Dave

I do not belong in this place. I look in the mirror but I don't see my face. All I see is a man, a man I don't know or recognise. I look him in the eyes. I try to figure him out. He could be anyone, do anything. He isn't though. He just stands there. He just wont go. He smiles: How can he be happy. He has nothing and nowhere to go. He has a life somewhere, but for it he has nothing to show. At the toss of a coin he could be this or be that; but he knows that he will never go anywhere. He needs direction, 'get up and go', to move his feet. Stop being a doormat and pick himself up off the street. This man, this man who stares at me day after day. This man is me, Dave.
Each morning Dave wakes up; before eleven-thirty but never before nine. He will make a cup of tea and a bacon and egg sandwich with tomato ketchup or brown sauce. After having had his breakfast Dave will often walk out to the woods. Dave enjoys setting snares in a feeble attempt to catch rabbits. He has yet to catch any. Sometimes he doesn't set any snares and just walks about. Dave used to walk the beach. This was until the dog died. Dave has no job. No savings. He drinks more than Dave should. He is known to sporadically indulge in drugs. This includes a particular penchant for skunk and other people prescriptions. Dave often dreams. He spends the time by himself thinking out scenarios for events that will never take place during confrontations that wont occur. Dave spends the rest of his day trawling the Internet for entertainment, porn and cheap medicines. This all under the guise of job searching and the sending out of C.V's. By five O'clock Dave is drunk. He will continue drinking until the point at which he falls into a deep sleep. This will happen and he will spill the contents of drink in hand over himself. He will then retire to bed. This has been Dave's routine for nearly two years now. Dave was content with his life. Dave was happy within his own personal purgatory.

Thursday, 2nd December. 2010.

As Dave returned home from the woods. Rucksack with snares and other equipment, bits and bobs, and a bottle of strong dark rum, on shoulder. Still yet to catch a rabbit and with only a third of his bottle left. Dave struggles with the key to his bedsit. Dave unlocks the door eventually. Looking up as he pushes the heavy wooden door open he sees something peculiar. A plastic wallet with some paper inside folded in half and stuck to his door. He takes it from the door and follows it inside. Struggling to see straight Dave understands what the letter is for. Dave is being evicted. Dave finishes his drink and begins pouring another.

Friday, 17th December. 2010.

The morning is bright and crisp. There is a light frost over the grass and footpath alike. It is a silent morning with little sound other than that of a light breeze and the slight crunch underfoot of the mornings frost. The landlord walks up the path. Reaching the door he stops and pull out a large set of keys. Sifting through the keys he eventually picks at one. Inserting it into the lock and opening the door he stops. Dave is still in the bedsit. Body swollen and looking bruised all over. He lies legs outstretched diagonally down the sofa. Dave looks like he could fall off at the drop of a hat. His eyes grey and turned up at the ceiling. Mouth open just ever so slightly with traces of vomit in the corners. His trousers look soiled but to what extent cannot be determined due to the overpowering odor of rancid rotting meat. Upon the low coffee table in front of Dave lies one empty bottle of rum, one empty bottle of gin, two and a half empty packets of cigarettes, three medicine bottles and a note. The note on the coffee table had a few lines scribbled out here and there and a few more on the back. All that was legible read '1 and a half years and not one rabbit'. Dave was cremated by the state after no family or friends could be contacted.