Billy wanted to be the kind of easygoing person that everyone likes. He wanted to be cool: but he wasn’t.
Every morning Billy walked past La Petite Café and saw all the happy customers reading or chatting or laughing, normal people who didn’t have a single care. Every morning Billy thought, “I’m going to go in there one day.”
One morning he awoke before sunrise and, after trying for some time to get back to sleep, he got out of bed and sat near a window watching the distant city lights. Today was the day.
It was a crisp morning in the middle of winter; the moon was hiding in the daytime sky and Billy was watching the café from across the road. His bloodless hands felt tingly and alien. His pulse thumped clearly in his left ear.
“Today is the day,” Billy told himself as he walked towards the café.
He took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, pulled when he should have pushed: the door closed with a bang. Everyone turned to look at him. His face flushed and he felt a cold bead of sweat ran from his armpit.
This wasn’t how he thought it would be.
Once inside he shuffled to the counter his fists clenched tight. He scrunched up his toes too when the waitress asked him to repeat his order.
Billy collected his cup and walked with great caution towards an empty table. There was a pool of cold coffee in his saucer by the time he sat down. His face was burning; his hands cold, damp and shaky.
“Today is the day,” Billy repeated to himself as he pulled a diary and a pen out of his bag.
Turning to a blank page he wrote, “Amongst the Spheres,”
He stopped and frowned at what he’d written.
After some moments he added, “Darkness for light-years.”
He was pulled from his reverie by the laughter of a young woman at an adjacent table. She was engrossed in a book and didn’t seem to care that people were looking at her.
It was then that he realised that what he’d hoped for hadn’t come to pass. His release, his transformation, his metamorphosis, hadn’t taken place.
“Damn this fear,” he thought. “And now I’ve stayed too long; they’re waiting to get my table back.” He started to panic, flung his diary into his bag and marched out of the shop.
He didn’t see the girl with the book trying to catch his eye as he left.
Holly Ringland
oh for the ferocity of fear… and how it’s blindfolds can rob you. i cringed at the anxiety here, it is so vibrant and real. i have missed your work around here matthew… this was sweet reprieve to read.
Matthew Dalton replied
Writing this story was uncomfortable for me. One of my rules for the piece was that Billy couldn’t learn anything from his experience. I don’t think that that can be true of fear in real life though.
It is so good to have you reading my stories. Thanks.
Jeannette Sheehy
oh my gosh – I totally get the character. I used to be a little like that when I was younger…so freakin’ self conscious and fearful of what others might think of me; having to will myself to go into a cafe on my own etc. Welcome back. This is just beautifully written and you have captured this character so perfectly – fear either wills you on, or paralyses you and like Holly says, robs you of living life to the full. Fantastic.
Matthew Dalton replied
Thanks very much Jeannette. I’ve been thinking about this story for months. I think it started with the idea of the moon hiding in the daytime sky and the man who can hear his heart in his ear but can’t hear his heart (things that became minor parts of the final story). This story is semi-autobiographical and I find it hard to feel okay about what I’ve written when it’s so close. Thank-you again for your lovely comment.
Craig Mowat
Well written journey into the lions den. I’d add a glance from the girl that didn’t seem to care, to start his realisation that he should leave. Just to give a clue for the reader.
Matthew Dalton replied
I’m going to be thinking about how can improve this story for a while I think. Thank-you very much for the comment.
Holly Ringland
matthew, i just realised i didn’t favourite this when i read it… and a favourite of mine it is for certain. in reading this i thoroughly understood that this wasn’t going to be the experience that billy finally might learn from… and that lack of realisation is what made this piece all the more powerful for me. i appreciate craig’s suggestion but think that the way you have constructed this leaves more for the reader to deconstruct and contemplate. fear will knock us about until we learn… or not. it is so good to have your work to read… so i thank you.
Matthew Dalton replied
Thanks Holly; your comment is inspiring. A ‘favourite’ from you is a real gift.
In one version of the story Billy heard his heart beating and realised that it had been beating all his life. I cut that when I realised that me caring enough to write the story was enough of a statement. I didn’t want to tell the reader what to feel.
gelfin
I love this story. A physically overwhelming, visceral fear.
Fear still unconquered, always the greatest enemy, holding ultimate power over you.
This story puts you there with Billy and also on the sidelines. Hoping he might find his heart and then realising with frustration that he CAN NOT SEE!
for me this was an ode to awareness, to compassion and to the challenge of being brave in your world.
thank you Dalton.
Matthew Dalton replied
Thank-you for reminding me to write and encouraging me when I do.
I was very pleased you liked this story.
Thank you Dalton.
iAN Derrick
Ah Matthew…Thank you, thank you, thank you, I guess many of us have a little bit of Billy wrapped up inside our psyche….Billy though is a chronic phobia case…for others, like me, it is not a case if FEAR…more a quirk of nature, that may well be assessed as fear. For instance I seriously avoid shops where someone bounds up out of the blue, determined to serve me,....guess, I fear the confrontation with a stranger, bent upon not allowing me to make a personal considered choice.. As another quirk, I very very rarely buy from shops, that do not display prices….guess it is a small fear of being discovered, that I cannot afford what I have chosen…Excellent Matthew..I will favourite HEART.
Matthew Dalton replied
Thank-you for the editing advice and the favorite.
Feeling that there is something wrong with ones own feelings, well, that’s a snake eating its own tail.
I know what you mean about over enthusiastic salespeople. I’ve been known to make a beeline for the shop door before it’s too late; before I’m trapped and have to explain that I don’t know exactly what I want and I was hoping to form some ideas by looking at what’s on offer.
Thanks very much for the comment.
Mark Bateman
Oh what a lovely write! The complete oblivion of this guy, with such cherished and longed for hopes dashed cruelly by a complete lack of self awareness and knowledge. And oh how common – as the comments have shown already.
We think that we each, alone, struggle with our fears, our own personal vacuums into which we dare not digress. And yet, each of us is human, frail, with fears.
I love this piece, I have often thought of writing something similar. I don’t whether you’ve now done it so I don’t need to, or, encouraged me to do similar..
I look forward to any rewrites in the future!
Matthew Dalton replied
Thanks very much Mark. When I wrote this story I wasn’t sure that other people would get what I was going on about. It’s good to know I’m not alone.
I think this is an idea I want to develop so I hope you write your piece so I can see what you do with the concept. Everyone has their own story after all.
Thanks again for the comment.
bellmusker
A piece from you is always, always worth waiting for….damn this fear. Billy has so much to gain and yet the simplest step can seem horrifically far away when such fear has a hold around your throat. The sour taste in your mouth when you’re trying so hard, the hyper awareness of other souls who might not even be aware of you, and the hunger….all this you display so beautifully in your words. And your tags, Matthew…...how three simple words can hold so much poignancy is testament to the way you view language, and how you express it.
Matthew Dalton replied
I had a moment of synchronicity while writing this story; a character in the novel I’m reading suggested that being uncomfortable in society is a sign of bad breading. I had to smile.
This is may sound ridiculous but one of the things that helped me feel okay about being awkward was a list of famous introverts I found on the Internet. There are some really great people on that list. Now when I feel awkward I play it up a little. No one tells you that though, that other people feel the same way; no one ever tells you the important stuff.
This story is very personal to me and your thoughtful comment means a great deal.