Back to Basics (standard:other, 605 words)
Author: K. A. Joyce	Added: Apr 29 2002	Views/Reads: 3132/1	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Sometimes you need to just get away from todays technology and get back to the basics...

~Back To Basics~ (1999) 

The wind whistles through cracks and crevices in the timber walls.  It
dives down the chimney sending the flames leaping ever so higher, 
casting eerie shadows around the room. 

My retreat is compact, but suits me fine.  There is no television or
phone, any way of reaching the outside world.  In a place so perfect it 
is possible to forget what the real world is like. 

Buses and cars, exhaust fumes and chaos – that is the place I had been
brought up in.  Where as the sun went to rest I would walk up the cold, 
worn steps and enter an apartment that squeezed the life out of me. 

It, like every other place was fitted with everything a person ever
wanted: television, telephone, hot water and of course electricity.  
None of this modern technology really mattered to me.  The remote would 
lie on the coffee table untouched and the set itself was collecting 
dust.  I very rarely used the phone. 

Each day, I would enter the flat and bolt the door behind me – it was
unwise to not do so.  My feet carried me to the kitchen where my hands 
would set about making a light meal.  I would then curl up on the couch 
with a warm drink and a selection off the dust-free bookshelf.  For 
several hours I would stay in a place which was better than the real 
world, until the turn of a key would bring me back to reality and the 
realisation that I was no longer alone. 

Late one dreary July night, I was startled by the shrill cry of the
‘phone, sounding louder and more demanding than usual.  The old clock 
chimed twelve – thirty, bringing me to realise that I'd fallen asleep.  
I rose quickly, determined to put an end to the persistent noise. 

“Hello?” My voice sounded unnatural, hoarse and shaky.  The voice on the
other end identified itself as belonging to my boyfriend's best mate.  
I was relieved, having half expected to hear the voice of a police 
officer, until I took a double take of the time. 

“There's been an accident,” said the voice, sounding distant and shaky.
“I'm sorry.” 

I didn't need to hear any more.  I slumped onto the floor, dropping the
receiver back into its cradle.  When it started its shrill cry again I 
savagely ripped the cord from the wall.  I don't know how long I sat 
there, my huddled body shaking with each sob, but once my tears had run 
dry I stood, not knowing what to do. 

Much later as I neared my destination the sky began to lighten, only to
reveal the grey clouds that still hung low over the mountains.  I came 
to a halt in front of the cabin and just stared. 

After awhile I went up to the front door and pushed it open.  I felt the
fur of my best friend's body brush against my leg as he ran inside.  I 
followed him in, sat on the couch and cried myself to sleep. 

This night it wasn't the shrill cry of an electrical appliance that woke
me, but the cry of an owl.  I rose, and having done so many times 
before, quickly got a fire roaring in the hearth.  After a hot drink I 
lay on the mat in front of the fire with my best friend in front of me. 


Out here in this isolation electricity is no good.  I knew that I would
never again be brought bad news by a mere appliance.  I don't need 
those little things in life; they're not always worth it. 


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