'Vertigo' by Tom Ashton (Prose)

Vertigo

Let me tell you from where my distress originates. Let me make you understand.

Past my feet, I had seen the street; all so clear in the charming glow of summers’ sun, obscured only by an occasional flock of passing Sparrows.

I had seen the gym freak, with bleached blonde hair, dragging his small brunette behind him. I’d noticed she hadn’t commented as her beloved, Chlamydia-riddled rugby player had paused to admire a passing ‘Barbie’. They’d disappeared amongst a mass of chino-wearing lookalikes.
I’d seen a decent bloke scowl at the meathead ogling his girlfriend; ‘I hate lads like him, don’t you?’
‘Hmm,’ she’d murmured, slipping her number into the lout’s hand as he passed, ‘I don’t go for looks, I want a man who’ll look after me.’

On a bench, near a tree, I had seen a group of Tracksuits observe an approaching mouse. Beneath long and scraggly hair Mousey had worn a black trench coat and heavy Dr Martens. I’d seen dark mascara run down its pale face and flecks of claret within the savage, Nike Air storm. Outside the Victoria Tavern, I’d seen two football fans, one of them solemnly considering his watch. When the Police had arrived, the pair had looked resigned, as Her Majesty’s Finest raced past the mouse-stompers and brutally bludgeoned them both.

Below, on the balcony, I’d seen a glass eyed reporter scribbling as a politician’s lips moved in his ear. The headlines had run; ‘If you’re lusting after someone else, your partner isn’t fully providing. Don’t blame yourself.’, ‘Community proud, as local youths stand against the Emo menace’ and ‘Football Hooliganism; How Police heroes are winning.’

Past my feet, I can see the street; all so clear in the hateful glare of summers’ sun, obscured only by the occasional flock of passing Sparrows. Do you understand why my feet have brought me here and why they must take me one step further?

Tom Ashton