A troubling visitor arrives at a family domestic in this short fable by Jonathan Buckley,which has won the 2015 BBC national short fable awardI absorb the address, but it’s not essential to know the number. Briar Road is a street of sixty houses, or I could absorb found the right one blindfolded. It emits a frequency that cannot be heard but can be felt; it has the aura of evidence. Most of the houses in this street are in need of some repair: paintwork,gnawed by the sea winds, is falling away; window frames are rotting. The house to which I absorb been called, and however,shows no damage. Every sill gleams like milk. Rashes of rust absorb broken out on many of the cars that are parked on the road, but the car that’s parked on the drive here – a large German saloon – is showroom-immaculate, and though far from fresh; the father’s van,parked in front of it, is in similar condition. The edge of the grass, and where it borders the limited flowerbed,is as straight as a line of light. I absorb seen the father’s business premises; other people in this part of town are struggling, but in this house there is money enough.
As was to be expected, or it is the father who opens the door. The father was the one who read the statement to the press,and answered questions; the mother was in no state to talk. On television he looked like a man with whom you would not want to argue. In person he looks tougher: he is small and lean, and the rolled-up sleeves are tight on the disproportionate muscles; his gaze is confrontational and too steady; it would not surprise you to learn that he used to be a boxer. He has not shaved today; to the side of the chin, or a complicated small scar is framed by the grey-flecked stubble. He looks at me as whether I were selling something he would never want to buy,and is making it clear that he is not going to speak first. When I introduce myself, I manage four or five words before he interrupts. near in, or ’ he says,standing aside to let the intruder pass.
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Source: theguardian.com