Fic: The Streets, wesseling, white cortina
Title: The Streets of Manchester - Part 1 of 7
Author: wesseling
Word Count: 595
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine.
Summary: Different stages of Gene's life. Part 1: Gene's childhood.
Notes: Again, this is a story I startet in 2008 and never finished (until now?). Thanks to thesmallhobbitI have now parts 1 - 4 ready to go.
‘The street’s no playground, kiddie, got that?’
The little boy looked with wide brown eyes at Gene. He was not scared, not even intimated as far as Gene could tell, no, the toddler had a mere quizzical look on his face, as if he was still trying to work out what had just happened - and if it was something good or something bad.
‘Don’t run off chasin’ a stupid ball on a busy street!’ Gene continued his lecture, his heart still racing like crazy and the blood rushing through his ears. It had been such a wonderful lazy spring day. The first nice day after weeks of rain. The temperature was finally warm enough to go out in a short-sleeved shirt. He’d been wandering through Manchester’s streets, looking for something to occupy himself with until it was time to get Stu and head home. In the end, he had settled on just lying in the grass, letting the sun warm his face, when suddenly a football had appeared out of nowhere, rolling towards one of Manchester’s main roads, with a two to three-year-old kid chasing after it, oblivious of the danger.
Had Gene been any slower that lad would be as flat as a sheet of paper. But, luckily, Gene was a fast runner; he was in fact the fastest 9-year-old in his school.
‘Now,’ Gene held onto the hand of the little boy, ‘where are your mum and dad?’ He checked for any concerned looking adults near by. Behind a hill a young blond woman appeared, her hands forming a funnel. She was shouting Sammy. The little boy started to pull, wanting to break loose, but Gene had a firm grip. ‘Mummy,’ the toddler said and jumped up and down, stretching out his skinny, little arm and pointing towards the woman.
‘Alright, alright,’ said Gene, ‘I see her.’
The woman had finally spotted her son and was now jogging down the hill, careful not to slip on the still wet grass. Gene looked at her closely. He noticed she was wearing really strange clothes. The woman’s blouse was bright yellow, and what Gene found most puzzling, she was wearing trousers, tight blue trousers, which were wide around the ankle. It looked just silly, like a clown’s costume almost. Little Sammy, whose clothes didn’t appear any less weird, was still pulling to break free. Then Gene remembered the ball. ‘Wait here,’ he said and ran across the street to pick up the ball. Gene held it in his hands and ran his fingers over the smooth leather surface. He spinned the ball around, admiring the good workmanship of the material, wishing he had a football like this. He was sure the woman would want to show her gratitude that he, Gene, had saved her son from being squashed by a speeding car. However, when his eyes caught sight of an emblem that was painted on the leather, Gene pulled a face. He read the yellow and red letters again then shoved the ball back into the toddler’s arms.
‘Here. Now go!’
Gene watched how Sammy ran towards his mum, giggling all the way. The sudden ringing of the church bells reminded Gene that it was time to pick up Stu at John-John’s house and he turned his back on the odd mother and son duo. Gene began running and thought he’d rather continue playing footie with old, rusty tin cans than with a ball that had a Man Utd emblem on it.
Author: wesseling
Word Count: 595
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine.
Summary: Different stages of Gene's life. Part 1: Gene's childhood.
Notes: Again, this is a story I startet in 2008 and never finished (until now?). Thanks to thesmallhobbitI have now parts 1 - 4 ready to go.
‘The street’s no playground, kiddie, got that?’
The little boy looked with wide brown eyes at Gene. He was not scared, not even intimated as far as Gene could tell, no, the toddler had a mere quizzical look on his face, as if he was still trying to work out what had just happened - and if it was something good or something bad.
‘Don’t run off chasin’ a stupid ball on a busy street!’ Gene continued his lecture, his heart still racing like crazy and the blood rushing through his ears. It had been such a wonderful lazy spring day. The first nice day after weeks of rain. The temperature was finally warm enough to go out in a short-sleeved shirt. He’d been wandering through Manchester’s streets, looking for something to occupy himself with until it was time to get Stu and head home. In the end, he had settled on just lying in the grass, letting the sun warm his face, when suddenly a football had appeared out of nowhere, rolling towards one of Manchester’s main roads, with a two to three-year-old kid chasing after it, oblivious of the danger.
Had Gene been any slower that lad would be as flat as a sheet of paper. But, luckily, Gene was a fast runner; he was in fact the fastest 9-year-old in his school.
‘Now,’ Gene held onto the hand of the little boy, ‘where are your mum and dad?’ He checked for any concerned looking adults near by. Behind a hill a young blond woman appeared, her hands forming a funnel. She was shouting Sammy. The little boy started to pull, wanting to break loose, but Gene had a firm grip. ‘Mummy,’ the toddler said and jumped up and down, stretching out his skinny, little arm and pointing towards the woman.
‘Alright, alright,’ said Gene, ‘I see her.’
The woman had finally spotted her son and was now jogging down the hill, careful not to slip on the still wet grass. Gene looked at her closely. He noticed she was wearing really strange clothes. The woman’s blouse was bright yellow, and what Gene found most puzzling, she was wearing trousers, tight blue trousers, which were wide around the ankle. It looked just silly, like a clown’s costume almost. Little Sammy, whose clothes didn’t appear any less weird, was still pulling to break free. Then Gene remembered the ball. ‘Wait here,’ he said and ran across the street to pick up the ball. Gene held it in his hands and ran his fingers over the smooth leather surface. He spinned the ball around, admiring the good workmanship of the material, wishing he had a football like this. He was sure the woman would want to show her gratitude that he, Gene, had saved her son from being squashed by a speeding car. However, when his eyes caught sight of an emblem that was painted on the leather, Gene pulled a face. He read the yellow and red letters again then shoved the ball back into the toddler’s arms.
‘Here. Now go!’
Gene watched how Sammy ran towards his mum, giggling all the way. The sudden ringing of the church bells reminded Gene that it was time to pick up Stu at John-John’s house and he turned his back on the odd mother and son duo. Gene began running and thought he’d rather continue playing footie with old, rusty tin cans than with a ball that had a Man Utd emblem on it.