© 2025 Richard Taylor
Jamie stood for a while in the open. His flimsy overcoat dangled down to his ankles and flapped at the whim of the breeze. Canvas shoes, originally pale, now soaked up blackness from yesterday's puddles. But at least they fit him, unlike his hat which he had to hold with one hand at all times, just to stop it falling over his eyes.
From a distance he probably looked like a kite that had crashed into a scarecrow. Or maybe just a scarecrow-shaped kite that had crashed. Who knows, because there was no-one there to see him. He was standing in the middle of a field.
"I'm good." he said, boldly. But his eyes were still closed.
Terror had run its course and subsided into mere fear. Fear was bearable for a time. But fear was not good and fear was not going to run its course. With his eyes closed the fear was restrained, limited, caged by the hope that it may be dark when he opened them again.
He breathed deeply. Just like the doctor had suggested. Again, it didn't make much difference. If he thought about something else, his music maybe, then that helped. But only because he was ignoring the problem. What if he tried thinking about something else with his eyes open? No. No difference.
Tonight was a fine sunset. For anyone looking. Reluctantly Jamie removed his hat. He opened his eyes and stared into the hat for some time, admiring the fine silk lining and the dark leather head-band. The band was as worn as the lining was pristine: a curious paradox, which occupied Jamie for all of five minutes. He wondered about the hat's previous owners. Were there many, or just one? He decided on many, for no other reason than to keep his mind on the hat and off the Sun. But. He knew why he was here. And reluctantly he was trying to edge himself towards the place he dreaded.
Hat in hand he gradually turned his attention to the Sun. It had almost set now. He shuddered, panicked and closed his eyes firmly again. After a few breathless seconds he strode to the edge of the field, squinting in the deepening gloom. Suddenly he found himself whistling and stopped.
Whatever lingering warmth the Sun had been playing onto him was now gone. He could safely open his eyes, but waited a moment longer anyway. Maybe coming out here again hadn't been such a great idea. Katie said as much when she dropped him off. And how was he going to get home in the pitch black? But the fear was diffusing quickly now. He stood calmly by the metal gate and, as the Sun set further, the Moon seemed to glow brighter and brighter as his eyes adjusted to the level of the night.
Jamie felt in his pockets for the torch he knew he should have picked up but hadn't. He found an energy bar instead, pealed off the gossamer-thin wrapper and bit into it. The vague taste of strawberries and cherry struggled to escape the chewy mass. The discarded wrapper quickly dissolved away into nothing.
His hand was glowing red again. Ever so slightly, but it was. Actually they both were, and his right more than the left this time. The finger tips were the brightest and it faded almost completely by the wrist. Most of the time. His left elbow was the furthest he'd noticed it reaching: although he was fairly sure he had noticed his toes doing it one night, but had been quite drunk at the time.
There was a hoot. An owl obviously. Wasn't it? Jamie had never seen one. But he heard them every time he came out here. He stood, waiting for the sound to repeat, but it didn't. Which was the story of this field. He kept coming back to recapture that first time, but it was never the same. The glow was still there, fainter now, teasing him.
It was now almost completely dark, and the air was cooling fast. In the distance he saw a light. An artificial light. A warm light. He set off, smiling, stumbling along the edge of the field. The self-inflicted terror of the Sun behind him for another day.
The apartment was ordinary in almost every way, as far as an ordinary person could tell. No-one had ever entered it and said "Wow!", but Jamie thought exactly that every time he came home. It had taken him nearly 3 years to find all the materials he needed to get this effect, but he had got there eventually. So long in fact that some of the first "improvements" he had made would soon need re-doing as their initial impact was now fading.
Jamie sat down on his sofa. It was big enough for 4 people, but only if you removed some of the many cushions. Cushions which, like every other collective in the apartment, were all identical in size and shape.
On the opposite wall hung a row of 7 pictures. Perfectly aligned. Perfectly rectangular. And completely blank. Jamie smiled inside every time a visitor asked why he had empty picture frames hanging up. Sometimes he would say it was a prompt to get round to framing the pictures he had... somewhere. Once or twice he'd claimed it was an art installation that he'd purchased for an arbitrarily large sum of money.
The truth though was that it was a quiet shibboleth. A way for Jamie to identify himself to the people, or even just one person, who might be like him. For now he sat alone, admiring the rectangles' warmth.
After a few minutes, Jamie looked at his hands again. They were both slightly red. He rubbed them together. For a few seconds they were ever so slightly more red than they had been... but nowhere near as red as the leftmost rectangle.
Jamie stood, puzzled. For the umpteenth time he went over to the red rectangle and laid both palms on it. It was not warm to the touch. But its warmth was "red". Jamie shook his head, again for the umpteenth time. He didn't understand it. But he did understand that he couldn't talk about it. Not as an adult. Who was supposed to be sane, now.
There was a knock at the door. Jamie turned and saw that it was Katie. He bounded to the door and opened it with a smile.
"Hi. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely."
"Thanks K. Do you want to go out?"
"Sure." she replied, adding "Are you a vampire?"
Jamie laughed. "I like garlic too much, I think, and..." he checked his reflection in the mirror beside the door, before pointing at himself "... I have a reflection?"
"OK, Jamie of the night, let's go to Bella's. They're open late."
As they walked arm in arm to the club, Jamie revelled in the glorious warmth of the night. Even though, by now, it was really quite cold.
Inside the club was quite brightly lit. The dance-floor doubly so. If Jamie had to describe the place, taking his apartment as a baseline of beauty, then he would be stringing together words like "chaos", "frantic" and "bizarre". As carefully as he had kitted out his place, this space had been filled by someone with no appreciation for warmth at all.
Which, by Jamie's reckoning, narrowed the candidates down to everyone in the world!
"A drink?" he offered.
"Sure, thanks." replied Katie.
After two shots, downed rapidly, they were ready to dance. The floor was crowded, but they carefully navigated themselves through the throng and near the centre. This was where the sound was best. And the views. Because, after slamming his senses with booze, the mix of the music and the crazy warmth was strangely pleasant.
The stresses of the day eventually took their toll. So Jamie was happy when Katie suggested they go and sit for another, more leisurely, drink. They soon found a relatively quiet spot and settled in with a beer each - Jamie a classic lager and Katie one of those trendy fruit infused stouts.
Half a pint in, Katie noticed Jamie looking at his hands.
"What's up, J?"
"Nothing, it's just that my hands are red." he replied without thinking.
"How do you mean read?"
For a moment Jamie was confused. As if he'd been talking to himself and had asked himself a really difficult question that he didn't know the answer to.
His head cleared, slightly. He trusted her. What the hell. He couldn't live the rest of his life alone like this. Even if it meant going back... there.
"Sometimes my hands, things, look different when they are warm." he started.
Katie looked intrigued, so he continued. "And red, R, E, D, is a word I made up to describe it."
"R, E, D." she repeated.
"Yes. It's kind of a mash up of ready, as in the food's ready... when it's hot." he trailed off.
"Red. I like it." she smiled.
"I know I sound crazy. Seeing things. That's why I don't like going out in the daytime. Things look different then too. But not hot. Different. Bleak somehow. I don't know why. It scares me. I think it's something to do with the Sun. I think the Sun gives out bad light... somehow."
Katie was quiet. Jamie thought his rambling had gone too far.
"Back to yours?" she said, finally.
"Sure." he smiled.
oOo
The next morning, as Katie was leaving, she paused in the doorway. Turning, she kissed Jamie on the lips. Then, taking a breath, she pointed at the 7 rectangles on his main wall.
"By the way. I love your artwork. Especially the red one..."