The Watch – Part 204:

(Tom’s perspective)

At least it’s a warm day. Everyone around me knows exactly where they want and need to go. They know what they want, need and have to do. And they only have to worry about normal things. They don’t have to worry about suddenly being trapped in another universe. I wonder how many people actually believes in parallel universes. I doubt that, with them worrying about all the necessities, they would believe in them. I wonder what their reaction would be if I told them that I was from another universe. They would probably label me as crazy.

I don’t know where I’m going because I don’t have a destination in mind. I’m just walking in this direction, letting my feet lead the way. I turn down this road and that road, not paying attention to their names because I just don’t see the point in remembering them. I’m just plainly and simply walking.

I turn to my left and see, stretching as far as I can see, a single street. I stopped walking and admired the view for a couple of seconds before carrying on. It had many apartments, shops, offices, and if I identified that correctly, a very tall carpark that had several stories, but I wasn’t sure if that was just an ordinary building with a two story carpark on the roof. It’s probably the latter the more that I look at it. Right, I had better keep going. Walking aimlessly forwards is much better than just standing around.

No other road was as long as this. I remember Sebastian telling one day that the horizon is 2.9miles away from you at sea level, and considering that the end of this street disappears behind the horizon, it must be more than 3 miles. How much further than that, I will only know when I get further enough along it. Will I actually be walking the entire distance? I cannot be certain. I’ll walk as far as I can before I have to stop. On average, my feet start to ache around about the 7-mile mark, and I doubt I’ve walked more than 2 miles already. I doubt I’ve even walked more than a mile and a half, so I can get quite a way down here.

This street isn’t as busy as all the other streets that I’ve been down. There are still so many people that you have to keep weaving in and out of, changing your direction every so often instead of simply walking forward, but compared to all the other places I’ve been before here, this place is relatively quiet. There are still just as many cars, though. I can see in the distance that there are several busses crossing this street at the lights. Not one that I’ve seen so far have turned towards me, telling me that this must be the part of the city where there are no bus services. It was just then that a bus came past me in the direction that I was walking. I stand corrected.

It stopped just in front of me and five people hopped off: a family of three, an old woman, and a young man who helped the woman off with her bags. She said her thanks and they went off in their separate directions. I like it when someone offers their help to someone. Anyone who offers even the tiniest bit of help to someone who is clearly struggling instead of leaving them there to fend for themselves, deserves some recognition. Obviously, that is what they do that for. They just see a person who needs help and helps them. It’s as simple as that. I try and do my bit as much as I can. I’ve helped as many people as I can. There just hasn’t been anybody who needs it, and if they do, there’s always someone who’s quicker than me getting there before me. Of course that’s not a bad thing.

As three people climbed on board, I had walked to the front of the bus. I wonder where this bus is going. I look up at the sign above the front window and read: Pogo Street.

I couldn’t help but smile at that. Pogo Street. What kind of a name is Pogo Street? I can imagine a group of counsel officials sitting around a large table in a very big conference room, wearing very expensive suits, discussing what to call a particular street. The reaction that person who suggested Pogo Street must have gotten. Either that, or everyone agreed in an obvious manner as if to say that they should have realised how obvious it was. The person who erected the sign or painted the words must have been giggling uncontrollably. Professionally suggesting Pogo Street is hilarious.

I wonder where Pogo Street is. I won’t be able to ride the bus there because I have no money, but maybe I can find it. That could be my objective for now. Find Pogo Street. Well, all I have to do is ask someone where it is and they’ll point me there. It would save me wondering around for hours, but then again it would distract me for a long period of time if I were to walk around with the hope that I would stumble across. Well, it’s something to do, I guess.

The bus’s doors closed and it pulled out of the bus stop. Shrugging, I set about finding Pogo Street. There must be a very good reason why that street was named that way. Maybe I’ll find out that reason once I’ve found it. What if all the shops sell nothing but Pogo sticks? Or what if… well, that’s all that I can think of at the moment. Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s a good one. And I shouldn’t really be making fun of the name. I am from another universe after all. I need to start paying attention to the road names. It could be anywhere. It might even be back where I came from.

Then my stomach growled. I forgot that I was hungry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)