The Return by Steve Baker (478 Words)

He stood in the entrance way to the hall; since the change it looked longer than ever.

He hated the journey now.  What had used to be a triumphant return home was now misery.  He wondered if he would ever be free of the pain.

His son sat half way up the stairs watching him; silent, expectant.

With a heavy sigh he put down his briefcase and gave the boy a half hearted smile, it wasn’t returned.

Squaring his shoulders he stared along the hall taking in the details.  Stairs ahead and to his right, with the occasional table next him, also on the right.

He looked up at the solid looking industrial light with its handle and weighed the distance.  Then his eyes moved to the floor, the long expanse of polished wood; he’d wanted carpet, but apparently this was better for him.

Without a change in expression he took a step forward and leapt onto the bottom step of the stairs.

A back flip and turn landed him deftly on the table underneath the coats.  That was a difficult move as the coats hid part of the table; he smiled to himself for a split second.

Leaping off the table he took three steps to the left across the hall and planting his feet squarely on the wall and propelled himself upwards towards the ceiling light. As his hands found the bar he pulled himself up into a ball and swung in an arc back to the left to line himself up with the door way through the middle room.

He let go and rolled as he hit the floor.  Jumping up his hand flashed out and grabbed the top of the open door, swinging round he balanced momentarily; feet on the edge of the door, hands gripping the top.

Pushing off he executed an almost perfect back flip to land feet first on the back of the settee.  Turning he took one step forward and launched himself towards the wall.  His feet found purchase as he took three steps along the wall and pushed off to grab the next light.  Swinging in a 180 degree arch he gracefully dived, feet first, for the open door of the kitchen.

The loud crack as his head hit the kitchen door lintel echoed back up the hallway, as he landed face first on the floor sliding to a stop at his wife’s feet.

Slowly he rolled over and lay on the kitchen floor staring up at the look of sympathy on his wife’s face, “Oh Sweetie, You almost made it too. I’ll get you some tablets.” She said with a sad smile.

“Bad luck Dad, you were doing so well” The boy said leaning over the banister as he disappeared upstairs.

“Bloody parkour flooring” he thought, as he accepted the tablets and glass of water from his wife.

No comments:

Post a Comment