Writing the Text (Part 3)

Below is the third version of the text that I have written so far. I have added the final story but I am still looking for a way to concluded the piece. I have looked at several stories and poems but have yet to find one that fits my piece. I will update my blog when I find a suitable conclusion. As with the previous post, I will only show the new segment so that this post is not overly long:

“The first journey that I can remember took us across an enormous cliffside. Peering over the edge, it felt like I was hundreds of thousands of metres from the water. I picked up a coarse, shrill rock that fit perfectly into my palm and hurled into the ocean and then I waited… splash. A tiny sound echoed from the sea, it was lost in the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff- a battle that is as old as time.

My dad had already become distracted by his goal, a Martello tower that was perched on the edge of the cliff we had been walking along. In his words:

 

DAD (in a gruff voice): It was strategically placed here, with another Martello on the opposite side, so that any ships coming in to dock would be pincered by gunfire.

 

Whenever my dad talked like this, my brothers tended to mock him, comparing him to Uncle Albert from Only Fools and Horses.

 

BROTHERS (imitating Dad’s voice): During the war…

 

My dad started to pick up the pace, marching swiftly towards his objective whilst my brothers and I lagged behind. I remember my dad telling them to keep an eye on me.

 

DAD (in a gruff voice): Keep an eye on Joseph.

 

A sensible decision considering I was only 5 at the time, and that he was otherwise distracted. By now, my dad had gotten so far ahead that my brothers had stopped bothering to follow. They just started to walk wherever. Now I’m not sure what inspired me to do this: maybe I was looking for Dad, maybe I was just eager to explore, but I decided to wander off on my own. My brothers hadn’t been keeping an eye on me so they weren’t there to stop me from leaving. Of course, as a 5-year-old the most fascinating aspect of a cliffside is the sheer drop. So I headed directly toward the edge.

I creeped closer and closer to the drop. I could feel the light spray of the water brush across my face as the waves hurtled towards the cliff. By now, my brothers had realised that I was no longer walking with them and thought of the trouble they would be in if I wasn’t with them when my dad got back. So they started to shout for me:

 

BROTHERS: Joseph! Jooseph!

 

I was too far away to hear them and my dad was miles away, presumably thinking one thing:

 

DAD (in a gruff voice): Martellos, Martellos, Martellos.

 

As I edged nearer and nearer to the drop, my brothers became increasingly panicked.

 

BROTHERS: Jooooseph! Jooooooseph!

 

Then, out of nowhere, a German family appeared. I can’t remember exactly what they said to me, but I remember feeling scared- after all school had always taught me never to trust strangers. So I began to walk with them, in search of my brothers and my dad, obviously my brothers would want me to find them first. Eventually, we came within earshot of their cries.

 

BROTHERS: Joooseph! Joooooseph!

 

To which one the German men replied:

 

German Tourist (in German accent): Don’t worry, Joseph is with us!

 

At some point in our conversation I must have told them my name. Of course, my brothers were hugely relieved that they wouldn’t have to tell my dad about this- well at least not straight away, they would wait until it could be looked back on as a funny mishap.

It’s funny, these moments in my life that, at the time, were worrying and alarming are some of my fondest memories. I could tell you all about the dangerous walks that I’ve embarked on, everything that’s gone wrong and every time I’ve been hurt. But I couldn’t tell you about that one ice cream I had, it’s flavour, where I was, who I was with.”

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Giggs, J. (2015) Menorcan Cliffs. Unpublished Photograph.

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