I was browsing through one of Remi’s sidelinks when something caught my eye. On the Nigeria-based eSquash site, there was a concept design competition, with 4 topics/themes to follow. Due to several conversations, things i’ve read and general introspection: Why males die younger, stuck out and captured my attention. Then while i was walking in Alperton the other day i jotted the following story down as a start to my exploration of the topic:

The small boy raced down the steps, ahead of his mother. He had already decided they were going to catch this train. The hypnotic clatter of the iron drew him closer. He just wanted to go home, and wasn’t going to be delayed.

Looking back, his overweight parent panted for air, balancing her body with two large bags of miscellaneous shopping that the boy felt had taken far too long to buy. It was his time now. So, jumping into the carriage, he stood in the doorway, willing his mum, like a waiting relay sprinter.

As her quickened feet hit the last step, the graffitied doors began to slide shut. “Almost there,” he thought.

Bracing himself for the impact, our little hero thrust out his arms imitaing the pictures of Samson he had been shown in Sunday School a few weeks prior. Feeling the hard rubber edges of the creaking shutters meet his palms, he gritted his teeth, focusing at first on his waddling mother and then intently at the weathered silver strip indicating her finish line.

She wasn’t going to make it, if not for him. But his five-year-old frame crumbled, as he vainly felt the alloy step plate shrink in width, until the thunk of the doors and familiar hiss of hydraulics confirmed the inevitable.

He heard somebody cough, over on the left, further down the carriage. But he was looking, wide-eyed through the greasy pane of glass seperating him and his mother. He felt ashamed at his feebleness; focusing on irrelevences like his opaque reflection. He had failed her.

Raising his glance, he locked eyes on his exhausted mother, who with a look of horror, had dropped her bags, as she watched her young son accelerate away into the lightless, dusty tunnel.