat and stared in a trancelike state, allowing his eyes to wander further into the natural complexities and delicate intricacies before him, whilst his mind stretched out into brief and often incoherent realms of thought. He often found that time slipped away when he desired it most and, inevitably, it ran out quite inconveniently. At this particular point, his watch supported this theory as the hands fixed themselves decisively on three o’clock. He had a weekly appointment at 10 past four and always regulated his afternoon activities accordingly.

Having left the security of his chair, he reached for his bowler hat and dashed out the front door. A trail of bold footprints followed his shoes up the driveway as he strode past a particularly cheeky cat who stole across his path in a mischievous attempt to divert his attention. However, he ignored this distraction and continued, unperturbed and sure-footed.

After walking for an hour or so, he found himself in the chaos of inner city life. Men in business suits charged past him at alarming speeds, evidently oblivious to his existence. One short fellow sporting a bushy beard accompanied by a cherry red face actually ran straight into him.
‘EXCUSE ME!’ he bellowed before accelerating yet again.

He had never enjoyed his voyages around the inner city. To him, the constant stream of barking cars and buses, filling the air with a toxic stench, had always given him a sinking feeling of desperation and confusion. He much preferred the peaceful and relaxing atmosphere only found in the rolling fields of the outer suburbs which were distinctly separated from the inner city region.

To his relief, he now turned off the main road on which he was walking and made his way steadily down a side street. At last he came to the entrance of a relatively modest establishment which looked quite out of place. The building was wedged between an apartment block and the rear end of a sizeable supermarket. Had one walked past it, their eyes would simply drift over it in ignorance. The bar was always one of his favourite haunts. He appreciated the quiet taste of the surprisingly intricate woodwork. The rich smell of lacquer and mahogany combined with the aroma of alcohol proved to be a provocative combination that ensured nasal delight.


The visual appeal was just as satisfying, if not more so. The interior of the bar was just as modest as its outer counterpart. As he entered the bar, a familiar scene met his eyes; the low hung ceiling, the dimly lit lounge and the tastefully selected series of paintings all gave the smoke filled bar a provocative and yet conservative character. As he walked past the first of many faded cloth covered bar stools, the owner gave him a friendly bow, as was his custom. He was a short and stout man and stood proudly boasting a kind face with magenta cheeks and a sympathetic smile. His apron seemed to signify a story of age and toil as the seams frayed in protest. Many familiar faces in the room also smiled and waved or tipped their hats in similar gestures of greeting. One man in a short, blue pinstriped suit came over briefly to shake hands and engage him in mild conversation on the politics of the day before emptying his glass and departing.

At last, he made his way over to the lounge, now clutching a bold glass of brandy. He set his glass down on an ornate table covered in depictions of Greek mythology, the table wobbled slightly under the glass’ weight as it was quite old and worn. He then lowered himself into a comfortable leather chair and lit his pipe. He sat there, watching a trail of grey smoke wind upwards in a snake-like fashion and he waited.

An alizarin fire roared in a rustic fireplace, filling the room with warmth. The glowing embers drifted lazily through the fire whilst emitting pulsating bursts of red light. Ethan fixed his eyes on the dancing flames and soon found himself drifting away into a dream, subconsciously woven by his imagination.

* * * * *

The scratch of chalk on a blackboard was not unfamiliar to the ears of Kefilwe. His weary and rugged hand held the piece of chalk with a careless attitude. Each stroke inspired a new avenue of thought to distract his worn mind. This is not how he had first envisaged teaching. Kefilwe had once regarded a piece of white chalk as an invaluable tool to pass the sacred knowledge he possessed onto the masses. Yet, thirty years later, he found his hand etching out well rehearsed notes whilst his coat sleeve rubbed against the blackboard one time too many. He was suddenly thrown into sharp relief as the echoes of a chiming bell rang throughout the school. This feeling of relief experienced at the end of each lesson was the one feeling that he held mutually with all of his students.

Kefilwe’s hand found his briefcase, which emitted a protesting squeak as he gave it a generous donation of class notes and various teaching utensils. Kefilwe strode boldly out of the classroom, walking with purpose. He had assumed this walk in order to reflect his personality which, many years ago, had been full of purpose and eagerness. Yet Kefilwe had watched his obsession with the passing of knowledge dissolve over the years. He blamed this demise solely on the lack of inspiration which his students exemplified with narrow-minded pride. However, today, his purposeful manner of walking was well justified. Kefilwe had his weekly meeting with an old friend. Normally, this would be looked upon as a revivifying and pleasant end to the week. This time, however, the prospect of this weekly chat made his heart emit gentle tremors of stimulation.

As Kefilwe strode out of the school building he found his movements being opposed by a stubbornly stiff breeze. The wind swept over his face with determination and, as it did so, he felt all weariness being siphoned from his body. His drooping eyes suddenly sparked, he felt his hands shudder in a rejuvenating fashion. His hair was thrown around playfully by the wind, its dark brown strands briefly whipped over his eyes in a cheeky manner. Having paused for a few seconds, he adopted his bold walk yet again and swiftly exited the school grounds in search of his destination.

As the bar room clock rested hesitantly on 4:15pm, Kefilwe found himself at the entrance. Without hesitancy he made his way to the counter and communicated his desire for a port to the barman. Kefilwe watched the barman bob under the counter briefly, leaving his shiny head to customer inspection. He soon ascended clutching a dusty bottle in his time worn hands.

After being poured a generous measure of port by the beaming barman, Kefilwe took a sweeping glance at the inhabitants of the bar. After briefly scanning the tasteful woodwork his eyes firmly came to rest on a jaded leather chair positioned near the crackling fireplace in the corner. It was not the chair itself that had solely held his interest, he had often sat on the very same piece of furniture, but the individual that occupied it drew his immediate attention. As his eyes flickered with recognition, he watched the occupant of the chair exhale a puff of smoke and recede further into the soft leather. Kefilwe slowly navigated his way through the room towards the man in the corner.

“My dear friend Ethan, if you were to sink any further into that chair, we might lose you for good”, Kefilwe chuckled.

Ethan paused, seeming to inspect his pipe with great detail, and slowly he inclined his head towards Kefilwe and fixed him with an amused smile.

“It is lucky then that, should my judgement lapse on this issue, I would be safe under your watchful eye my friend”, mused Ethan, he then continued, “Take a seat Kefilwe, how goes the noble art of teaching?”

“Ethan, if only you knew my suffering”, sighed Kefilwe, his eyes now fixed on the dancing fire as he sank into a neighbouring chair.

“I take it that your passion for teaching is waning?”

“Well, under the influence of these students, I readily admit that I cannot see much hope”

Ethan paused, for the second time, before replying.

“My old friend, it is just as I had expected”, he said “Yet I have found the solution to all of your problems, I now ask for your utmost attention”