Last Night in London

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
What would you do on the last day in London...

Submitted: October 15, 2013

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Submitted: October 15, 2013

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The Last Night in London

As I sit on the cold, iron hide of the lion, I think about how long they've lasted. More than a hundred. Its amazing. The iron is slippy, but still strong. It hasn't disintergrated, hasn't crumbled under the corrosive waves of time. It stands with its three brothers, tall and proud, a symbol of Britain. How many like me have sat on these cast iron bethemonths and thought the same? I sigh and walk down to my family, eating the last supper we will ever have in London, for most likely the rest of our lives. Its sad how everyone knows this, how the end of our little corner of London seems in sight.

But then at least our lives are going somewhere. Not the same old brick houses and dirty streets. This makes everyone happier. Apart from Angelica, my sister. She sits, arms crossed, lower lip trembling as she fights back the tears that I know will eventually come.  My mother comforts her, hugging her tight and whispering into her ear. My father is cooking with his beloved camping stove, arms behind his head as he waits for the sausages to cook. 

Goodness.

That will be something I miss.

Sausages.

Pork and pumpkin, with herbs and spices, covered in greasy flavour. But we will learn how to make these things. Grow our own food, grow our own life.

The country will be a new experiance, a new life, a new feeling.

It will be a new slate, a new leaf, a new obstacle in  the race of life.

A way of getting away from the sadness of the dying embers, of our city life.


© Copyright 2018 James Peters. All rights reserved.

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