Bill proceeded to spend his night after work turning the empty table and empty chairs in his crowded dining room into something spectacular.
It was nine o’clock at night when Bill opened his front door, took off his coat and hung it on the coat hanger. Bill entered his kitchen, and opened the refrigerator answering the call of his empty stomach. He took out a loaf of bread and a container of butter. He closed his refrigerator and turned his head to his dining table.
If the people of his neighbourhood were silent for once and listened carefully, they would have heard the soft sound of the loaf of bread as it dropped to the ground and the clang of the container of butter as it also hit the ground. Anyone who was listening would hear that the bread dropped first, ever so slightly. However, no one had heard because Bill’s neighbourhood was a noisy one. He lived on a street, where the one-story houses were all cramped up one against another. Anyone who came across this neighbourhood would see the different coloured houses ranging from violet brick homes to Bill’s own red brick home. Bill loved the colour red. The red throughout his home helped Bill control his breathing. Bill often found it hard to breathe because there was no empty space.
It came to be that Bill dropped his bread and butter, for his dining table was empty. The chairs were empty. The table was empty. Bill tilted his head, a peculiar look on his face. He thought the table had been crowded with objects when he’d left the house in the morning. He must’ve been wrong.
Bill sighed and headed back to his refrigerator. He opened it and collected a bottle of beer and a block of chocolate. He headed over to his dining table to alleviate its bareness but clang- tripped over the loaf of bread and container of butter. If his neighbours were quiet they would have heard the clang of the beer as it hit the carpet, bursting open and soaking the red carpets strewn across the dining room. Bill had forgotten he’d dropped the bread and butter. He needed to be more careful next time.
Bill sighed and decided that placing food on the table was too difficult of a task. Instead, he headed to the pantry to collect some covers to place over the empty dining table. He wanted the table to look nice if ever anyone came over. Not that they did or ever would. His neighbourhood was too busy being noisy to join him in the silence of his home. Bill opened the pantry and looked at the choices before him. What colour did he want? Bill chose red to take his mind off the soaked red carpet that the table was on top of. Bill closed the pantry with the red covers bundled up in his arms. As he turned part of the cover fell to the ground and Bill accidentally stepped forward, his foot stuck in the cover and rip went the red table cover as he fell onto the soaked red carpet beneath.
He rubbed his fingers against the carpet. He could feel the wetness upon his fingers and could feel the rough prickly surface of his carpet. He could smell the pungent smell of the beer. He could almost taste the beer soaked into the carpet, his face against the ruined carpet, upon which the ruined table cover and abandoned food also lay. If his neighbourhood were quiet, they would have heard the loud rip of fabric, and the bang as Bill once again collided with the floor. Only he was too aware of falling this time round.
Bill sighed. He got up, dusted himself off and surveyed his surroundings. Abandoned food lay on the ground, ripped red table covers too (mind you they were his favourite) and beer was soaked into his favourite red carpet. What really irked Bill though, were the empty table and the empty chairs.
Something must be done about it, he thought. Bill decided he would collect some cushions for the chairs, so that if anyone ever visited him their bottom would be comfy. Not that anyone ever visited him. His neighbourhood was too noisy for anyone to ever take solace in the silence of his home. Bill went to his other pantry which was directly behind the empty dining table. He opened it and surveyed the choices before him. This time he decided to go with red cushions, but with a floral pattern. The red cushions were decorated with roses that were so red you couldn’t see them, because the entire cushion was basically red. The completely red cushions would make up for the ripped red table covers and the soaked red carpet.
Just as Bill was about to place the red cushions onto the empty chairs, he realised that there were no cushions for his couch. He couldn’t remember why, but the couch took precedence. So Bill took the red cushions into his living room and put them in place upon his red couch. The living room was Bill’s favourite room. It was completely red except for the black television screen. Bill enjoyed watching gory films on television with the red of the room emphasising the blood upon the screen. For once, when Bill would watch films the noise of his neighbourhood would actually help to heighten the sound from the film, making the experience all the more better.
Bill sighed, wishing people would come and watch films with him rather than make so much noise outside. Bill couldn’t think. He headed back to the kitchen and the dining room. He sighed extremely loudly realising that there was still the matter of the empty table and empty chairs. Bill grew frustrated. He decided to finally fix the matter by placing a candle upon a stick onto the table. That way if anyone ever visited his home they would be met with a romantic evening. Not that anyone in his neighbourhood ever wanted that type of silence.
Bill headed to the pantry, cautiously stepping around the food and table covers, his feet soaking wet from the beer still seeping through his favourite red carpet. His feet smelled of beer. Bill grabbed the candlestick with the white candle from the pantry and carefully made his way to the dining table. Before he placed the stick on the table he quickly dashed back to the kitchen to grab a matchstick. Bill lit the candle with the matchstick from the top drawer of the kitchen. He had to waste three matchsticks to get it lit. The matchsticks that he used he let drop to the floor. This time he didn’t hear the sound it made as it dropped to the floor. Probably because of how noisy his neighbourhood was, as usual.
Once the candle was lit, Bill headed to the dining table. He was cautious of the mess around him. He didn’t want to risk tripping so he bent down to put all the food and the table covers away. As he first grabbed the container of butter and rose with the candle in his other hand, he lost his balance.
Bill wobbled to the left and Bill wobbled to the right.
If the neighbourhood had been quiet they would have heard Bill sigh the loudest sigh anyone could ever sigh, and they would have heard the sound of the candle hitting the carpet with a clang, erupting the room into flames with a big whoosh. The flame of the candle caught fire on the beer soaked in the carpet, and continued as it ate its way through Bill’s favourite ripped, red table cover. Bill could only watch as the room and his home around him melted from his vision. It all turned into a blazing ball of red. If only Bill had someone over. They would have stopped him from all this foolishness. Bill coughed as the smoke suffocated him and as his body was licked by the flames.
Bill sighed. Bill sighed until he could sigh no more.
Bill’s neighbourhood was a loud one. Bill’s neighbourhood continued to be loud, long after Bill had left the neighbourhood. People would walk by the ruins of his home that were never rebuilt. People would talk, and merely glance at what had once been a tall one-story home with red bricks, now reduced to nothing. People would talk as they walked by the home. Only a few people would pay close enough attention to the home in ruins, to see all that was left of it. Those people would sigh whilst the others talked and talked.
Those few people would see what Bill saw in his last moments of life.
They would see the empty chairs and empty table.