by Angela Robb
It was Marcus that broke the swing. He was standing on it, swinging higher and higher, and you could hear the ropes creak where they were tied around the branch. I kept yelling at him to stop, but he wouldn’t. Well the rope snapped on one side and Marcus let out a yell of his own.
Charlie waddled straight over, panicking. I knew he was tugging at Marcus’s jumper, asking if he was all right, but I wasn’t watching and I wasn’t listening. The other rope was still swinging from the tree, and the piece of wood was smacking off the ground, splintering.
‘Piece of junk,’ Marcus was saying. He pushed Charlie away and rubbed his knees.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ I said. ‘Now we’ll have to fix it.’
But Marcus said, ‘We’re not fixing it. Swings are for wee weans.’ Then he walked away.
‘Fine then,’ I shouted. ‘I can fix it myself.’
‘Naw ye cannae,’ Marcus shouted back. He picked up a stick and threw it. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.
‘Go where?’ I said.
Our town all looks the same shade of grey from up the hill. Marcus pointed at one of the flattened bits that used to be factories. The buildings haven’t been fixed even though the war stopped two years ago.
I wondered if they might close in and crush us
Charlie said, ‘Why doon there?’ and Marcus said, ‘To look in the rubble, of course. Unless you weans want to stay here and fix yer swing.’ Then he picked up his blazer and satchel and ran off down the hill, laughing.
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About iScot Magazine
July iScot Edition 2017
Scot June 2017 issue - the one with The signpst indicating left for IndyRef and right for - we're all going to die
116 jam packed pages of the best craic in Scotland from the only truly independent pro Scottish magazine, and if you chose not to buy this we're coming round to your house with big Louie and the lads - you've been warned!