Letter to Jasmine
A pot of Assam tea, no milk or sugar
There is no address above for the reasons which will become clear; no doubt something will be stamped on the outside of the envelope.
It was great to read your letter, and the Christmas card cheered me up. You obviously did the right thing in moving away, and I’m sure you deserve the success which is coming to you. We always knew that you were the most talented one and would do well. I’m happy for you and proud of you.
I don’t know if you heard, but No. 78 burned down. After you left, so did Alex, Lizzie and Josh. Then Bryn moved in with his new girlfriend, Naisha. They asked me too, but I felt I would be in the way.
The new lodgers Mr Ali brought in were different, not students. They seemed to have lots of money and there were parties every weekend; I was never invited. I guess I didn’t fit in; dare I say it, the wrong colour. I assumed he would evict me, although he insisted I could stay until the end of term.
For a couple of weeks all seemed well, but one Sunday morning when I had not had a wink of sleep due to the racket which had persisted all night, I went down to complain. There were three lads of around my age there and I don’t know if they were drunk or high on drugs, but they were out of control and when, quite reasonably I believe, I asked them to turn off the music, they became unpleasant and one of them attacked me. In defending myself, pushing him away, he collided with one of the other two and fell against the cooker on which a large pot was boiling.
I’m not sure what happened next, but there was lots of steam, shouting and flames. Someone began screaming and I was knocked to the floor and kicked. When I came round, I was laid out on the lawn at the front, and the house was a furnace. I tried to get up but a paramedic held me down and then he and his partner carried me to the ambulance. The last thing I saw was the firemen spraying water onto the gable and upstairs windows.
I was in hospital for five days; a policeman sat outside my room. I believed it was to protect me, but as soon as the consultant said I could be discharged, he arrested me. I’ve been here two weeks, on remand, having made two brief court appearances. I’ve not been charged, although I’m told it’s terrorism offences that they are considering.
I will write again as soon as I have more to report. Until then, take care,
About the Author
Having spent the best part of thirty-five years writing reports on such subjects as ‘Provision of Caravan Sites for Travellers’ and ’Aspects of Pest Control in the Urban Environment’, Roger Noons began even more creative writing in 2006, when he completed a screenplay for a friend who is an amateur film maker. After the film was made, he wrote further scripts and having become addicted, began to pen short stories and poems. He occasionally produces memoirs and other non-fiction. He has begun to perform his poems, and has just published ’An A to Z by RLN’, an anthology of 26 short stories. He intends by the end of the year to have followed that up with a novella.
He is a member of two Writers Groups and tries his hardest to write something every day. As well as CaféLit, he has had credits in West Midlands newspapers, The Daily Telegraph, Paragraph Planet, Raw Edge and a number of Anthologies.
Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for theBest of CaféLit 2012.
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