FROM THE ROOF-TOPS
Prompt - From the Roof-tops : Imagine you could stand on a rooftop ansd broadcast a message to everyone below - what would you say?
He'd never noticed the hatch before, but there it was, blackly standing out from the grey tiles that surrounded it. Was this what he needed? He reached up and pushed on one side with an extended forefinger. It lifted easily, lighter than he'd thought. His hand moved across to the slight opening he'd created, latched on to the rail. He pulled down, pulled some more, swung from his extended limb. Yes, it would take his weight.
With a strength that would have surprised any onlookers, and had come as a bit of a shock to him too, he pulled himself up, getting a good grip with both hands, his ageing biceps filling and flexing with the power to lift his body vertically until his head was level with the opening and he could prop the hatch open a bit more. There was just enough light to the lower rungs of a metal ladder running up from the bar he had a grip on.
With grunt of exertion and a swift movement of his left arm he had hold of the bottom rung. One by one, the sweat running freely down his face, he raised himself higher, until finally, just before the pain got too much, he could swing up his right leg, push back and up and raise his whole body through and on to the ladder. With one heel helping to slow down the impact, he let the hatch return to it's closed position, and rested on the ladder for a few moments, strength and breath returning, disbelief evaporating. Suddenly he knew he would find his way up to where he'd never been.
The ladder took him, through the semi darkness (he couldn't quite figure where the thin light was coming from) to another hatch, sibling to the one below. It too opened freely, and moved him up into a space with a lower ceiling, this time well lit through the glass bricks at either end. He rested again, considered his options. This must be the final step before he could get on to the roof. Crouching slightly, he explored along and above, until he found a small exit hatch in the north wall. It was stiff, but gave way to a shoulder. Almost too quickly, for he nearly tumbled through and out on to the curved metallic surface outside, one that offered little grip and very quick way down. Sticking his head out he saw a grab rail along the side of the wall, leading to a short while flight of metal steps, which took him up to the highest point of the block. Up with the ariels and the seagulls.
He looked around, his horizons amplified above and beyond the usual views from his windows, now that he was twenty feet higher. Under an endless blue sky and soft golden sun he could clearly see the Firth, and Fife coastal villages to the north, while the city spread out across the hills to the south, peaks and spires and towers competing for attention with the castle. Down below the scheme had shrunk, but the people grew, in number anyway, as he was spotted up there with the birds, as fingers pointed and mouths gabbled. He sensed, rather than saw, the bus arriving in the road at his back, spotted the blonde bob bobbing along behind the wall. Unfurled the banner in his hands (strange, he couldn't recall bringing it with him, but here it was) and checked the seven letters and single symbol in red. Small enough to hold wide open, big enough for the word spelled out to be clear to the crowd below.
She came round the corner. Saw the assembled neighbours first, wondered at the excitement. Followed their eyes upwards and saw him seeing her. The banner appeared like magic. Her name, one heart, one man holding it. Her man.
"I. LOVE. BARBARA." One vocal blast at a time he gave the world his message. "ALWAYS HAVE. ALWAYS WILL."
The audience applauded and whooped. She smiled at his madness.
Barbara woke suddenly, too quick for her body to keep up. Fear surfaced in response to the unknown.
"What the f...?" Something had happened, something had made a noise. Had he heard it?
"Wooo, yeah, wayhey!" he shouted, as if someone was there to listen.
Was that all it had been? He'd been shouting out in his sleep? Wooh, yeah, wayheh? What was that all about ? She turned to look at him, just about managing to prop herself up on one uncertain elbow. His face was a bundle of soft curves and sunken orifices in the pale light coming through the blind. He was smiling. That looked a lot like his "I did it, aren't I clever?" face. What the f...?
He seemed at peace now, no point in waking him. Not even for revenge. She settled back on the pillow and remembered the day. Forty three years they'd been married today. She wondered what he'd shouted that woke her up. Had it made any more sense than the bit she'd heard? Probably not. Daft bugger.
She went back to sleep. He was still high above them.
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