THE HANDSTAND

OCTOBER 2003

Some lights seemed to shine at obscure distances in a large room and the entire place was a seething maze of cubicles. snugs, drifting human shadows, smoke screens of strong tobacco and the dry taste of strong alcohol on the air.

How was he ever going to find her?He stood still and leaned against the wall, he scuffed his feet on the carpet and hung his head down. Then, glancing up he thought he saw a naked figure at some distance from a greenish light off to the left. He stared in that direction but was suddenly pushed aside by a rush of people, a scurry of laughter and running feet. Sullenly he took up his pose against the wall again. He made some effort to overhear the conversations within reach and he fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette.

"That's the one she spoke about, I am sure it is...""Why is he so silent?","Who does he think he is?", "Look at the cut of him, like a fucking boy standing there scuffing his feet..."

Outraged he realised these voices were referring to himself and he took an impulsive step forward in the dark in their direction. He was brought up by a sudden hoot of laughter like a blow close to his face. He sensed a laugh that licked his face and sent his blood racing. He threw down his cigarette prepared to grasp someone - but wherever he moved nothing, a void of darkness opened out infront of him.

Changing tack he moved off to the left where a phosphorescent light shone and needing a drink he searched his pockets again for some change. There was a long bar to the side of the room this way and he called out to a barman for a drink.

"You want a drink?" The barman seemed incredulous. although he had a bottle and glass in his hands, presumably serving someone else... but then he noticed that that the glass in his hand was a large blue glass eye and he seemed to be thrashing it with a leather strap. The mirror behind the barman reflected a mass of faces watching this performance, but when when he turned aside to look at them the dark shadow cast such obscurity that he could not identify any individuals. He looked back at the mirror and he saw that a large well lighted room was reflected there and that some young girls with large handkerchief aprons were were serving drink here and there from trays they carried. The trays were wheels round which the girls and the punters spun ceaselessly and momentarily he shut his eyes.

How was it she had arranged to see him in this place? Where was he in this hall of illusions? He put his hands in his pockets and pressed his jacket to his body, shivering as though he were cold.

Someone now said "Howya" to him and laced his arm familiarly, "Do you want a drink?" - "Yes" he replied tersely and felt the edge of a tray pressed against his ribs. He stretched out a hand to take a glass although he could not see clearly. His hand fumbled among inumerable bottles searching for something to drink from. He took hold of a long stemmed glass and sucked down a mouthful of a heavy red wine. He sighed. He heard the voice beside him again... "Your friend left early you know, he went off with a woman who seemed to recognise him."

"I did not arrange to meet a friend here," he replied, annoyed overtones creeping into his voice. He searched his pockets again for a pack of cigarettes. He took another slug of wine and finally looked at the person who had spoken to him. He could see it was a woman, although the harsh whispering tone of voice could have been a man's. The woman had a mask on her face and he could only see a glint of light on her eyes. This is the place for the punishment, he thought. Tired after a day's work, he said to the woman "I want to sit down somewhere."

She led him into the shadow, they seemed to go a long way.He restlessly shook off her arm saying "I'll find something myself." The woman and the sad light faded away from him and he remained standing in total darkness. O... just what I like, he thought bitterly, and stamped his foot in irritation. An unpleasant scuttering ran by his foot and he heard a door slam. Suddenly he let out a yelp and the sound reverberated as though he stood in a metal tunnel. Rushing forward he stumbled over something and helplessly sank into an inert heap on the floor. He was now a shape among shapes. All around him quiet bodies lay and wherever he probed, foot or hand, he found others. Where they asleep or dead? He took hold of someone's arm and felt over the surface - a coarse woven surface like hessian touched his fingers. His hand then encountered a gape mouthed face, eyeless and the nose and brow were harsh wooden surfaces. He got up on his knees and began frantically feeling these bodies in the dark - they were huge dummies or puppets.... a tangle of sticks and strings confirmed the latter. Human proportions with human features. Some laughed and some bore huge metal tears that ran down their faces and shone dully in a new light that began to permeate the dark. The more frantic his search the more the light seemed to increase a little ... Finding a book on the floor he opened it and endeavoured to see the pages. Pictures of light in a dark hole of insanity, he thought. The sun shone merciless from a blue sky and he found himself thinking : that always happened. A noise of traffic opened up from the pages of the book and vehicles of every kind poured down the long street beside the river. Any turn of the page now and I'll see a picture of her, he said to himself. But she was absent from the pavements. Only the picture of an open window frame seemed to hold some mystery for him and he look impatiently along the river walk hoping to find a bridge to cross over. A cormorant dragging a brilliant line of reflections landed to sit up in the water extending and flapping its wings - it floated downstream with wings held up like the feet of a drowned man. "Hi there, Robbie!" He turned, her smiling face peered down at him from another window - he walked toward the door in the street below.

T.H. Houlighan