Valley

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short account of one special night at ''The Valley'', with everything left in.

Submitted: February 28, 2011

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Submitted: February 28, 2011

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We didn’t have a care in the world. Everything was beautiful. The weed put us in a state of complete relaxation and the alcohol set free our wildest thoughts – the combination released and inspired our imaginations. The valley was the most picturesque setting on our humble island, and tonight it had come alive. Around thirty or forty of us went down there that night; some to escape, some to socialise, and some just to take in the beauty of the time. This time was the best time of my life. I am happier now, but back then I had no worries. Whatever I did it didn’t matter – I was free.

The Stone Roses poured out of the amps at a level that almost put you in a trance, Ian Brown’s vocals got inside you. Above us all was a vast red sky, deeper than any ocean and with no end of stars to gaze at. I held someone’s hand as I lied on my back near the cliff edge and shared my love for this feeling and this night. Just past the cliff edge was a tiny farm which sat next to a lighthouse, shedding its light on the black, sleeping sea. The farm had only five sheep, and I never have seen any people down there. This place really was out of the way, it is the quietest place I have ever been – that is, when we were not there.
Our camp fire and tents were set up exactly between either hills of the valley, sheltered from any wind that may arrive. The crackling of the fire could be heard over the music if you were close enough, but if you stood there for too long it would make your eyes sting. The smoke I exhaled took the hands of the smoke from the fire, twirling and twisting into the night sky to the bass guitar of ‘’I Wanna Be Adored’’. Looking back, this must be where my love for them has come from.
As the night went on, several people we didn’t know turned up and joined our little gathering. At first we were worried they were going to complain and call the police, but they had all brought alcohol with them and they sat around the fire sharing their cigarettes with us. There was one man that I later discovered to be a tree surgeon; he wore a fluorescent yellow coat and smoked more than anyone I have ever met. He helped us collect wood for the fire and was a real, genuine person – after he left we sang songs about him for an hour or so. Only when we stopped singing did we realise how long we had been doing it for. I see this man in passing from time to time and he always says hello.
I found myself lying on my back on the cold grass with the girl I felt nothing for; she wanted to have sex with me. I don’t know what it was; the alcohol, the late night temperature or perhaps just my dislike for her, but I didn’t want to. I felt her cold hands as she pulled down my jeans and began sliding off my boxer shorts, but I wasn’t getting hard. I had no interest in her and said I didn’t want to. I didn’t see her until much later on and I was glad of it. I had more interest in having a few more beers and maybe another smoke.
All around me friendships were growing tighter and our love for one another was on a high. All our problems were put on hold and we didn’t think about tomorrow. We really were living for the moment – an experience that I feel has to be tried. I sat and talked to two of my good friends for a long time, and we reminded ourselves of things we have got up to in the past together. It is sad that we now talk about these times I am describing. We cannot recreate them, things are different now. We know we can always make new ones, but what I fear most is that I will not be able to feel this sense of freedom again.
Later on in the night I was with some of my older friends that lived in the village; we were all huddled in a rather small tent passing around a joint. We called it ‘’hotboxing’’ and it maximised the narcotic effect of the weed. We talked about music, life and freedom – discussing for a long time how hard it is for a person to be truly free. Twenty minutes passed until I noticed the girl that I had ‘’something’’ with was sat in the corner of the tent; she was trying to talk to me but I wasn’t listening to her. After a while she left and I didn’t see her again that night, she frustrated me and I was happier on my own.
As 4am came, still stoned and happily drunk, I strolled around the hills with another good friend of mine. She was a rather large girl, and the friendliest, most accepting person you will ever meet. She was a great friend to me and we talked and talked into the night, letting our souls be one for just a moment. She has gone off to a university in Wales now and I miss our late night chats.
I think I slept in a three man tent with about five others when we eventually retired to get some rest. We talked for a while, but our bodies were too tired to keep it up for much longer. In about two hours time we would wake up and morning would be with us. We would get on the bus and return to normal life. We went to the valley a few times that summer, but this time was probably the best – I’ll never forget it.
If only I could go back and relive it one more time.


© Copyright 2020 George Smith. All rights reserved.

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