Victory Street

By: JG Lowry

On one side of Victory Street was the factory, a low yellow brick building with a rolling door for cars and trucks, and a door for employees, painted green, the lamp over it protected by a metal shade, also painted green. The factory had no sign on it. On the other side, were the railroad tracks, separated from the street by a chain link fence. Once a day, an unpainted truck pulled up to the factory. On some days it sat on the street for an hour before the door rolled up. Sometimes, it pulled in immediately upon arrival. A car drove down the street, bouncing over the potholes. A man in a dark wool cap and a stained warm up suit pushed a shopping cart along the street, staying near the curb. A train went by, going very fast. People sat at the windows, none of them bothering to look at Victory Street or the factory. After the train passed, a yellow balloon drifted slowly over the chain link fence, a long string dangling from it. A gust of wind blew it into the door of the factory where it lodged over the transom. An elderly woman wearing a green turban came along walking a dog. The dog stopped to sniff at the door of the factory. Tim! she called impatiently. A man opened the door of the factory. He wore a blue work shirt and jeans that were almost white. His face was dark and craggy. He took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, put it into his mouth and lit it. He took a few, quick puffs, watching a bus with screens over the windows drive down Victory Street. After a final, long puff on his cigarette, he flipped it into the street and went back into the factory. It began to rain. The rain fell softly. The potholes filled with water. A blue car with dents in both front doors sped down the street splashing water out of the potholes. The sun came out, throwing a shadow like an arrow, half on the sidewalk, half on the side of the factory. An airplane that couldn’t be seen from the street droned overhead. The sky grew pink and Victory Street fell into shadow. The streetlights on different sides of the street flickered blue and bloomed into orange. The rolling door of the factory opened and the man who had been smoking drove out in a red pick-up truck. The door closed behind him. At the corner, the pick-up spun its wheels and ran the red light. Another train went by. A beer bottle flew from the window of a passing car. It didn’t break and spinning rapidly, hit the curb, coming to rest in a puddle. A deep shadow grew in the space between the streetlights. The lamp over the doorway of the factory made a spotlight on the sidewalk. The lights of a train appeared in the distance. The train took a long time to arrive at Victory Street, making a shrieking noise as it went by. People slept in the brightly lit windows, their heads resting against the glass. Heavy rain fell, stopping abruptly. The sidewalk glistened. There was a shout on another street, a loud metallic banging. Moths circled the streetlights. Two men came along. They were arguing. They stopped under a streetlight to better argue. One of the men shoved the other. The man who had been shoved began walking again. The other man waited before running after him. An ambulance passed at the corner, its lights flashing. A car drove down the street, zigzagging and stopping under one of the streetlights. A man got out. He was laughing. He pointed a gun at the streetlight, holding one hand to his wrist. He fired a shot. It missed. He got back into the car and a woman began laughing. The car pulled onto the sidewalk, stopping before hitting the streetlamp and rocking back and forth. The car backed onto the street and speeding down to the corner, ran the red light. There was the screeching of brakes; a car horn blared for a long time. People shouted. The metallic pounding started again and stopped. The balloon deflated and fell to the sidewalk in front of the factory. The sky turned gray. The streetlights went out and Victory Street appeared. A young woman came down the street. She had long black hair and carried a cloth bag. She stopped in front of the factory and, whirling around, swung the bag in the air, her skirt rising and showing her shapely legs and black stockings. She walked to the corner, singing softly, not looking at a man walking down the middle of the street. He wore a suit and tie. He lay down in the street, throwing out his arms and legs. He lay a long time, looking up once or twice. A panel truck came around the corner, braking sharply, and driving carefully around the man. He raised his head and called out after the truck. He got up, brushed off his suit and walked to the sidewalk where he stood looking up at the sky.