Brigitta Hodgetts

ALW101 Writing Craft Assessment 3 Place as Encounter Student ID: 216203643 Gitta Hodgetts “MIND GAMES” Gary didn't notice his father fall to the ground. He was too busy jumping, his fist punching at the air as he screamed in celebration. The footy had soared through the air, its angle dead on point. Gary had known it would reach its target long before it sailed through the two tall posts. “Dad, did you see that?” he shouted, pirouetting back towards the club rooms. His next gleeful shout got caught in his throat. He was not silent for long though. “Daad!” he screamed, sprinting back towards the club rooms. *** “Come on mate” Darren said pulling the car door shut. “We'll go have a kick of the footy while we wait.” “Awww” Gary said sinking back into his seat. “I wanted to see grandma and grandpa.” “Yeah well, they ain't home” Darren replied, turning the key in the ignition. “But dad...we came all this way.” Darren grinded his teeth together as he pulled out of the drive. “Too bloody right.” “What dad?” The separation from his wife was taking it's toll on Darren. For the first time in a long time, he just needed his damn parents. God, why weren't they home? “Nothing son, lets have a kick yeah?” *** Gary couldn't run fast enough. His coach had always said he needed to be a better sprinter. He cursed himself for not taking Coach White up on those private lessons. “Oih dad! Get up will ya! Dad, get up!” *** Darren watched as his son once more kicked the ball six or seven metres too far left. He remembered lining up in the very place his son was standing with the rest of his team to take shots on goal. He smiled to himself as he adjusted his feet in the muddy slop. “Keep trying son.” The field hadn't changed since he was kid. A few straggling tufts of grass sprung out from the muddy slop. If the wire fence wasn't falling down it would have made a great pig sty, not a footy field though. He couldn't believe kids were still waking up at eight on a Sunday morning to run around on the poorly disguised land fill. Darren shook his head. “I'm just gonna find a toilet” Darren called to his son. On the off chance they were open, they probably hadn't seen a plumber since..well ever if he was being honest. “Alright dad, sorry I'm not very good at this.” Darren laughed, “No one ever is in the beginning. Keep trying son.” Gary looked far from convinced but he moved to line up his shot anyway. Darren kept his eye on Gary as he made his way back towards the clubrooms. Gary missed the shot, but only just. If Darren never did another good thing in-his life, making that hearty little tacker, would be good enough for him. Darren smiled and turned his attention to the clubrooms. Only a blind health and safety officer would have agreed to let kids in that dump. The rusting corrugated iron roof was full of holes, big enough to be noticed even at this distance. The supporting beams that held up the verandah were weather worn and no doubt, the feast of a party of very happy termites. He wouldn't have been surprised to see some old man with a cork screw hat and a greying beard wandering out of the door to cook a rabbit over a makeshift fire. Not exactly the kind of place you wanted to be making memories. *** Gary's dad was on his knees, clutching at his head, his mouth caught open in a soundless scream. There was still fifty yards to clear before he hit the boundary fence. “Dad? Dad!” Stroke? Heart attack? He didn't know and even if he did, he wouldn't know what to do about it. “Daad!” The word catapulted across the space between them but his father remained unflinching. *** Darren pushed against the cold wire gate, it creaked as he passed through it. Without realising, he smiled at the memory of pushing that very gate open before and after a game as a boy. The same creaking would sing him on and off the field. His feet crunched over the same sandy gravel and the same tall gum trees blew cold wind into his eyes. He ran his hand over the bumpy brick wall of the club rooms, pausing to stare past the closed metal bars of the tuck shop. He used to smoke up with his friends beyond the dinted roller door. The damp cement room hadn't done much to hide the smell but the brothers never went in there. So it was safe. Darren shivered. The brothers. He forced himself to push back the memories before they took hold. He never wanted to think about those days. *** Gary grabbed a hold of the metal railing on the fence, launching himself over it. “Dad!” His dad was rocking back and forwards, his fingers twisting in his hair like carnivorous worms, relentless in their quest to consume Gary's dad. Silver tracks ran down the sides of his fathers dirt smeared face. “Dad what is it? What's wrong?” *** An unwelcome guest have begun to rise from a deep slumber in the back of Darren's mind. “Shut up” he muttered to himself as he pushed open the rain worn door of the clubrooms. He was jogging along the hallway with his team mates. They were slapping each on the back and cheering as they made their way into their change room. The same red and black paint was smeared along the walls, a giant cobra rising out of the paint work in the corner. “Good game boys, nice to have a win, nice to have win.” Oh get out, please just go, Darren thought as he pulled off his jumper. The same long benches made of three panels of stained wood along the walls. Please don't ask me, Darren thought. I don't like your games, I don't want to play a game. He slung his bag over his shoulder, sticking close to his best mate. They never bothered Smokie. Maybe if he just stayed close enough... “Wait a moment Darren if you please, I'd like to talk to you about your technique.” The same brown pegs sticking out of the wall. The same high narrow windows. As if anyone would ever see what went on in here, through those dusty old window panes. His heart sunk. “Smokie,” he said catching his mates arm, “Don't leave.” “Nah mate, didn't you see? Suzie Green is out there. Guess I'll catch you later hey?” The locker room was thinning out. Soon it'd just be him and Brother Snow. The same dual shower area. White broken tiles that exposed cracking plaster. The same cold cement floor littered with a few, far from clean, drains. “Now, now, Darren. You've put that on all wrong. Take it off and I'll show you how to dress properly.” Darren remained frozen on the opposite side of the change rooms. The giant snake loomed above him. “Of course naughty boys who don't do things right, well they have to earn God's forgiveness.” Brother snow was getting closer, sauntering, slithering, towards him. “Brother I...” “You don't want to make God mad at you, do you?” Darren gulped. “No...” Darren's breathing had begun to sound as though he were twelve again, running around on that cursed football field. His arm lashed out, gripping at the mouldy shower head for support. “Stop it.” The words cut through his teeth, a blade for the demons that were sprouting out of the shadows. “That's right Darren, just bend down as though you were going to pray.” They were touching now, his wrinkled cold skin, a parasite that played on the warmth of his young body. Tears were beginning to flow down his cheeks. He couldn't stay here in any longer. They were winning, their taloned fingers emerging from behind the veil of the cloth, in order to break him once more. Darren dragged one foot in front of the other, willing himself to escape this wicked place. “It'll be our little secret. You don’t want your parents to be angry too, do you?” Darren dug his fingers into the ridges in the brick wall, pulling himself forwards as the demons grew in size and number behind him. He opened his mouth to scream but they had taken his tongue long ago and only rasping breaths passed over his lips. “Confession is over now. Your Lord forgives you.” He burst out into the sunlight, still trying to scream. He raised his arms to the heavens, his mind yelling the obscenities his mouth could not utter. A tiny voice deep inside him, one that had not spoken since the days of his innocence, whispered in his ear. Stand up, it said. He couldn't though. They had put him on his knees and on his knees, he would remain. *** “Dad!” Gary's father gave a sudden jolt and threw his arms around his son. “Mum, I want my mum.” Gary nodded but he didn't move or speak. His mind was blank, he had never seen his father cry before. “And dad, get me my dad. I need to speak son, let me speak. Please let me speak.” “Okay dad, okay. You can speak.” It occurred to Gary at that moment that he wasn't hugging his father back and he jerked his arms around his dad. “Let me speak...”his father whispered. “I'm listening dad, I'm listening.”