Every Photo Tells... Vol. 1

Chapter 1

Flight or Post - Katharina Bordet

Of course, the cash withdrawal machine in front of the Post Office didn’t work. Joe wanted to punch it. Really badly. If there had been no camera looking down on him, he probably would have. Maybe a quick kick? Better not, he thought. The Out of order sign was laughing at him as though it was making fun of him. He settled with giving it a nudge, before turning around and looking up and down the street for an alternative where he could get some cash. The street was busy, full of so many people walking to and fro, most on their way to work. It was still early in the morning, the last darkness of the night slowly fading away, making way for the sun and the new day.

Joe was having one of 'those' days. Everything seemed to go wrong. He knew that he should have stayed in bed -- it would have been safer -- but that didn’t change the fact that he was still on the move. He needed cash and he needed it fast. The fact that buses didn’t take credit cards was something of an annoyance. He was afraid he would miss the bus and that he would have to take the train. Since his early childhood, Joe had been one of the few people who preferred buses to trains. Now, as a grown man who had passed 'the big three-O’ a good few years ago, he still took the bus whenever he could. Today was different. He was in a hurry; he had to leave.

There was a bank at the corner of the street, right behind him - the only thing was... he just wasn’t sure if he could go up the street again. From where he stood, the street sloped slightly uphill to the crossroads behind him. After the crossroads, behind the bank, down the road and only one block further, was the park. It was only a short walk to the park at the base of the castle and that was exactly why he was in such a hurry and had so little time left. He knew the woman had been there, having spotted her lurking on one of the benches as he walked along the pavement that ran beside the park. She had been sitting there, with her large bag on her lap, looking at a fixed point in the distance, as if she was expecting him to appear at that precise spot. Had she seen him, she would not be far away by now.

She wasn’t going to let him get away again and he had a growing certainty that she was closing in on him. Joe wasn’t too sure that he was fast enough and, even though she was much older than him, there was a persistence and aggression in her eyes that scared him. His only problem was that he still had to post the envelope in his bag and get the cash to jump on the next bus out of Edinburgh. If he managed to get the papers out today, there was a chance that he could escape forever. If there was a way -- ANY way -- that he could get out today, that he could escape her for this one day, it could be all over tomorrow.

The cold, November breeze swept around him as he stood, looking stressed, in the middle of the street. His cheeks were bright red, standing out against his otherwise pale complexion, and his hair stuck out in all directions, windswept and looking as stressed as he felt. Joe was wrapped in his favourite black coat, the one his wife had given to him many years ago as a birthday present. The thought of her almost made him stop in his tracks. Looking downhill towards the water, lost in the memory of her, he almost forgot why he was running. Tears started to well up in his eyes, the ever-present knowledge of his situation weighing heavy on his mind. But this was not the time to dwell on the past or his situation. He had to get out of it: his life as it was, and Edinburgh itself.

At what point this city, which he used to love so much, had become the living incarnation of his failure, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was just because of all the bad stuff that had happened here, or at least started here. He turned around, still lost in thoughts, and looked downhill from where he was standing. The view down to the water was spectacular. It looked like the city was rising towards the sun, out of the mist, and had already managed to get halfway there, though he lacked the opportunity to admire it. In a split second, his thoughts came back to this day, this very moment.

He needed to move on.

The envelope was in his bag, waiting, almost calling for him. Without even thinking, he backed into the post office. There were already a few people waiting in the queue, so he took the envelope out while he walked towards the counter and joined the line. Deep inside, he was hoping that she wouldn’t come looking for him in here.

Joe was so nervous and distraught that he didn’t even notice the woman who was standing in line two places in front of him. If he hadn’t been repeatedly turning around to look at the doors of the post office every time they opened, he might have noticed that she kept turning around herself – in order to look at him. Only when nobody had come in for a minute or two did he turn around, facing the counter and the woman who was looking straight back at him.

As he returned her gaze, all he could think of was how very different the woman looked from his wife. This realisation made him think of her again. He knew very well why she had filed for divorce in the first place and, somewhere in the depths of his heart, that he should just let her go, but with the life he led now he didn’t have the strength he needed to move on. He simply could not give up just yet. Each and every one of his friends kept telling him he was better off without her. That was easier for them to say, of course -- they didn’t have to return to live with their parents again because they had lost their jobs in the self-destructive years of marriage.

Today was the last day when he could post the appeal for the divorce. If he stopped the proceedings now, he would have a legal right to move back into their house. To move back in with his wife and whoever her current boyfriend was. That might seem utterly preposterous, but however much it might still hurt, anything seemed better than the way he was living now. All those things were the reasons he was running from until today.

For a brief moment, his awareness drifted back to the woman in front of him, her gaze locked into his as something registered between them. He was so entranced that he didn’t hear the sound behind him or turn around when the door of the Post Office opened again.

Joe! The shrill voice from behind rang through to his ears as if the rest of the world had suddenly fallen silent. Everything inside him cramped up, tightening his gut and shooting pain through his body that almost paralysed him. Luckily for Joe, it only took a split second for his body to react, almost on its own. He ducked behind a stand of postcards, nearly knocking it over in his haste, catching his foot on a queue barrier and landing flat on his stomach somewhere between a pile of envelopes and a paper model of a post box with a child standing next to it. The young woman in front of him looked puzzled, turning away with a look on her face that showed she was feeling his embarrassment.

When he was growing up, Joe had always wanted to be as cool as Indiana Jones, but this was not the best time -- scrabbling towards the door, flat on the ground -- to discover that the reality wasn’t nearly as glamorous. Adrenaline was shooting through his body, pushing him forward, but his mind was crawling through a dark, dusty tunnel in an old temple, trying convincing itself that these events would be so much cooler if they were not happening in a post office in the middle of Edinburgh. The 10-year-old in him might even have been imagining some adventure in an old haunted castle, but that didn’t help Joe much in his bid for escape from his pursuer.

Suddenly, he heard a loud crash. He spun around and he saw that the young woman had dropped her parcel, apparently with as much noise and disturbance as was possible. She looked over at him, winking. Everyone in the post office, even the old woman who was after him, looked at the woman, who stood in front of her parcel trying to pick it up again. Joe took the unexpected distraction as his chance and made a run for it, sprinting out of the post office, turning left into Frederick Street and running down the hill.

With a sharp movement to the right, he turned into Queen Street, heading east. He knew that the bus station wasn’t far away, so he kept running. The morning air was stung his eyes as he ran, but Joe couldn’t care less; he needed to catch the bus to Glasgow. He had to get there, get out of Edinburgh. He could not afford to be late; he must not be late.

St. James and the bus station underneath were only 5 minutes away, at least to someone as fast as a man on the run. There was no doubt in his mind that the old woman, who had been so hot on his heels, would never be able to run as fast as he was, but still he needed to get out of the city and he needed to catch the bus.

Joe hadn’t even entered the bus station when a bus came around the corner, driving towards him, the destination Glasgow clearly visible on the front. He was tempted to jump out in front of the bus, waving and shouting, to make it come to a halt so that he could get the driver to let him on and take him to Glasgow, but as he was heading in the direction of the bus, he glanced back. In his determination to reach the bus station in time, he hadn't even considered that he was also heading towards the railway station. Waverley, the main station in Edinburgh, was practically just around the corner. That was all it took to make him spin around and head into the opposite direction.

Arriving at the station entrance, Joe shuddered. He was no longer afraid of taking the train -- the wounds and fears and nightmares of the train accident he had been involved in had moved on long ago -- Joe just never really felt safe on a train again. The fact that it was November now, days away from the anniversary of the accident, didn’t help. The wind had died down a little, but the mere thought of entering the station, walking in there and taking a train, sent shivers up his spine. He took a deep, decisive breath, pushed the doors open and walked downstairs into the main area below where he knew the ticket counter would be. According to the announcement board in the centre of the station, there was a train to Glasgow due to leave in twenty minutes. Since the train was considerably faster than the bus, he knew that he would be just in time for the meeting if he took the train. Perhaps starting a new life also meant having to deal with old baggage first.

It didn’t take as much time to buy the ticket and find the right platform as Joe had expected it would. Since he had arrived at the train ten minutes prior to its departure time, he decided to walk down its length to the part of the train that was farthest away -- if she had been able to follow him to the bus station, he wouldn’t put it past her to try the train next. She knew that he hated taking the train and that she would stop at nothing to catch him. Her persistence and assertiveness scared him more than he was willing to admit.

The train was modern, clean, bright and almost empty. He was rather pleased with the idea of walking so far to the last carriage; it gave him space and time to think and relax. The tension would diminish once the train was moving, he told himself. Until then, he knew, he was going to be staring out of the window, looking for his pursuer. While he was watching the people on the platform, saying their goodbyes, hugging and kissing each other before boarding the train, he found himself thinking of the young woman in the post office. Something about her just wouldn’t leave his thoughts, despite everything else that had happened on this crazy day.

Joe started a little when the loud voice of the guard came crackling over the loudspeakers on the train, announcing that everyone was supposed to either board or get off the train, because it was about to depart. Another glance out of the window, just to make sure... The train had already started moving when he saw her running towards the train. Ducking below the window he hoped the train would speed up, even prayed that it would. The sound of the rails clattering below became faster, indicating that it had done so, leaving the old woman behind, looking dishevelled and out of breath. Joe couldn’t help but smile, upon sitting back up and looking out, as he saw her shrinking into the distance. Only at that moment did the tension finally fall from him; he leant back and was able to relax at last.

He hadn’t managed to post the appeal document. That meant only one thing: his marriage was over. There was something about the feeling of relief, sitting here on this train, that made it seem like it was not such a bad thing. It didn’t feel like a failure any more. Of course, it also meant that if this meeting went badly, he would have to go back to his pathetic life. He needed this job. Deep in his heart he knew, if he was able to start a new life, which this job would make possible, then he wouldn’t have to be on the run any longer.

# # #

In Glasgow, the sun was shining. Joe felt light inside, as though his lifting spirits were reflected by the weather, and it was a feeling he relished. He had escaped from Edinburgh, she hadn’t been able to catch him and he was in time for his job interview. The world suddenly seemed so full of possibilities, full of hopes. He had never really been a strong defender of hope; but this day, today, was different.

Walking out of Queen Street station, heading towards the location of his meeting, he actually skipped, like a joyful child. On any other day that was something that might have worried him, but today was no ordinary day. It was a day that had started off with so much fear, pressure and running and had turned into something with at least a glimmer of hope, though he knew that he needed all the strength he could muster to nail this interview.

He had managed to sort himself out on the train to the point where he no longer looked like he had been running all day. As he walked he adjusted his tie and checked over his suit for fluff or hairs, putting the finishing touches to his appearance. He picked up his pace, rather pleased with himself, and soon reached his destination, the place he had been trying so hard to get to.

It was a beautiful old building, likely the former city home of some rich family. Joe was positively cheerful as he looked up to the windows. He glanced towards the door, which was emblazoned with countless logos and company names. Apparently, it was now a building full of offices. He felt almost giddy with anticipation. The company he was heading to was located on the topmost floor and, as he climbed the stairs, he wondered if it was possible to see the whole city from up there.

At the top, the secretary led him into a beautiful office and motioned to him to sit down at the small table next to the window. He looked outside, feeling safe and rested for the first time that day. There was a calm that spread out through him; a rather weird experience, since he used to suffer from nerves before interviews in the past.

The door of the office opened and the Human Resources representative came out to greet him. It was the young woman from the post office. He had no idea what she was doing there, but he was certain of one thing. For some inexplicable reason, he was happy to see her.

# # #

When he stepped out into the street about an hour later, the sun seemed even brighter. Joe was rather pleased with himself and, deciding that he wanted to enjoy the short moment of sun and warmth, closed his eyes and just stood still, his face held towards the sun. He thought about the job interview he just had completed, his first in many, many years. If he got the job, he could start a new life. He would no longer have the temptation of going back to his ex only because he was frustrated with his current situation. There was also always the risk that she would throw him out in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Oh no, there she was. She had caught up with him, all this distance away. It was over.

You forgot your lunch box, sweetheart!

Oh, Mum, you went too far this time! he sighed.

<<<>>>>

The Channel - Mick Bordet

Dunald gazed across the ice, wondering. For as long as he could remember he had come to stand at this spot at least once a week and look across the sea towards Inkland. There was just over a mile of water separating the two countries, but it might as well have been a thousand, for nobody had ever crossed between the two. It was close enough for him to see the mass of buildings, wooden and stone structures that filled every visible piece of land and, on a clear day, to see movement on the maze of streets than meandered, criss-crossing, all through the city. He would imagine what it would be like to be one of those tiny dots in the distance, a citizen of Inkland, going about his daily business in the hustle and bustle of such an exciting place.

Life in Blotland was never rushed, nothing exciting ever seemed to happen and he often went for days on end without seeing another soul, it was so very far to his neighbours' homes, let alone the nearest village. The family