It was strange, I must of sat with her talking a million times, feeling at home at ease. But something had changed, I felt a pressure to say something, to inspire, to placate, I dunno but the atmosphere was uneasy.
I tried to be upbeat, to ask questions, to feel engaged with her life, but I didn’t care, the more I listened the more I got frustrated with her words, nothing mattered, nothing made me laugh or smile or think. I just sat there numb.
After… before, every time we met I thought about myself, I questioned if it was me who was being a dick or if she had changed or if she was just old, did I just need a little more patience. But I couldn’t find it, I couldn’t find anything that we linked on. God I sound awful, this is becoming a rant.
She seemed to have lost some of her kindness, a gentleness that makes people so attractive, an inner smile and the ability to laugh at oneself. She had become combative, like a war had risen up against her. We had always teased her, gently though, but she was the one you went to. She was always the one who knew the answers.
I exhaled and thought more, we were just in different worlds now. And every time I described it I felt defensive towards it and aggressive against it. I didn’t like me like that, so I stayed numb.
Maybe it was because she knew he was leaving, maybe she knew she would have to be brave. Maybe she felt guilty that she had made him hold on, I don’t know, but it was not the same, the family had changed.
Good morning – said the voice from somewhere up above, good morning squeaky replied with a little yawn. He rolled over in his little bed, scrunched up his little face and let out a looooong sigh. And who will you be today the voice continued. Squeaky paused for a moment and then let out his reply.
“Today I want to be squeaky” he announced proudly.
Squeaky lived in a little hole on the north side of moss valley, he had lived there for as long as he could remember, and he loved his little house, it had a little bed, a small stove, (that he frequently bumped his tail on) a set of shelves and of course a cupboard for all his clothes.
However despite squeaky being a happy sort of a fellow there was one this missing from his home, his mummy.
She had been playing by the pond for many months, creating bridges, dams, harbours, sinking stones or fishing them out, but this winter something had caught her attention, something had appeared deep down, right at its heart.
It flickered… sometimes it was bright and shiny, sometimes dull and grey, sometimes it wasn’t there at all. Sometimes she looked and looked but it didn’t appear and sometimes it was there standing proud, staring right back at her, as if it was shouting ‘COME AND GET ME!’
The car passed through the gap in the mountains and then they saw it, in all its vastness, the ocean, drawing the eye away from the rugged, arid landscape all the way to the horizon, to the blue. To the edge of the earth where you where unsure what was sky and what was sea. It was magnificent.
They continued along the coast road for ten minutes hoping for a glimpse, hoping that the stories heard for years over countless numbers of pints would be true. The story of the dragon. How when the winds changed direction and blew up the side of the cliff, out from his cave would come the creature, out from his hibernation to stamp his footprint back on the earth.
Up and down the valley they searched, their eyes desperately following every movement in their view and then… they saw it. The air changed, became cold, the sun brightened piercing the eyes of the travellers making them squint for a moment. The Dragon roared, the sound boomed across the valley and out to the sea, the cliffs shook with the vibration and the Dragon soared into the sky, twisting, spinning and stretching its every limb. Then it was gone, as it crossed from one blue to another, it vanished, gone… as if it were just a cloud.
Things moved fast, life didn’t change much, but there never seemed to be a moment to pause. There was always someone to chat to or laugh with, and you were always close to them, parked up next door or across the road. You could drive somewhere else, but inevitably someone would turn up and then play would resume.
The funniest times were when crews with children turned up, two little rat-bags running around the wild, covered in dirt, but beaming with smiles. It was great to see them play, their imaginations were alive, their toys broken but ingrained with evidence of many stories.
It made me think about our own family, maybe we were all just a bunch of big kids and moving fast wasn’t such a bad thing, maybe it kept our own imaginations alive.
The boys hid in the reeds watching through the mist. They were pretty certain the hunters had gone, but there was no guarantee that they would not return.
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘We need to get the shotgun cartridges.’
‘How do we know where they are?’
‘We don’t that’s why we have to go and have a look.’
‘So they might not even be in the hut, they could have taken them with them.’
Joseph and Andrew had been set another task, this time however it wasn’t part of the initiation it was part of what they did, causing chaos. Out on the lake there were a series of huts on stilts for the duck hunters. The lake wasn’t fenced so the boys could get to the hut without ‘trespassing’, but out in the open, on the lake, there was a high possibility of being spotted and perhaps shot at, deliberately or by accident.
‘Why do we need the cartridges anyway?’
‘Look it’s not our job to ask questions, you have to wait a few years before you can ask questions. Robin will have a plan.’
‘You think he has a gun?’ Joseph asked, Andrew paused letting the words bounce around in his head.
‘I don’t know’ he answered honestly, thinking about the repercussions of getting shot gun cartridges for a real gun. ‘That’s not for thinking abut now, we got to get what we have been told to get and then… Well then we think about the next…’ He trailed off.
Joseph frowned unsatisfied by the answer, but wasn’t brave enough to challenge any more. ‘Shall we swim?’
The boys took off their shirts, trousers and lowered themselves into the water. It was August, but the lake was still cold, the cold ran through their bodies as they tiptoed into the water, clay oozing up in-between their toes. Taking one last breath Andrew lowered his chest into the water and started swimming. Quietly Joseph followed.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at the hut, they circled the building weaving in and out of the pillars in the water looking for some steps up. The poles were slippery, coated in green slime, but at the back Joseph found some steps, he beckoned to Andrew and they hauled themselves onto the platform.
Shivering the two boys scanned the lake’s perimeter, the mist was thick and their movements seemed to have gone unnoticed. Andrew knelt down by the entrance, pressing his ear to the door checking for signs of activity inside. Joseph flicked his head toward Andrew as if to ask if he could hear anything. Andrew shook his head in response, stood clasped the handle, paused, twisted and burst into the room.
It was empty, well, uninhabited at least. There was a sigh of relief and the boys set to work looking for shotgun cartridges.
‘Anything?’ Joesph asked
‘It’s all fishing stuff, bait, rods, tins of meat, look at this’ Andrew held up a tin of smoked sardines, ‘this box is full, I think whoever comes here has a bit of an addiction. You?’
‘Nope, petrol cans, blankets and cooking stuff.’
‘Any shot guns?’ The boys laughed. ‘Joe hold on, come here.’ Andrew had pulled back an old tarpaulin revealing a crate. Joseph crossed the room.
‘What you got?’
‘Shot gun cartridges’ Andrew replied looking at his mate and then back to a red box with ammunition written on it and a drawing of shot gun cartridges. Joseph reached down picked it up and opened the lid.
The regime was strict, roles and responsibilities were clearly defined and the swarm delivered. There were no complaints and no disobedience, but in time the workers were drawn to the cascade.
‘Have you ever flown between the sticks?’
‘You mean pass the wall between the bombs?’
‘Yea’
‘No that’s crazy, if you get hit with one of them it’s over. You’ll end up spinning in circles in the water below.’
‘Terry did it last week.’
There was a hush around the group as the story sunk in. ‘No way, that’s not true Terry wouldn’t even take on the keeper, he once told me he is scared of the walkers. The honey thieves. There is no chance he would take on the bombs.’
‘He did and he said it was the most incredible feeling ever. Clean wings no gold dust, and when he said clean, it wasn’t just like wiping your antennas, he said he could fly twice as fast, like those dragon flys.’
‘Shut up, are you telling me he flew into some of the bombs? Like they actually hit him?’
‘Yea, he took four or five hits’
‘And he didn’t crash, he was able to handle the weight?’
‘Yea he said it was hard, the force of the water was big, but he said he just held on.’
‘Was he in the air?’
‘Not sure, he was definitely on the stick for a few, but one might have hit him in the air.’
‘Brrrrr..’ Jay rolled his lips shaking his head in disbelief, ‘I don’t believe it, crazy… and he said he could fly twice as fast?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘Wow’ Jay looked over at the cascade, dreaming of speed.
‘So you want to be one of us?’ Robin announced after a long hiatus, Joseph nodded in reply. ‘Well it’s not that easy you know…’ Joseph didn’t flinch, kept control of his emotions and looked back into Robin’s eyes, not too fiercely, but enough to show he could stand his ground.
‘We can test him first’ Andrew chimed in.
‘Of course we’re gonna test him, everyone gets tested.’ Andrew looked away sheepishly. ‘You think you are up for that?’ he added talking to the new recruit.
Joseph looked up from the floor and nodded, ‘I am fast, what do I have to do?’
The crew nodded at each other. The boys were all sitting in the attic of the ruin at the top of the village, they had transformed it into a base for their crew and met each weekend to organise their next mission. Today was the induction of a new lad, Joseph, who had just arrived in town.
There was some chatter between the crew and after a few moments Joseph turned to the new boy.
‘Okay listen and listen good, I am only gonna say this once.’ Silence fell around the room. ‘First we gonna blindfold you and take you to the centre of town, you gotta find Mr Finlay’s shop and get into the attic, I’ll give you a clue, there is an old fire escape at the back, it’s not solid but if you are quick you’ll get up it.’ The boys all looked at each other, sly smiles emerging on their faces. ‘Then once you are up there you gotta open one of his old chests, I ain’t gonna tell which one you gotta go for, but you gotta find a skull, the bigger the better.’ Robin paused and signalled around the room with his eyes.
Joseph followed his gaze and saw seven or eight large unidentified skulls hanging on a rope high in the room. He hadn’t noticed them before. Robin continued.
‘Once you got the skull you gotta make you way through the alley ways and back to us, but watch out there maybe a few extra challenges on the way.’
He hid behind the tar barrel waiting for the sailor to move, time was short but if he went now he would definitely give his position away, so he sat, huddled, waiting.
There seemed to be some discussion about the theft but the facts that Toby could overhear didn’t worry him. They were thin on the ground and they definitely didn’t know he was aboard. The two sailors finally departed, Toby had his chance.
He crawled out from behind the barrel and crossed the deck, making sure to avoid the ropes and the wooden board, that looked as if might squeal and give his position away. He paused by the mast, double checked the last few meters and scrabbled to the ladder. Swiftly he spun around and climbed down, as he got close to the water he gave one last look back to the deck, no one, then slid into the water.
After six or seven strokes he was clear, he had to swim fast, but not make any sound, he kept his body low, deep in the water, taking long strokes praying the morning sun would not reveal him.
Finally he pulled himself up the pebbled beach and ran towards the undergrowth. He felt his pocket, it was still there. He let our a small cry of happiness, smiled and vanished into the olive grove.
Alex entered the room, the children knew they should still be asleep, but the arrival of their Uncle the night before was too exciting and the anticipation of fun and games too much to keep their eyes closed.
‘What is going on here you little ratbags.’ Uncle Alex teased the children. There was some little giggling coming from under the duvet. ‘Are there two little thieves hiding from their Uncle under there?’ Alex moved towards the bed where two small children were hiding.
‘We not thieves’ came a muffled denial and then a head popped out, ‘you are a thief’ said Sarah
‘Yea you are a thief’ confirmed her younger brother.
‘I am not’ Uncle Alex replied before jumping on the bed to wrestle the two children. After a few minutes of rough and tumble Sarah’s brother pipped up.
‘Why did you call us thieves?’
Uncle Alex pointed to the jar by the side of the bed filled up with fairy lights. ‘Look, there is the evidence’
Sarah and her brother looked at each other puzzled.
Life From the Dirt 