Academic journal article Hecate

Braecity

Academic journal article Hecate

Braecity

Article excerpt

It was an atmosphere, a mood.

Each Sunday our mother would take us for a drive in the family car. It was usually around 5 pm, when the boredom of a weekend in a small country town became intolerable.

We drove to the edge of town. There were two main roads running parallel and connected by a dirt track about three miles long. We completed this circuit slowly; drove past deserted high school buildings; passed wheat silos, and trucks showering a recent harvest: magnificent expanse of blue sky against yellow wheat. When we passed the local abattoirs the scenery abruptly changed. There was a sharp turn and we drove down the dirt track.

It could have been some derelict moon-city set in the distant future. We called it Brae City. It was a collection of neglected houses, shells of abandoned cars, miscellaneous junk cluttered into one small area.

Flat land. The sun just about to set.

I saw girls older than me standing in the doorways of those houses. I imagined them inside. Despite the harsh and persistent sun, they were pale; it was a pallor that, even at that age, I associated with some sort of obscure sexual guilt.

I was twelve years old and a bit strange. …

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