The square was filled with tables, laid out in straggly rows, and loaded with all manner of things, from bowls stacked three apiece to sacks full to brimming with smooth shelled nuts. Where there wasn't a table, stuff was simply spread on the ground instead, filling every available space that wasn't needed for the passage of people. Irena wandered in and out of the tables, unnoticed. She saw fragrant-scented, pale yellow apples laid out in trays, fluttering song birds caught in thin woven baskets, and bite-sized, fragile looking fruits the colour of a bruise. She remembered they tasted grainy, but sweet, and picked one up as she walked past. Juice ran down her chin as she bit into it, and she wiped it away with the heel of her hand.
Friday, 4 April 2014
Saturday, 25 January 2014
[North fragment] sleeping
Asa was snoring in the bottom bunk. Berit burrowed her head under the blanket. It was scratchy, but warm.
'Ugh, Ber....stop hogging the cover...' her elder sister Frith pulled the top blanket away and wrapped herself up in it.
Shivering, Berit aimed a kick at her sister. A howl came from the other end of the bed and someone tugged hard on Berit's foot. Inge's face hovered above Berit.
'What did you do that for!'
Berit made a face and pushed her back to the end of the bed. Below, Asa continued to snore. Inge bounced up and down on Berit's legs. 'I wasn't doing anything and you kicked me for nothing and then you pushed me...'
Sighing, Berit felt for the edge of the bed. Her hand batted at the smooth wood and then fell away into space. Pulling her legs out of the reach of Inge, she slowly lowered herself over the side, feeling with her bare feet for the wooden floorboards.
Inge stopped bouncing, ' Where are you going?'
'To get some peace.'
Curling her toes against the cold, she pulled away the rough sacking that covered the lower bunk. Asa lay on his back, mouth open, and Erdan was bunched up at the other end of the bed, fast asleep, his dark hair falling over his eyes. Berit reached out and pinched the fleshy part of Asa's nose between her finger and thumb.
'One, two, three....' she counted under her breath. On the fourth count, Asa's eyes opened and he let out a gasp of air. Berit smiled and drew her hand away. His eyes flickered shut again, and his breathing became clearer.
'Oh thank the ancestors for that...' Frith drawled from the darkness, as Berit swung herself back up onto the bed. She took the under blanket as a peace offering from Frith, and Inge burrowed into a nest of her own making at the other end of the bed.
Saturday, 11 January 2014
[North 6] the princess explores the gardens
'Just stay still...' She wasn't sure herself quite why she wanted the bird, only that it was something alive, and undemanding. Underneath the soft feathers it felt tough and wiry, but also fragile - as though if she held too tightly it would break. She loosened her grip, and the chicken, sensing weakness, tried to flap away. She curved her arm around it, feeling the brush of feathers against her wrist, and the comforting warmth from its body through her coat.
Saturday, 26 October 2013
[North 4] the princess makes a decision
Gagging, she took the foul-tasting cloth from her mouth, and dropped it to the floor. Her fumbling hands told her there was no way to open the door from the inside. She stamped her foot and called out in a shrill little voice that the woman would be sorry for daring to lay hands on her in such a manner, but no one replied. She hammered on the rough inside of the door with her hands until her wrists ached, and she slumped to the stone floor, angry at herself for the sobs that she was choking back. Princesses did not cry. Nurse had been very strict about that. Excess emotion was unbecoming in young ladies, and unforgivable in royalty. What nurse would think about her behaviour this morning didn't bear thinking about. She gave a whimper. Her stomach hurt and her head felt funny. She wished she had some food. She'd give anything to have her breakfast in front of her right now. Even cold porridge seemed appealing, although given the way she was feeling now, her manners might not be all that nurse would wish of a princess.
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
childhood redraft
Once summers stretched long
and hot beaches became deserts.
Woods were wild,
dangerous places.
We sat barefoot on branches.
Trees were for climbing,
caves to be explored.
Our dens were everywhere,
hidden.
Time hung,
high and distant
above our heads.
Our imaginary spaces faded
leaving only echoes
in the trees and empty caves.
Woods were wild,
dangerous places.
We sat barefoot on branches.
Trees were for climbing,
caves to be explored.
Our dens were everywhere,
hidden.
Time hung,
high and distant
above our heads.
Our imaginary spaces faded
leaving only echoes
in the trees and empty caves.
Thursday, 13 June 2013
[brats] the girl
[This is just a snippet I wrote trying to get a feel for the world. It won't occur in the actual story, but something like it might.]
The girl held her satchel upside down and shook it. Pencil stubs and coloured beads added to the mess on the rug. A penny rolled away in a slow curve on the uneven floor. Her last reading book, caught by the shoulder strap, landed open, pages flapping in the breeze from the broken window. The girl thought of birds taking off from a rooftop at the end of summer. She had never been so aware of noise before.
Holding her breath, she tiptoed past the room where her parents lay. The door was half open, and she could just see her little sister's hand peeking out from under the covers. Mim slept on a mattress on the floor of their parents' room, beneath the window, so she could see the stars at night; the stars that were brighter than ever since the street lamps stopped working.
But Mim didn't move, and the girl went into the kitchen. She took the last three apples from the bowl on the table, the tin of apricots from the shelf, and found a bag of rice that pulled her shoulder down with the weight of it in the satchel. She took the rice out and sat it on the table.
'Where's a knife...'
A knife was found at the back of a drawer. She slit the bag open, and a few grains spilled out through the sides. Cupping her hand, she scooped the contents out and into the satchel. She did this until half the bag was gone, enjoying the feel of her fingers against the silky-slippery rice.
An alarm clock made her jump, and the last handful scattered across the table and the tiles. She looked over her shoulder into the hall. Still ringing. A few grains of rice were stuck to her hand but she brushed them away against her jumper.
The ringing was louder in the hall. She put all her weight against the bedroom door to push it open, and caught her foot on Mim's mattress.
'Sorry...'
She could barely hear her own voice over the noise of the alarm clock. It was coming from the corner of the room. Picking her way through the mess, she clambered awkwardly onto the edge of the bed and swung her legs over to the other side.
'Sorry...' she whispered to her parents, 'So sorry...'
She shuffled over to the corner and picked the alarm clock up, knocking the lever with her finger. It stopped. Her breathing was the loudest thing in the house. She dropped the clock. It whirred briefly and then stopped with a metallic clunk. The girl stood in the middle of it all, listening to the sound of her breath going in and out and in. The birds outside began to sing as the light crept slowly over the sky.
On her way out through the kitchen she paused. The knife lay on the table where she'd left it. She picked it up, feeling the weight of it as if for the first time. It felt odd. She gripped the handle, and her wrist shook.
She put it in the bag and shut the door behind her.
The girl held her satchel upside down and shook it. Pencil stubs and coloured beads added to the mess on the rug. A penny rolled away in a slow curve on the uneven floor. Her last reading book, caught by the shoulder strap, landed open, pages flapping in the breeze from the broken window. The girl thought of birds taking off from a rooftop at the end of summer. She had never been so aware of noise before.
Holding her breath, she tiptoed past the room where her parents lay. The door was half open, and she could just see her little sister's hand peeking out from under the covers. Mim slept on a mattress on the floor of their parents' room, beneath the window, so she could see the stars at night; the stars that were brighter than ever since the street lamps stopped working.
But Mim didn't move, and the girl went into the kitchen. She took the last three apples from the bowl on the table, the tin of apricots from the shelf, and found a bag of rice that pulled her shoulder down with the weight of it in the satchel. She took the rice out and sat it on the table.
'Where's a knife...'
A knife was found at the back of a drawer. She slit the bag open, and a few grains spilled out through the sides. Cupping her hand, she scooped the contents out and into the satchel. She did this until half the bag was gone, enjoying the feel of her fingers against the silky-slippery rice.
An alarm clock made her jump, and the last handful scattered across the table and the tiles. She looked over her shoulder into the hall. Still ringing. A few grains of rice were stuck to her hand but she brushed them away against her jumper.
The ringing was louder in the hall. She put all her weight against the bedroom door to push it open, and caught her foot on Mim's mattress.
'Sorry...'
She could barely hear her own voice over the noise of the alarm clock. It was coming from the corner of the room. Picking her way through the mess, she clambered awkwardly onto the edge of the bed and swung her legs over to the other side.
'Sorry...' she whispered to her parents, 'So sorry...'
She shuffled over to the corner and picked the alarm clock up, knocking the lever with her finger. It stopped. Her breathing was the loudest thing in the house. She dropped the clock. It whirred briefly and then stopped with a metallic clunk. The girl stood in the middle of it all, listening to the sound of her breath going in and out and in. The birds outside began to sing as the light crept slowly over the sky.
On her way out through the kitchen she paused. The knife lay on the table where she'd left it. She picked it up, feeling the weight of it as if for the first time. It felt odd. She gripped the handle, and her wrist shook.
She put it in the bag and shut the door behind her.
Saturday, 4 May 2013
the birdscarer
Like David
I found my weapons on the battlefield,
repelling the invaders of our golden hoard.
They swarmed, and clamouring,
massed for the attack.
Out of nowhere appeared a single form:
swift and true my lonely stone did fly
and fall to the golden field
where the vanquished lay.
And in that instant
I felt feathers brush my fingers
and the beat of a tiny heart in my hands,
the wind against my face
and my spirit soared,
but then I was just standing in a field of corn,
black with crows
and in my hands
a bundle of black feathers and a broken heart.
This is an old one. We had a school reading book about lives of Victorian children, and one of the stories was about a boy who was a sort of human scarecrow. The idea stuck with me for a long time, and eventually resulted in this.
I found my weapons on the battlefield,
repelling the invaders of our golden hoard.
They swarmed, and clamouring,
massed for the attack.
Out of nowhere appeared a single form:
swift and true my lonely stone did fly
and fall to the golden field
where the vanquished lay.
And in that instant
I felt feathers brush my fingers
and the beat of a tiny heart in my hands,
the wind against my face
and my spirit soared,
but then I was just standing in a field of corn,
black with crows
and in my hands
a bundle of black feathers and a broken heart.
This is an old one. We had a school reading book about lives of Victorian children, and one of the stories was about a boy who was a sort of human scarecrow. The idea stuck with me for a long time, and eventually resulted in this.
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