Creative Writing: Five Years (Part 1)

James "Ziggy" Odam was not the sort of man you would pick to be the saviour of the world.  He was a scrawny, pale lad from Brixton with few friends, fewer living relatives, and almost no future prospects (at least, that's what his career counsellor said to him after failing all of his O-levels).  So currently, he was a bit of a drifter.  He had been wandering around, playing a gig here and there, while sleeping on the couches and spare floors of the people he met along the way.  And it was between one of these gigs and the next, passing through time with no thought beyond what he was going to have for lunch that day, is where we first meet our hero.

He had a bit of a rough start earlier in the morning.  He had been kicked out of Mary's bed - rather unceremoniously, in his opinion - after a fun night of fooling around and general antics.  Before he had a cup of coffee (or even properly woken up), she had been shoving him out the door, crying and shouting about how he never paid for the spare room he rented from her (he had been under the impression that he lived there because of her generosity rather than his pocketbook).  He couldn't even get a word in edgewise before she had slammed the door in his face.

Muttering under his breath, he had picked up his battered old twelve-string and his worn-out suitcase.  He had been booked at Aylesbury later that night, but between getting evicted and that evening he had nowhere to be.  Although he had plenty to do.  Despite what he had been told all of his life, James had a plan.  He was going to be the biggest musical sensation ever seen.  He and his friends knew they were destined for greatness, but no one reached great heights on an empty stomach.  So he decided to take care of his most immediate need: food.

His brain hurt like a warehouse, with no room to spare.  He had too much ambition on his mind and too little food in his stomach to make sense of why the market square was so crowded today.  He approached the nearest vendor for a bite to eat, but when he tried to find the attendant, he was annoyed to see that no one was there.  Undeterred, James moved from stall to stall before he realised all of them were empty.  Confused, he looked around.  Mothers were sighing, children were whining, and men were crying.  Something was terribly wrong.

James pushed his way past the weeping crowds to the street corner where an electronics shop displayed dozens of television screens in its window.  On every single one was a single message: FIVE YEARS THAT'S ALL WE'VE GOT.