Glenmsmith

Out walking in the snow covered back streets of Edinburgh, I fell hard over a tramp.
‘What are you doing?’ the body erupted.
‘Sorry, did not see you in the shadow.’
I have heard strange things about the night people of Scotland but this was a soft , blurry image.
‘Stay where you are.’ The large blur commanded, with him was a massive dog leaning towards me.
‘Why?’ seeing beyond the face of the dog I now realised he was wearing a kilt and sporran. Massive man just like his dog, with a great red beard and long red hair.
‘You hit your head and it is bleeding, hold still and I will bandage it.’
He sat down and took a first aid kit from his sporran, he wiping the blood off then wrapped a roll of gauze bandage around my head.
‘Right laddie we need to get you to hospital, can you stand?’
I slowly sat up and the world seemed to tilt at an alarming angle and then I seem to sink into a greying darkness.

​

The antiseptic light seemed to shine right through my head as I wondered why he was pointing his great big torch at me.
‘Lie still and let me examine you.’ A strange voice and then a woman said something.
‘The head wound is clean and I do not think it needs stitches, I will just re-bandage it, otherwise is he alright?’ Woman again.
‘Yes, just a nasty bang on the head, too much alcohol in him for him to have felt it.’ Strange voice again, where is the kilted man and his dog?

​

I feel someone touch me and sense light and white, must be a nurse.
The nurse, yes it was definitely a nurse, looking very efficient, clean and absolutely beautiful.
‘Are you an angel?’ I asked expecting anything.
Her eyes laughed as she smiled, ‘Too you maybe, but too my mother, I am just a girl.’
‘Where am I?’
‘You are in the Royal Infirmary, do you not remember coming in last night?’
‘No, only falling over a big man and a dog, just as big, I recall he tried to help me, then I woke up here.’
‘What did this man look like?’ Angel nurse asked intently, gentle pushing me back against the pillows
‘Massive, he wore a kilt and sporran, his dog was just as big but seemed gentle, so was he, now that I think of it.’
‘Did he have a beard?’ she asked.
‘Yes a red beard and red hair, but how did I know it was red, it was dark?’ I could see him so clearly, as if he was highlighted under a street light.

​

“How is he doing Nurse Collins?’ 

‘Still no signs of waking up Doctor.’ 

​

A smooth, soft tongue was licking my hand.

The image was so clear, every colour crisp, in perfect focus. Blue clean sky background resting on endless white sand, filled the space. Captured forever but never to be seen. The bullet that went through the woman’s head left only a small dark mark on her temple as she tried to retrieve her water bottle. The next image showed the dust erupting from all around her body as it hit the soft sand of the desert. So dry the water spilled and was lost forever in the thirsty soil.

My father had said that my choice of a career in photo journalism was for pansy boys, why was he not here to help his pansy son now?

 

‘Aye, he does look better, best stop licking his hand and let him wake normally.’
I opened my eyes and saw the biggest man and dog sitting next to me. He filled the space normal people would leave and all was him and his dog.
‘Just take a while to get your senses back laddie.’ He gently urged. ‘You just need some time and then you will be fine.’
What was the name of his dog, my lips would not say the words but it was important just then to know.
‘Baxter, son, that is his name and you know who I am.’ I did and that seemed very important.
‘Do they know it is Christmas’ was playing somewhere in the space beyond him. Is it Christmas already?
‘Thank you.’ I said from deep down and I was suddenly very happy I could say just that.
‘Oh you finally have your voice back, which is good now it is time to try and get you on your feet and out of here.’ Standing up he brought back that greying darkness.

​

Christmas time, don’t let the bells end. Home for Christmas. But how many mountains to cross, how many days will it take to be home? Home, that special place, safe a shelter from the war.

I need to try and find a way out from here, it is too dark and when I look I see no doors but I know he is still sitting next to me, shining like the sun and it is up to me now to find the exit. How many images will it take to finish the story and tell the truth? How many nightmares, tears, to have had enough?

​

‘Grandfather, where is Baxter?’ He does not hear as he sleeps in the chair next to me, hand down waiting to feel the touch of the softest, warmest animal a man would ever love. He does not seem so big now and the blur seems to be lifting. I remember the fall, the coming home party.
What a night. This pansy takes the photographs you want on you television and in your newspapers, this pansy has had to grow up into a man to take those photographs and people have had to die.

​

‘Wondeful, you are awake, you had us worried, how are you feeling?’ someone asks.
‘I feel strangely better, what a night.’
‘Four nights and at times you seem to want to leave us.’ different nurse explained as I realised I was very thirsty.
‘May I have some water please?’
Giving me the water I noticed Grandfather was no longer there but I knew that.