Harry Bone (aka Boner, Bonio or Bone Dog) usually replies, if asked, that he was born on April the 1st 1960, which would make him 56 years old. He looks much older. His weight is 147 pounds and his height is five foot seven inches. What hair he has would be the colour of new steel if he were to ever wash it and, aside from what is hidden under a Benny Hat, hangs in greasy clumps about his heavily bearded face. He had never needed glasses, his vision being miraculously 20/20. He has a pronounced stoop and walks with a slight limp. His face is kindly when he feels that way inclined, but can turn an alarming shade of purple when provoked, which is not often. His single set of clothes gives the appearance of having been dipped in cooking fat and give off a stench that makes him uncomfortable to be around.
He claims not to remember having any family, but deep in his pocket is a laminated wallet containing two photographs – one of a pretty girl child of around twelve years of age and the other showing a pouting boy of about seven.
He does not have an address. He is a schnorrer who sleeps, at the moment, on the steps of a disused museum on a back street near a city centre in the north of England along with several other people in that line of ‘work’. He began this kind of life after joining a community for backpackers and gap year travellers. The tutors did not miss his outspoken voice when he did not return to finish his degree in Creative Writing. He has not worked, since a three-day spell doing a paper-round when he was fifteen in his hometown of Alderley Edge near Manchester. He has lived in just about every major town in England and a good many in Wales.
His hobbies are getting drunk, imbibing soft drugs, talking about nothing in particular and people watching. He passed all nine O-Level and then A-Levels in English, Art and History with consummate ease, but has never felt inclined to continue his education beyond his abortive attempt at a degree.
Favourite foods are chicken and pizza but he has never been particular about food. Whatever people leave behind in garbage bins has suited his purpose for many years. He listens to whatever the buskers play as he sits in his latest city centre doorway, but aside from that, he does not seek out music. He once had a dog but gave it away when it gave him a nasty nip on his hand after he forgot to feed it for several days. He sometimes jokes that this was the dog that bit that hand that did not feed, but aside from that has never thought of the animal again.
He has never owned any form of transport and has used his feet exclusively to get about since he was nineteen.
He has a problem with the kinds of things people say to him, particularly ‘get a job’. He tried to get over the irrational irritation he feels from these comments, but not to the extent that he would change his lifestyle. He also has a problem with his health and exhibits various symptoms of liver disease including itching, fatigue and swollen ankles.
He has a recurring dream of his mother that wakes him up crying. He is seven and is sitting in the back garden of his house where he has been running around. His mother is scolding him for ripping open the knee of his new trousers, whilst ignoring the blood pouring from a wound in his knee. As a teenager, he had a girl by the name of Sue who used to kiss him whilst walking with him for hours at a time over the fields close by his house. She would never let him touch her anywhere but on her lips. He never even held her hand.
He has known many people to die in his presence, it being an occupational hazard of his lifestyle and the company he keeps, but he has never been to any of their funerals. He does not connect with people easily. His greatest enemy was ever himself, and as for his greatest ally – he has never trusted anyone enough to care for that kind of thing.
His secrets include the photographs in his pocket, the reason he never went back to the university, which he keeps buried deep in his mind, and a desire to set himself on fire in front of Buckingham Palace. Every time it comes close enough to winter for his fingers to lose feeling, he tells himself that this is the year, but something has always kept him back, so far. He believes in the concept of free, the right to step outside of society, and in love. Not love of people, but a love of the open road.
His greatest ability is that of being able to bring to mind everyone he ever met, which is strange considering that he never cared for any one of them. As he sits in his doorway, he amuses himself by sorting the people in his mind alphabetically by their first name, or by the type of face, or by height etc. He wanders through these memories like someone else might walk through an art gallery. His greatest flaw is that he does not believe that he has any flaws. He would like to be a little more healthy but sees his pains as being the necessary price for freedom. Aside from that, he would change nothing about his life.
Four words that describe Harry’s character are obdurate, free-thinking, intelligent and sanguine. He is afraid of dreaming about his mother, working, eating apples (because they hurt his teeth) and the thought of his mind being subverted by reading the wrong kind of book. Things that make him laugh are marijuana, the shape of bananas, small children and leaving a city. He is provoked to anger by rude comments from passers-by, challenges to his right to be in a place, being woken from a sound sleep by the need to urinate and garbage collectors who arrive moments before he has had a chance to sift through the rubbish. He is ashamed of feeling too tired to walk, thinking about the girl he once kissed, his anger and the state of mind of people who cannot find a way out of the system despite their unhappiness within it. Tender is not something he feels easily, but the closest he comes is the slight lump he gets in his throat when starting along a road that stretches far into the distance.
Three places he has spent time in are his room as a young boy, the fields around his house as a teenager and the green spaces of his mind. He spent many days in his room as a result of his parents punishing him. The door was locked from the outside and the window secured by a professionally installed padlock. His parents found him to be naughty and disobedient and quickly learned that he was most hurt by being locked away. They found this to be an easier way to control his high energy and wanderlust than sticking him in front of a TV. They randomly selected books from the library and left them in his room. He seldom read them. The fields around his house were extensive and a pure delight for him. Even aside from walking with Sue, he would spend many hours walking as a teenager, often missing meals and returning home after dark. His mind has always been an escape from boredom and is his preferred refuge in times of pain and darkness.
Well done. I’m now waiting to see what he will get up to. Will he be scaring Daisy or will he be nice? Let’s hope she doesn’t tell him to get a job…
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I’m kind of struggling to connect these characters because there are not so many opportunities for them to interact. Their lives would not normally intersect at all, nor would they normally care for each other’s fate, I think. It’s going to take something very extreme; catastrophic even, to throw them together in such a way that they will have any sort of meaningful connection. Or maybe we’re looking at separate threads here that weave in an out until they reach a point of join at the end of the story. Or maybe they have a shared acquaintance or family member – like he is the long lost brother of her grandmother, who she (the grandma) recognises on a trip to see Daisy. Hmm – maybe not enough drama in that.
I can feel my mind chewing away at this problem, even through the night. It was in my thoughts as I slept and as I woke. Something will come up. 🙂 Anyways – how are you, Victoria?
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Because I’m American, when you said “something very extreme,” I immediately thought -shooting!- and maybe he helps her take shelter in the building he sleeps next to. Anyway…I’m sure you’ll come up with something good. 🙂
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I thought we were going to try to move away from all the shooting, killing and death! 🙂 But yes, that’s a fine idea. But wait until you see what I came up with – I stepped out of the box and then burned it. (Well, not really – but at least no-one is harmed in the making of this story. 😉
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Oh yeah, I forgot. So you’re keeping them alive? I’ll check it out when I can.
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Trying to keep as many alive as I can – so long as feelings don’t overwhelm me. 🙂
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Well, I just read your plans and I am thinking there are lots of feelings involved in suddenly becoming 30 years older and male (and vice versa). But they’re more the “wtf?!” feelings and not the mushy feelings. You should be ok. 😛
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Ah, good – I can do wtf feelings. 😀 Just think about his experience, though – suddenly having access to a 15 old hot chick’s body. I might have to play down the sexual complications of that scenario. 🙂
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Yeah, that could get kind of iffy. And imagine her- the body she has access too is dirty and smelly…ick. 😦 (the story I read was erotica (surprise? lol) and there was a lot of that…it was very satisfying.)
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What’s that? Lots of smelly and ick? 😀
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Well he doesn’t bathe…
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Well, erm … ahem, that sounds … Interesting? 🙂
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wait, are you talking about what I read? No, what I read had a very satisfying masturbation scene which because of the switch was really a very different kind of thing. It was extremely nice for me…
Your guy is icky and smelly. She will have to bathe him before she plays with him/herself.
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I’m not at all sure what I’m talking about anymore. But there’ll be none of that in this story. 🙂
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I love these two character sketches. (And hello =) its been a while) In my head I’m thinking about all the ways you could make them meet and how they’d interact. I look forward to finding out when you figure it out
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Hi Alina!! How you doing? 🙂
Like you, I’ve been thinking constantly about how these very different characters could come together. It’s a tricky one, because they wouldn’t normally interact at all, not even if they were the last man and woman alive. This was one option I came up with at about 8.30 this morning, but then I came up with an even better idea, which I think you’ll love! I’ll write it up in this evening’s post – watch this space. 🙂
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I’ve been well, distracted but enjoying it. and yourself? I look forward to seeing what you’ve come up with. Sometimes the most unlikely people do meet and the how is the best bit.
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That’s very true – very often something magical appears from the most ordinary of circumstances. And talking of magical – we’re off to see the latest ‘Harry Potter’ movie this weekend – you in?
Life is going good. What work do you feel like doing when you ‘grow up’ (totally joking)? 🙂
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I actually just got back from seeing it! Won’t say much because I detest spoilers of any sort with a passion unless invited, but it was good fun.
I hopefully will never grow up too much, but also have no idea what I hope to do.
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Good to know that it was good fun. Your life is going to be good fun too – I can tell. 🙂
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