‘Purple’

This comes from a writing activity given to me when I was able to recently spend an evening a week on a writing course. We were given two descriptions of people (Will explore this activity to focus on your own writing skills in a future post), and then given a setting and a scene at random. As you can probably tell, the setting is was a ‘supermarket’ and if in doubt, the scene was ‘crisis’.

Outside of about 2 people, this was the first thing I had ever shared publicly, and was certainly the first (and only) piece I have read out loud in public.

I have attempted to play with inner monologue of the main character while also building on the description of surroundings. After multiple drafts, this is the one I am so far most happy with.

Please leave any comments below.

—Purple—

A red glow engulfs the car, matching the colour around his eyes. The colour taunts him at the end of a double. It envelops his space as the fog surrounds his car. This fog is getting thicker each morning.

As amber teases him with the potential of being released from the lane, Johnny hears the engine of a car next to him. The indicators flashing with a flapping driver looking at him. With a wave of his hand the car pulls out into the green fog, down the lane towards the shop.

Only one reason anyone would be out here at this time, just show me purple and I might get some sleep tonight.

The car park is nearly empty. A soft glow from the brake and reverse lights create patches within the dark. Who would go shopping this early? Most normal people are sleeping. The car was parked close to the door and Johnny trudged towards the entrance. The cold always made the doors stick. He tried to look down but caught his reflection in the glass.

This face used to be on covers? He surveyed the site. Touched his eyebrows that kept the shape they were made into each week. But stubble was showing. He began to count the late nights, early starts and broken sleeps with each line on his face. This was the sight that would greet his family when he got home. Where had the man gone from before? He touched his face to feel how the skin moved, the bone beneath felt almost separate. His clothes covered from the double shift at work. As the doors slid open, his reality was met with the rhythmic beeps and a shudder as the air conditioning met him. The hunt was on.

He began to recall a conversation, that felt so long ago, even though it was just that morning.

“The Purple one, don’t get the red one as it just comes back up straight away. But also don’t even think about trying to save money with the cheaper ones, they don’t work”.

No, I love you. Have a great day dear. Thanks for doing a double to help with the birthday party coming up. Nope. Just get the purple one.

Johnny savoured the moment of gained time, his time. Between needing to work and being dictated to by the whims of the newest member of the family. For some reason checking the price tags on certain items had become the newest hobby.

Lettuce – £1.20

Steak – £4.59!

Oat milk – £1.75

Crisps – £2.05

“Excuse me, could you reach the packet on that shelf”.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

A shorter person stood adjacent to him nearly half his height, pointing at one of the items on the top shelf. Johnny reached for one but on seeing the expiry date, paused.

“Are you eating this today?”

“No, it is for the weekend”

Carefully, Johnny collected one from near the back and passed it to him. Ironic how shorter people will always be forced to collect the things with the shortest dates.

For a moment Johnny moseyed aimlessly through the aisles, taking in the different prices and offers with bright colours. Then he saw why he was there.

Hanging from the ceiling. Blue sign. Medicine.

Sleep was close.

Johnny first caught sight of the floral women as she floated through the aisle clutching two brown paper bags. These bags were not from here. Showing everyone the other shop. Johnny didn’t go to that part of town. They were out of his way, but also buying bread there would mean dinner would simply be, a slice of bread. Johnny saw how her dress held its form as she wandered down the aisle. Her hair lightly bounced. Had he been awake he may have noticed that she had similar lines to his, although far less in number.

The redness around his eyes had grown from the lights, however, there was a momentary reprieve as he caught sight at the last remaining bottle of purple liquid on the shelf. Placing it in the basket he could feel sleep calling her faithful tune.

‘Oh is that the last bottle?’

Oblivious, and with the hunt complete, Johnny began to walk down past the floral pattern dress, heading straight for the automatic tills. The beeps had become a countdown to a baby crying followed, hopefully, by sleep.

‘Oh drat it is. Excuse me sir, could you spare a moment’.

The light touch on his arm broke the spell of the beeps for the floral women to be met with red eyes, trimmed eyebrows and a face that showed more shifts than sleep.

He was met with a this is why I don’t come to this part of town smeared across her face.

‘I see that you have the last bottle available. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to let me purchase it for my little one’.

Johnny will be crying through the night.

‘No’.

‘But you don’t understand, my little one is so very poorly and our baby sitter won’t work over the weekend.’

‘There is the red one over there’.

‘Oh thank you so much, I will get that for you and swap’

‘What? No. Wait? That’s not what I meant’. Rubbing his eyes to try to stop the piercing luminous bulbs. ‘I mean there are red ones you can use instead’.

‘Oh, well, little Billy doesn’t like it and can make an awful mess. We like to get him the other one so we can sleep easier at night’. She passes the red one to Johnny.

His hand quivers vacantly over the basket.