The gray band

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Everything was okay; we were sitting and enjoying a breathtaking view of floating empty bottles of alcohol in crystal-clear brown water, until it started raining.


They have been waiting for us at least for 3 hours. My friend David and I bought some beer and decided to join my colleagues in the barbecue party near the river.

We were almost 4 hours late, when we finally reached the destination. Evidently, everyone was packing up their belongings; to put it mildly they were surprised but glad to see us in condition.

After half an hour everyone has gone, leaving a few smoldering coals in a place where it used to be a bonfire. I was so excited about being God knows where with 5 litters of beer and no food at all!

Everything was okay; we were sitting and enjoying a breathtaking view of floating empty bottles of alcohol in crystal-clear brown water, until it started raining.


-We are running out of beer  -  said I

-When you are right, you’re Goddamn right – David agreed

-Damn it, my matches are wet and this damn rain is totally freaking me out.

-Don’t panic bro, this is must be a gray band, a band of failure and it definitely will get better soon – he reassured me

-Like fun, gimme a lighter.

-It’s broken because of rain, why wouldn’t you ask those guys in the car to give you a fire?


A couple comfortably sitting in a car were staring at two almost naked guys in the rain which were trying in a vain attempts to light a cigarette, like in a zoo at two ape-men which were making a fire.


Then the clouds parted, right after I finally lighted my cigarette. It stopped raining and everything seemed nice and lovely, the beach (if you can call it that. Clay mixed with sand and broken glass if you wish) has filled with people, the sun was shining brightly; every little thing was delightful and nothing boded trouble. We’ve even met two Stand Up Guys, who gave us some homemade vodka (half alcohol 96%, half water) and homegrown vegetables. ( to be honest it was a very  good quality homemade vodka)

We weren’t even embarrassed by the presence of prison tattoos on them. And I was pretty drunk when, to my surprise, I have found a machete in the trunk of their car.

I was exhilarated by this discovery and instead of being nice and clever I grabbed the machete and pretended to be a Rambo. Instead of being afraid of the strangers and terrified of thoughts what they needed it for, we just started hacking the bushes like brainless woodmen.

After two hours of unbridled joy, the following events could be described only by stop-frames:

Guys having fun in the crystal-clear brown river; The Tin Woodman is brandishing the machete like an axe; a car full of homemade vodka




I haven’t the foggiest idea for how long my friend David and I were walking in the forest, but suddenly I realized that :

1.I am wearing just a swimming trunks

2.We are in the middle of nowhere and going somewhere

3.I can’t remember a thing from the moment we were on the river

-Hey, David– asked I – where the Hell are we?

To my great regret, he couldn’t answer for this simple question.

-What? – asked he again with fear and trembling in his face.


We stopped, and took a look around ourselves.

The funniest thing was, that I was barefoot in a swimming trunks and was holding a t-shirt in my hand but this lucky bastard was fully dressed. He was wearing shorts and Sandals. Then I remembered his words, that it was a gray band, when it started raining again!

We were wandering in the rain for about 3-4 hours in shifts wearing his sandals.

-Bbbrrrooo, I’m freaking freezing, now it’s my turn to wear the sandals - knocking teeth said David

-Here, dude, you have told me that the gray band is over and it just got worse, now it’s a Black band, whatever it means. – said I

-I’ve got a brilliant idea how to keep warm! warm bodies can warm us!

I looked at him suspiciously


-What are you hinting at? – asked I


-NOTHING ILLIGAL, –my friend reassured me-let’s hug and get warm!


-OH, look! Houses! Heeeey-


We started banging on the doors of houses. Unsuccessfully. We tried again. No one has opened his door. We tried again and again. Ours pathetic attempts to survive weren’t noticed.

However, in some mysterious way we came across to the station named “Hope”.

But nothing Changed. Desperately I knocked on the last doors. The door was opened.

On the walkway was standing a partially bald man in a shirt on a sleeve with a warm and welcoming smile. He invited us gave some hot tea and we told him our story.

When we dirty as hell, tired as dogs finally came home from a long trip, the commandant of the dormitory who was sitting and reading a newspaper in 4:30 a.m

Gave us a slighting look and continued reading.

Submitted: October 05, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Dimani Basinger. All rights reserved.

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Nice work, I like the theme. You could extend this into a full book. (that would be good).

Mon, October 5th, 2015 3:17pm

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