Friday, 4 March 2016

The Very short life of Huw Evans

For audio click here 
“Huw,” Huw said. “Huw,” he repeated, trying to get his tongue to make it sound natural. “Huw Evans, please to meet you.” It didn't sound right but it had to; he had no choice now. It was who he was, who he’d become. He opened his case and started unpacking, putting his things in amongst the stuff that was already here. The flat was small and cold and had a musty smell that Huw didn't like at all. The heating was on, but the warmth seemed to disappear through the walls. But it was okay, considering. It wasn’t quite what he was used to but it had everything he needed.

“Huw Evans,” he said again, trying to make it taste right. “Mr Evans.”
He stared out of the window onto the little square below, not a bad view.
Snowflakes swirled in the breeze showing no intention of landing let alone settling. The sun shone from a blue sky blotched by black monsters that threatened a take over. People hurried to and fro, not willing to stand still for fear of freezing to the spot; even those waiting for a bus kept moving, kept blood running to the extremities.
The doorbell rang. Huw froze and listened while still watching the snow dancing on the wind. It rang again. Huw walked slowly towards the front door; the bell rang for a third time. He looked through the spy hole. The distorted figure the other side of the door smiled. Huw carefully opened the door making sure not to stand right in front.
“Hi, couldn't help notice you have just moved in, I'm Mrs John from downstairs. Thought I would welcome you to the building.”
“Thank you” Huw said, and tried to close the door.
“And you are?”
“Oh yes sorry, where’s my manners?” He paused, nervous to use his new name for the first time.
“Evans, Huw Evans.”
“Well I am sure you will be very comfortable here and you don't look the sort to play loud music and stomp around like the last lot.”
“I'll try not to,” Huw said realising this was a nice British way of being told to behave. He thanked Mrs John for popping by and closed the door.
His hands felt dry; everything was so dusty. He went into the bathroom to wash them. What was this, two taps? One hot, one cold? How did that work? The hot ran water far too hot to put his hands under, but the cod was bloody freezing. He was just drying his hands when the doorbell rang again. Once again he froze and listened. Once again he walked slowly through the flat and checked the spy hole. Once again he saw Mrs John standing there smiling. He opened the door.
“Mrs John? Hello again.” He said.
“I forgot to give you this dear.” The little old lady said.
Huw saw the look in Mrs John's eyes and immediately knew who she was, what she was. He’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.  But he didn't have time to react.
As the bullet ripped through his skin Huw Evans's only thought was -
I only got to use my new name once. 

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