The Four Keiths

Keith 4

The rain thundered against the palm fronds Keith had erected as a cover over his balcony. Every evening when he got home from the plant he followed the same routine: he made a large daiquiri and watched the pelicans grab frogs and fishes from the Pomona swamp. Some people hated the swamp, complained it smelled, but Keith loved the rich warmth of it. To him the swamp, which had been dug out to absorb the tropical rains, represented Manchester’s ability to adapt as much as his job at the rum distillery did.

But nothing could stop the march of nature. Tonight his routine ended, his home would be pulled down tomorrow. Manchester had been built on a swamp and now an angry Mother Nature was reclaiming her own. Keith glanced towards the ragged shards of glass, all that remained of the Beetham Tower which had collapsed into Deansgate the last week, before returning his gaze just in time to see an alligator snatch one of the pelicans and drag it down into the murk.

Keith 2

The whistle from the steam-tug startled the docker and caused him to mistime his swing. Instead of digging into the sack full of cotton his hook caught itself on his clothes tearing a deep gash into his waistcoat. The missus was going to kill him.

Popping his hook back into his belt Keith checked to see just how bad the tear was. His hand touched something wet and warm and he fell a dull ache in his flank. The sky started to turn black.

Keith 1

The rawhide tunic itched. The thousands of midges rising from the marsh itched. But Keith dared not scratch or swat away the flies lest he scare away the deer he had been tracking for days, and which now stood just a spears throw away. That was his family’s dinner, and a more damned tasty than the roots they had been living on for the last few days.

He had been here once before. When he was a boy he had come this way with his father and back then it had all been ice, even at the height of summer. There was no ice here anymore. The deer had chased the ice away as they moved north.

Keith 3

Another day working in the call centre in Salford Quays beckoned. As the tram left an almost abandoned Pomona station Keith spotted a man taking a dump in a bush.