Young Writers Society

“It”

Saturday

“We’re on the verge of something big”, he declared. And, with a sombre sense of excitement Bucky replied “On the verge of what?”. Realising he had blurted out a line in a trail of thoughts, Stevy paused for a moment. Time seemed almost non-existent within his mind and the minutes that had passed in his reality were not in proportion with the time it took him to complete his train of thought with that sentence. So he repeated “We’re on the verge of something big”. “This is not a coincidence.” he added. Bucky’s expression turned some what attentive to what Stevy had said. Feeling lifted by the statement he interjected, “This could be It”. The conversation had taken an awkward turn, both parties were now on the edge of a hypothetical phenomena. Stevy’s concentration shifted to Bucky’s last word, and the thought of how it was possible that Bucky understood the previous train of thought that he possessed merely seconds before was frightening. He grew paranoid, then anxious. The paranoia subsided and the anxiety followed. “In order to achieve It we must keep doing what we are doing.”, Stevy concluded. Bucky came to an abrupt halt. “What are we doing” he questioned. Soon after the words left his mouth it came to him like hard rain in a thunderstorm, “Well, if we are doing this now and in order to get It we must keep doing what it is we were doing then while we are doing what it was we were doing now”. It didn’t make sense. And so the two men danced with their confusion under the blue moon. Dumbfounded by the events that lead to this moment Stevy followed on in a monotonic yet philosophical voice, “It cannot confuse us, we can only confuse ourselves”.

The hours previous to the conversation were of a particular sort to Stevy and Bucky. To the world they felt like improbable statistics. Uninterested by humanities greatest accomplishment-”functioning society”. To them it was all seen before although they hadn’t seen anything at all. All theory no action.

She wore a deep red lipstick, thick on her small and perfectly curved lips. Her glasses were of a slightly comical size. Her accent rough against her complexion and yet she maintained a certain amount of elegance. Stevy was unimpressed but filled with, as he himself knew, interest. This wasn’t the kind of interest found in non-particular situations or even particular ones in that matter, she just was. Bucky stared as Stevy stared. Her short golden brown hair moved across the dance floor. And there she was. “Stevy! I’m so glad you came!”. Unaware of how he was meant to respond to the direct hypothesis in her statement he used samples of her words to create his own momentary excitement to the greeting, as appropriate “I’m so glad I came”. They exchanged a short succession of polite humour. Bucky stared on. The conversation ended in a stream of silence…. This in a way is why he came, these moments were of a particular sort, sharing silence in conversation. She walked on. Bucky had a blank expression on his face whilst maintaining a leg movement to the beat of the pulsating rhythm spilling on the edges of his awareness. In their minds they weren’t there, no one was.

As the evening came to a close the windows steamed by the heat of the dancing bodies, they stood outside. People exchanged their goodbyes, she walked out. Draping her person with a solid brown coat and disappeared into the street lights. One drag. Two drags. Three drags. It felt infinite like the moment didn’t require an ending only the repetition of this particular task. Four drags. Five drags. Squash.

As they proceeded to do what it is they were attempting to do they stumbled upon what looked to be a dead bird lying beside its dead chic. Bucky raised his foot and collapsed it onto the dead chic. Stevy raised the tone of his voice in protest, “That was unnecessary! How are we supposed to do what it is we are suppose to be doing if you do things like that”. Bucky watched as Stevy’s mouth opened and closed successively, he felt the stimulus travel through his brain to an articulatory store. Stevy’s words were now stagnating within him to a slow death of silence. The moment was soon over. He reacted, “If I was not doing something that I was not supposed to be doing in that situation by stamping on that bird then the fact that you are not doing what you’re suppose to be doing by shouting in my direction puts you in the place that I currently am in now.”

An epiphany soon resulted in Stevy’s head. “It cannot be deterministic. Every new moment is a moment we choose to embrace. The fact that we are doing what it is we are doing is inevitable because firstly we’ll be doing something all the time and secondly it us doing It.” The words rang through Bucky’s phonological loop. So what is It they need to be doing and more importantly do they need to be doing it?