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 ^{(it's beta!)}

This is an example of what I was talking about. Some probably think these random spots are too short. Well I understand that, but I also understand that most people don't particularly want to read through a miniature novel. Anyway, in the last piece I thought of telling the story in 5 year time differences. Now this one might not be included because I wrote it just now after work whilst waiting for the site to come back up. So it's really not perfect, but it's going in the direction I want it to go.

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Marten looked up at his father in awe as he walked him down the crowded street. He clenched his Father’s hand tight, not wanting to get lost in the sea of strangers. Richard Walker looked down at his son, whose eyes were wide with amazement at the sights and sounds of the capital, and smiled knowingly. It was his first trip from their quiet country town and had never once seen anything so busy in his life. Marten’s gaze finally reached his Father’s own and he suddenly blushed.

“What’s so funny?” he asked embarrassed. His father started laughing.

“You. You look like you’ve just walked in to the girl’s locker room”.

It was Marten’s turn to laugh now, and in that moment he realised that this was one of the happier moments of his life.

“Now hurry up sport, we don’t want to miss the marching band, they’re the highlight of the whole parade”, Richard said before realising his son had seen very little of it due to his height and their constant traversing. Without even a word of warning, he gripped his son under his arms and hoisted him up onto his shoulders.

Marten’s eyes grew wide once more as he was greeted with a blast of colour and sound that he had never before experienced. Acrobats flipped down the street not metres away from him, girls in colourful clothing performed amazing tricks with sparkling hula hoops. Marten craned his neck up high to watch 4 men dressed in evening suits walk past on stilts. One of them caught his eye and tipped his hat in a respectful ‘hello’.

Then, in the distance, the sound of the marching band could finally be heard, and Richard tapped his son on the shoulder and pointed off down the road.

“Here they come, can’t you hear them?”

Marten strained his ears before finally hearing a burst of bright, joyful sound. Over the hill, past a series of awkwardly dressed clowns came the leader of the band, artfully twirling his baton and pumping his legs up and down with the beat of the song. Neither Marten nor his Father said a word as the band marched past, both of them now gazing at the vast array of musical instruments and the militarily precise marching bonding with the many sounds to form a beauty the likes of which they had never seen. As the marching band faded off into the distance, the crowd slowly began to thin out and Richard led his son towards the park nearby and they sat down on the grass. Marten looked up at his Father, sensing his change in mood.

Richard stared dreamily straight ahead, not acknowledging his son’s questioning glance. The last dregs of people began to leave, only Marten and his Father were left in the area, surrounded by the trash that the parade had left behind. Many minutes passed with this silence and a cool chill wafted through the park, causing the hair on the back of Marten’s neck to stand up. Finally his Father spoke.

“You had best treasure moments like this son…Because they’re not going to last forever. Soon you’ll be drifting from one painful day to the next…just like the rest of us.”

Marten didn’t understand much of what his Father was saying. But he understood that it was as much at him as it was to him. Marten said nothing, and merely cuddled up against his Father for warmth. Richard looked down at his son, nestled up against his shoulder…and frowned.