Their Voices Rattled on My Window Sill - Part 4 by Seb

Nothing, again.

I am going to cheat here. To give you some history of the principal characters in this here text, without making any effort to include it in the story. You know what I mean? I do like seeing (and commenting on) the different devices that cinema or television or literature use to give the characters background. I’m not talking about good cinema or television here. Oh no. It’s the poor devices that I be liking.

One devise is putting the character in a compromising situation, and then depict how a past experience/s helped them through.

For example: Tom was walking about one day, when he needed to take a dump. He jumped the fence into someone’s back yard. He looked around, and saw a small vegetable patch. He decided to shit in the vegetable patch. He enjoyed his little attempt at rebel rousing. It wasn’t until he was done that he realised that he had no toilet paper. He panicked, but then remembered that once he’d been camping, and had used some leaves to wipe his arse. He looked around, saw a pumpkin, and wiped his bum with the leaf.

See, his past experience helped him not ruin his underwear. WOW!

Sometimes you get history in dialogue, for example,

“Oh man, this reminds me so much of when we were ten. You remember, when we came home from camping, and no one was around. It was like Armageddon or something. Just empty streets and shops and homes and towns. Remember that? We never found out what happened.

Sometimes, history comes in the form of a new character, one a protagonist knew in the past.

“Ruby? You have changed so much?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you used to be so shallow, and self-obsessed?”
Ruby laughed, “True, but the world has changed. All this happened so suddenly. I had never even seen a gun until a few months ago. Now look at me,” Ruby laughed again.
“Shit, I know. You wouldn’t use the same tissue twice. Jesus.”

And sometimes, you get history through a new character. You know the scene, a So how was it for you? conversation. Or, How did you make it, how did you get by? conversation.

“So, then yeah, 6 months. We have only seen a few faces in the that…”
Tom froze up, he just realised his lie had been exposed.
“Hang on,” said the new person, “I thought it was just you and your friends for the last few months?”
“We ran into some dudes from the army once. I mean, they looked like they were from the army.”
“What happened? The army guys saved us. Brought us here.”
“It, it was fucked. There were two, in a jeep. One tried to touch Ruby. She slapped him. He hit her back….”
“…”
“And then Mike snapped. Fucking snapped. He smashed the army guy in the face with the butt of his gun. I was frozen, but then one of the girls’ screams shook me awake. But before I could try and help – I’m not sure what I would have done – Mike had finished it. As quickly as anything I have ever seen. After hitting the one who hit Rube, he turned shot the first guy twice, and then turned and did the same with the one he had hit. No pause or nothing, no contemplating. Bang, bang.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. So quick. Both dead. I have never seen him like that.”
“Take a man our of his comfort zone, and see him fall apart.”
“Perhaps. But we haven’t collapsed. We have grown stronger. We have a few skills you know? I can camp, I can cook and shit, but I couldn’t skin a pig. After a few weeks, reality set in for us, and we just fitted in nicely to our new roles.”
“What there they?”
“We thought we were the last people on earth.”

Sometimes you learn about hopes and dreams.

“I’ll never see Paris.”
“Forgot Paris Tom, Rome. Rome is amazing.”
“I’ll never fuck Sophie Howard.” They all looked at Tom. That was unlike him to say such a thing. Mary laughed, but Ruby just rolled her eyes.
“Ruby? What about you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t need to move out of home and moved into a sharehouse in Collingwood and live like a pig getting drunk every night and smoking too much. I guess I will never get to be reckless.”
“That’s sad.”
“I know.”

Their Voices Rattled My Window Sill - Part 3 by Sebastien de Robillard

Mike and Ruby returned home under the cover of darkness. They ate steak with roasted vegetables that night. It was Tom’s turn to cook. He was normally pretty good with kitchen stuff. That, and he could shoot pretty damn good too.

“So nothing at all today.” Ruby’s comment hung in the air – it was an awkward tone. She sounded disappointed, but then also pleased at the same time.

You know, like when you say phew, I’m glad I didn’t have to do that, because you didn’t really want to be put into a position you’ve never experienced, but deep down, you are disappointed because you were looking forward to this new something, something you have never experienced.

Just like that.

“You sound disappointed,” Mary said, “And Tom, why don’t you try making gravy, just once? You know you would be good at it?”

“I guess I am a bit. I haven’t seen anyone in a long time. Sorry, anyone else. Plus, I want to know what is going on in the world.”

“I don’t like gravy,” said Tom. Mike nodded his head in approval.

“To be honest, I am too,” Mike said, after the head nod of approval, “I’d like to see what is happening in the world. I want to know what others are doing?”

“I guess I also want some closure.” Mike shrugged his shoulders and returned to his food.

“We all do, but what kind of closure will it be? Prison? Shot by some pissed off solider wanting revenge?” Ruby reiterated points they had all discussed before.

Mary added some brown sauce to her food. “Maybe we should check our stocks and replenish. Especially on the can foods and ammo and stuff.”

Everyone nodded their agreement.

After dinner, Mike went upstairs, to their “Home Look-Out”. He was hoping to see some lights, but knew that they would have no such luck tonight. He lit a small cigar he had in his pockets, and smoked by the open window. He heard a sound behind him, it was Mary. She walked up to Mike, sat next to him and put her head on his shoulder.

Another Ridiculous Tram Script by Seb

He wore a jumper, it was dirty, and non-descript beanie – the kind somebody leaves behind, and he just grabbed it and put it on because it kept his head warm. Not because it looked good, or matched his outfit, or showed all of us who his favourite footy team was. No, simply because it kept him warm.

He was holding a fold up pram. His wife, sitting next to him, held the rest of the pram. She didn’t look as old as him, but she had seen years too. She was pretty in a 50 something motherly way, and she held a Big W bag.

People like this make me so sad. They make me consider my life. My ridiculous hopes and dreams. My ridiculous excesses. They had built a home, and they had raised a family. They were spending the day in the city with their daughter and her 4 year old kid.

My ridiculous values and ridiculous hair. My ridiculous wants and ridiculous needs.

They were watching the passing streets with great earnest, obviously looking for their stop. I took off my headphones, but did not stop the music.

“Where are you guys getting off?” I say.

“Williams Road.” He says. They are both looking at me now.

“Well, that’s my stop, so you guys can follow me.” I make a joke about the jumper I’m wearing. He says he kept an eye out for the Shell service station.

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s a good…orientation point.” He agreed. I used the word “orientation” for the first time since year 10 camp, when it was last relevant.

He went on, nodding his head, “A good landmark.”

The tram stopped, they followed me off. I bid them farewell.

“Good night and good luck.” I turned away and put my ridiculous headphones back on. A ridiculous song continued playing on my ridiculous ipod as I started trudging back to my ridiculous apartment.

Why did I wish them good luck?

Their Voices Rattled My Window Sill - Part 2 by Sebastien de Robilalrd

Part 2

“So, they’re here to find their comrades?”
“Comrades? This isn’t Cuba, Mary.”
“You know what I mean. It’s been a while though?”
“Only about a month. What should we do? Tea anyone?”

Everyone followed Tom into the kitchen. He turned the kettle on and grabbed some milk from the fridge. Mike still complained about the UHT milk, he said it lacked flavour. Tom didn’t mind. It lasts forever right?

“Do you think we should resume the post?” Tom asked when everyone was seated around the kitchen table, hands warmed by the freshly brewed tea.

“Maybe,” said Mike, “Perhaps we should find a new place somewhere near the edge of town, perhaps near the freeway?”

“Yeah, good idea. When?”
Mary piped in, “Lets give it a full day before we all move out. How about somebody man the Tower tomorrow for the day? They can head out while it’s still dark?”

The Tower was a bistro a few kilometres away that contained an excellent, windowed tower. You could see the city pretty clearly from there.

Ruby volunteered. “Two of us should go. Mike?”
“Sure little sister. Leave at 4?”
“Sounds like a plan.”


Ruby and Mike woke up early and headed for the tower. They didn’t drive, or take their bikes. The less noise the better. They could hide better on foot. This did mean a much longer walk to the Tower. It was almost sun up by the time they reached the back entrance. They unlocked the door at the back, ducked in, and then locked the door again. It was important it looked like no one had entered the building. They climbed the stairs to the Tower. It had been several months since they had been there.

“Dusty.”
“Yeah.” They unpacked their gear; One walkie talkie, two binoculars (lenses capped) and a digital SLR with a rather large zoom. They also pulled out pistols from their holsters, and placed them next to the camera and walkie talkie.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. Be back soon.” Mike climbed back downstairs. Ruby turned the walkie talkie on. At exactly 5 minutes past 7, she pressed down the button. Tom had the other walkie talkie on his bed side table. It hissed briefly. He got up and knocked on Mary’s door.

“Hey, they’re there.”
“Cool.”

Back in the tower, Mike and Ruby were sipping their coffees. Mike was facing south east, Ruby north west. Mike watched a lot of movies, in fact they all did. They knew that they needed to do make sure no sun reflected off any bright objects or mirrors while they were in the tower. The binoculars would only used sparingly. Mike felt he was a bit paranoid, but he was trying to be careful.

“One month? Approximately. That seems like an odd amount of time.”
“I know. You think they would have been eager to get their buddy.”

So, what happened? Why are the gang so secretive? Oh, should I ask, why are they being so careful?

Mike was never the protective older brother. That was not his thing. He would pretend to intrude now and gain, but Ruby had a good head on her shoulders, and he didn’t have to worry about her.