August and bahija prominent  gifted writers knew they had lost their edge as potential dynamic writers.
They cowered nervously underneath a flickering bus shelter light.
“It’s a pledge, August …, we are going to do this.
A year long odyssey.
We’ve survived so far.”
Splashes sprinkling and then mingle under multicoloured spot lights.
From both eerie street lights as well as ice tint car headlights.
“If we’re stuck there’s always the debit card, the loose change, cash  we have with us.”
August retorted to Bahija.
Two stoic writers had this hunger to get their hunger back.
Recent writings seemed to have too much gloss.
The effortlessly seamless drift between lines, chapters, verses of velvet allure, plots that were a tantalising  taunting tangle, mythic constructions….
“What was that?
Huge swathe of slurried mud ice nearly soaked both writers.”
They both looked at each other half joking but also half shuddering as they had survived a relative scorcher of a  summer together.
They had each other in warmth and romantic care.
But it could be extremely trying, a harsh acid test for those who might have lived in relative luxury.
Not palatial in any strict sense but even during the summer it was taxing for August and Bahija.
“Virtually 12 months on and this self-inflicted odyssey.”
Bahija just grasped a  currency bill as it nearly did a flutter in the gutter.
“We have given ourselves a template, a budget and managed to stay within it.”
“Cash for food and hand outs from food banks.
I’d say our diet was meagre and mustn’t  have much cash left.”
Bahija opined.
“Good on you, Bahija.
Very well caught.
You seemed to have  a knack for saving things don’t you?”
August observed.
A challenge of this kind can impress its own vivid landscape.
“Where haven’t we slept at night?
Even during the day.
It’s all beginning to total into a broader parchment.
Sleeping under bus shelters,
for example.
Just holding each other.
The hugs, kisses, waving off the clammy heat or horrid winds.
The aches of scarcity lodged in our skeletal frames.”
Bahija’s  infectious ripple of fun  whilst trying to ward off a fractured  twig which appeared out of nowhere.
“Do you see that moon drifting over the nearest peak which seems to have this veil of drizzle?
Wonder should we set up tent in an unearthly place like that?”
August seemed to be in several minds before hazarding a guess at his wonderful partner’s playful temperament.
And they always had the fallback strategy of the debit card, cash and even emergency phone calls to the trustworthy allies they could count on.
“Like it would be an oddball moment if we made this call in the middle of a borderline transition between seasons.”
Bahija chortled  into a rain soaked night their mirth captured by a passing black crow that added a sombre yet dry wit to this stoic couple.
“Oh I just have this idea for a couple on an excursion, an odyssey as bizarre as ours.
I call it Year Long Trek By Moonlight.
Temporary working title.
The Script I’ll give to you.
Think, August you are just a little less forgetful than I am where you put things.
Just a little bit.”
Bahija’s knowing smile.
She handed the script to an impish grinning August.
“Just think, over the last few months we have cowered  under trees in the weirdest places with little going for us.
Remember that cave like structure we toyed with.
A kind of narrow tunnel.
Shady plops of water, mildly sinister.
Occasionally hit our heads … nothing too severe against chandelier type rock forms.
Weird light that used to flit and flicker.
Yet lamb bleating in nearby field.”
Bahija again casting comic glances at the sojourns and side roads of these playful twists their dialogue was taking at every juncture.
Theirs was an alternating sequence of riddle tinged supernatural   scripts by day and night.
And of course another concession they made to an otherwise peculiar mystery filled journey.
The smartphones.
The charging of smartphones which was a chore but they used their charm to find willing charge points.
“Yes, the charge points and that cave.
Two contrasting settings yet side yarns in themselves.”
Bahija continued as they exchanging admiring glimpses at each other as confirmation of this uncanny marathon they had set  and the lanes, side lanes, unusual out of the way spots they travelled in towns, cities, villages.
Many’s the night they shuddered and shrinked under little better than rusty downpipe dens with jutting roofs as shelters.
Urban park benches where they’d doze on earth tone and sometimes pastel benches.
There was a last minute check before leaving just in case, well sometimes!

The soggy trees that whispered moonlight hints and tints, hues and clues about another universe to the otherwise supercharged pavement bustle of daylight delirium.
“Don’t forget the winding country shortcuts as well, byways, remote  tracks,
just the two of us, cuddles and capers, having gentle pokes and jibes at each other.
Wobbling around awkward stone channels, the dips and tangle briar craters.”
Bahija had her own sense of recall.
“Those wobbly marshy fields.
Spine tingle water trickles and gurgles.
Rural equivalent of contracting soundscapes.
Our debit card and other fancy payment methods the only fallback.
But the sheer thrill of switching backdrops between town and country.
I’d say this masochistic
high risk rejuvenation might be still worth it.
What the red blooded harsh elements can do for the creative juices!
To say nothing of deepening relationships.”
Bahija smiled  at August who concurred.
“Resting among the deers, stags, exotic bats, moisture laden slopes.
Haven’t we done that already?
Is my memory as water logged as the temporary halting spots we’ve elected to SLEEP in.
We have been deprived of SHUT EYE to use the colloquialism.
Moments under drifting milk tooth moon that swooned enthralling over our makeshift bamboo shoot and moroccan carpet.”
In relays they exchanged recollections.
“Well, I’m Bahija who is the recall unit of our literary chariot
We both hold the reins.
Yes the beach episode and spartan provisions.
You even did some bizarre late night casting for fish.
With the galaxy as guide.”
Joint laughter led them into sultry orange tan sunlight.
They hadn’t actually slept a wink for ages.
“Between moonlight hazy eyes, winter clad snow and street light whirl and swirl eyes, and the wet and wild sun tinged sight we have now acquired.”
August opines.
“It won’t be long now as we are entering the final phase of this zany trek.”

August now in full stream.
“What’s that rock jazz ballad we love?
“When will we ever sleep again?
We still haven’t collapsed  …!”
and then Bahija.
“As we are zigzagging in our review of those delightful spots, some gritty ones, with only elemental cover.
We didn’t succumb to our cash and card as backup for faint heartedness.”
As they sat on a hardwood bench it struck Bahija.
“Remember that person,
Penelope, begging on the  street .., she offered us assistance.
And the food she begged for.
We gave her a blanket and some left overs.
Penelope was gracious to us.
You and I were crooning in the pea soup fog maze.
Penelope said we had a familiar aura.
There was something about us.
She fixed a long distant peeping stare that was hard to shake off.”
August began to imbibe the sweat inducing conditions as the morning advanced.
“It must seem bizarre.
We are only beginning to earn a crust.
There’s an interesting phrase as writers.
Enough to quit our day jobs but by the skin of our teeth.
It has been a harrowing, obstacle ridden year long excursion.
With the keys to my house rattling somewhere in my bags.
Says August casually.
Bahija now chips in as the tangerine, orange peel vicissitudes of hues and shades jostle in the sky for the sky gazers among the town dwellers.
“As we might go for  a quick walk along the promenade. Soak in the …
Have this feeling that we are being shadowed.
Don’t know what it is.
Maybe as we drift through the noon.
Afternoon, along some beaches, strands, obscure paths spiralling back into town again.
Was that a … something dark and shadowy.
Whatever.”
Bahija pondered darkly.
“It’s true, Bahija. Tonight will be the completion of our year long sojourn.
Miserable and bone chilling breezy.”
And so after the agreed interlude the ink black dark night arrived armed with its frozen curbs and cold snap dank, drizzle curtains and suction cup
drains noises.
“August, look at this pitiless night.
It’s the finale of our perseverance.
We didn’t ever surrender to booking a room.”
August was confused yet amenable.
Bahija continued about something following them.
But her partner gave a nod and a lull ensued.
“Maybe because we didn’t give in to trappings of comfort for 364 days and nights we should.
There’s a nice bed and breakfast down the road.”
Bahija rummaged in her purse and then ……
“I don’t believe this, we’ve travelled for a year and we brought the wrong debit card.
It was 6 months out of date before the commencement.
The new card was left at home.
Embarrassing!”
August counters don’t we have cash remaining.
Silence!
“Foreign currency we forgot to convert.
All the other currency used on meals.”
August said.
“We can still walk home,
it’s just two miles.”
Bahija  asked for the key.
Her partner fumbled in his pockets.
Suddenly it spun out of control heading for a drain grid.
Bahija quickly spotted and stretched herself to just stop the key going down the drain.
“Oh you did it again … Bahija like last time.”
Laughter then crooning.
“Don’t we have a copy of the key, August.”
August appeared glum.
Then the key slipped from Bahija’s fingers…
It was this time almost certain to when..
Out of the shadow a lady emerged to save it.
“It’s you, the begging lady.”
August and Bahija perplexed at the cascade of events.
“Knew we’d meet again.
You looked familiar.
I have some money.
Do you need anything?”
A riot of amusement ensued.
The couple were noticed by passersby.
A queue for autographs began and were given.
“Why don’t you stay with us until we can find lodgings for you.”
August and partner suggests.
“Do you think you can walk 2 miles to our house?
That’s if the key isn’t lost again.”
Bahija clenching key intensely.
“They burst into the sleep ballad that sustained them as they walked home.
Would they ever sleep again the chorus soared.”
At that point some foreign currency was swept up into the air amid guffaws.
And the moonlight script that was overlooked earlier now soaking wet and forgotten on one of those elegant benches
in another area picked up by a street cleaner who glanced at it and tossed into his sack.
“Shall we do this trek again next year?
The three of us?”
Bahija pushes limits.
Uproarious laughter amid the strolling crooners as an answer wasn’t forthcoming!!!
“Do you have this feeling we are still missing something, Bahija?
Niggling feeling.”
August enquired
“Might have a fair idea, but our memory might be our saviour.
Let’s just keep our mind on getting that first sleep in a year.
Then we can all burst into song.
The only song right now and then !! “