I love this. It reminds me of a sort of inversion from my childhood- playing in houses that were under construction. They didn’t bother to put up fences around construction sites in those days, and we were free to gather up stray nails and run up and down naked stair cases. The wood had a wonderful, fresh pine smell, and would weep sap that was clear as a jewel and sticky….
Agree with everyone on the twist at the end of your story. Can’t help but think of his poor head.
I love the image of the teacher dragging the boy out of the room. Brings back memories not of that but of kids being kids. Wonderful but now I need to know more.
This has such a specific, strange teenage energy to it. Dusty renovations, abandoned houses, kebabs, hashish, half-dressed boys doing pull-ups in the Alps while adulthood hovers somewhere very far away.
And then that image of the teacher dragging Charles out by the ankles like it was somehow the most practical solution available absolutely tipped the whole thing into surreal memory in the best way. Thank you!
Wonderful collection of memories. Love the description of the bombed out building and the vision of boys enjoying their smoke while sitting in the ruins, the brief introductions and descriptions of various locations and situations, from the Alps to unkempt rear gardens, all nicely paced in three paragraphs. Go Patrick!
I love this. It reminds me of a sort of inversion from my childhood- playing in houses that were under construction. They didn’t bother to put up fences around construction sites in those days, and we were free to gather up stray nails and run up and down naked stair cases. The wood had a wonderful, fresh pine smell, and would weep sap that was clear as a jewel and sticky….
Agree with everyone on the twist at the end of your story. Can’t help but think of his poor head.
Thanks for this, Leffel, love your descriptions
vivid! My school years were much less eventful
I love the image of the teacher dragging the boy out of the room. Brings back memories not of that but of kids being kids. Wonderful but now I need to know more.
Haha indeed
This has such a specific, strange teenage energy to it. Dusty renovations, abandoned houses, kebabs, hashish, half-dressed boys doing pull-ups in the Alps while adulthood hovers somewhere very far away.
And then that image of the teacher dragging Charles out by the ankles like it was somehow the most practical solution available absolutely tipped the whole thing into surreal memory in the best way. Thank you!
Thanks, Michelle!
Wonderful collection of memories. Love the description of the bombed out building and the vision of boys enjoying their smoke while sitting in the ruins, the brief introductions and descriptions of various locations and situations, from the Alps to unkempt rear gardens, all nicely paced in three paragraphs. Go Patrick!
Cheers Charles!