Monday 18 November 2013

The Factory




There was a strange beauty about the burnt out shell of the factory that the original building had never had. Especially on days like these where wisps of fog hung in the air giving the impression that fire that had ravaged the old building was still smouldering.

But today was a sad day, tomorrow the bulldozers and wrecking balls would finish the job that the fire had started and clinically raze the factory to the ground. For Mitch that was heresy. The factory had been the heartbeat of this little town for so long, how could they rob the town of such an important part of its heritage and culture? How could they rob Mitch of the only tangible reminder of all his rites of passage? It had been so much more than just a factory; there’d been the social club, the ballroom the sports ground. His first dance, his first kiss, his first smoke and much more all had taken place in or around the old place.

Of course there’d been plans for the site long before the fire but those plans had always incorporated the old structure. But since the fire, the situation has changed it was agreed that the site would be cleared and a new shopping centre would be built.

Mitch was lost in reverie, his eyes more misty than the fog enveloping the ruined building. Smiles flitted across his face as long forgotten memories reappeared in his mind. Faces, names, smells and touches all surfaced from somewhere deep in his brain.

The next morning Mitch had made a decision. Mitch had never been on a demonstration, never been civilly disobedient but he couldn’t just stand by and let them pull the old place down. He put on his warm clothes and made his way down into the valley. The fog was low and wet, more dense than the day before making the burnt out shell look even more eeire. Mitch stood at the gates and waited.

At 8 am exactly the rumbling began and through the fog came first the lights, then the shadows of the huge monsters coming to wreak their damage. The foreman originally mistook Mitch for the security guard and asked him to open the gate. Mitch shook his head. The foreman repeated the request but again Mitch silently shook his head. Mitch knew it was a lost cause, that he was merely delaying the inevitable but when the demolition began at least he’d know that he’d tried to save his memories.
‘Mate you have to move, cos we’re about to tear this place down.’
Mitch just stood there, still saying nothing.
‘If you don’t move I’m going to have to call the police.’
Mitch shrugged and the foreman wandered away taking out his mobile phone.
But before the police had time to arrive Mitch was aware of other people around him. One, then two, then five, ten, twenty. Word was going round the town that someone had stood up to the bulldozers and it was like the like the emperor’s new clothes. Before long there were two to three hundred people at the gates of the old ruin.

Mitch looked at the new mall, It was metallic and glass but not quite as ugly as he’d feared. People came and went and kids played in the swanky play area. It was the heartbeat of the town. The demonstration hadn’t lasted long, just a few hours but it was fun while it lasted and it meant that the factory had for as short time been the heartbeat again and had provided Mitch with one last memory.


Sorry for my mispronunciation of enveloping :-) 

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