One Night in Hell

Sep 1, 2002 - © Bernd Wechner

It has four bedrooms, one small kitchen, and no living room all connected by a squarish entry hall/chamber. The bedroom doors are uniformly closed, hiding behind them three rather private lives. I took a shower, most welcome after two days camping out without a decent wash in the sweaty summer nights and washed my clothes, which I hung out to dry in the hall hoping they'd be done by morning.

Mark, the most social and affable of Rob's flatmates, whom I'd grown quite fond of on my last visit, appeared from his private quarters. He was a travelling soul as well, with an inter-continental, inter-cultural relationship not unlike myself, and while busy much of the time working in his room (a freelance artist producing monographed paintings on postcards) he enjoyed a good talk about life and people as much as I.

As Rob’s hour turned to two and Rob still hadn't rung, Mark confessed how unreliable he'd found people to be over the years. He was quite disillusioned with them, quite a contrast to my own naive optimism.

He recounted the funniest (and most auspicious as it turned out) tale of a visit to a friend of his. This friend looked a lot like Rob from the telling and I had to laugh. Mark's friend had a single bedroom and a tiny kitchen, and he'd invited Mark to visit. They went out for a few beers with mutual friends. As it got late some of them opted to visit a nightclub and others to retire. Mark was among the latter and his friend was sitting on the fence, deciding in the end to retire as well. Walking home he was struck, as by lightning, with a turnaround decision - he would in fact go out clubbing with his mates. He thrust the keys into Mark's hands and told Mark to make himself comfortable.

On arriving, Mark discovered that the door from the kitchen (which served as an entry as well) to the bedroom was locked and that he didn't have a key for it. The kitchen had as much floor space as your average coffin, and as much dust as the rather more spacious crypt you'd expect to find one in. Mark's things were all in the bedroom!

He tried without success to pick the lock, and with grim disconcert settled to face the inevitable, the dusty kitchen floor until his friend

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