A story that was published in The Eildon Tree magazine.
The house where I used to live had the rolling hills across from it. One day out walking I saw two people run down one of the less steep hills. They were fine and loved it. They smiled up at me and away they went.
From that in the strange way of creativity came this story.
Two more short stories recently published in Dreich Shorts below `Soulmates` story.
Two more short stories recently published in Dreich Shorts below `Soulmates` story.
SOULMATES
MICHAEL
They
thought he was scared but he wasn’t. His
screams and screeches were all part of it
but they
didn’t know
they tried to comfort him
they
tried to
calm
him down
but they didn’t know
he
wanted to lie in his own bed in the darkness of the night, and stare up at the
skylight, at the shifting stars, at the moon shimmering and vibrating across
the window; he wanted to stare and feel his skin tingle at the shadows of the
trees whipped by the wind; he wanted his ears to ache with the creak and rattle
of the window frame; he wanted his eyes to stretch with the dancing, ghoulish,
stretching finger shaped shapes.
He
wanted
but they didn’t know
and
one windy, wild day he jumped off the always bouncing, moving school bus and
ran the uphill country mile to his cottage in the wilderness, threw his
flapping school bag in the heap of a corner in the hall, and with his mother’s
shout of ‘Dooooor Michael ’ whizzing over his head, he leaped, and scrambled up
the wooden, creaking stairs to his bedroom, the smile growing with every creak
and groan of the stairs, of the house, and into his bedroom he clattered and
his eyes smiling upwards
but they
didn’t know
and
Michael’s smile died
for parents
being parents
they
had blocked
off
the skylight
and now
only
the dull square
ordinary window in
the side
wall
with
a view
to the hills the beautifully
dull
dreary hills
they
didn’t know.
MARTHA.
They
thought she was strange but she wasn’t.
Her silent moving lips were all part of it
but they didn’t know
they tried to get her to
speak
normally
communicate
but they didn’t know
she
moved silent lips to whisper wondrous thoughts to fill her mind’s eye, to fly
off tall buildings with her arms for wings, to walk the tightrope without a
net, to climb the mountain without a rope, to feel her skin tingle with the
sight of the hard ground; she wanted to feel her muscles tense and stretch, and
her lips dry, and her eyes nip with the cold sweat.
She
wanted
but they didn’t know
and they wrapped her tight in the safety of
their home, bought her readymade toys, bought her ready made friends, filled
her silence with their chatter, screeched and ran when she sat atop the highest
tree in their garden, arms outstretched, face smiling upwards, mouth mouthing
her own silent words.
but they didn’t
know
so
parents being parents they took an
axe
to the tree
and now
only
the dull
square flat of
the garden
for
they didn’t know
and
Martha’s smile died.
MARTHA
AND MICHAEL
There
must be a God, a keeper of ill fitting souls for the day came that out of the
east came Michael, no longer a boy, a man now in his thirties with the Fred
Perry shirt tight over rounded shoulders, with the ill fitting jeans and
trainers and no socks, and looking like all the world as if the monk-like
balding circle on the top of his head had been cut to measure; for out of the
west came Martha, no longer a girl, a woman now in her mid thirties with the
Fred Perry shirt tight over drooping breasts, with the ill fitting slacks and
sandals and no shoes, and looking like all the world as if the bun that held
her hair tight against the back of her head had been baked and left to harden a
long time since.
Michael
and Martha smiled.
For
they knew.
For
now after the sun, the rain had come, hard and whipped up, and the trees swung
in wild circles as they walked, fast, up, and along the rim of the hill,
towards each other, to their place, to the cairn that sat solid at the edge of
the slope, that ran down between the sharpest of rocks to the flat safety of
the valley below.
They
shivered as their skin tingled, as they reached the cairn and spoke together
then laughed, then Michael said.
‘Martha?’
She
nodded.
‘Michael?’
He
nodded.
They
turned to face the edge of the slope. They stood. Then reached and his left hand took her
right; her right hand took his left, and they knew and tilted forward into the
slope, felt the gravity push at them and they were away and running, eyes wide,
breath caught and held, blood pumping legs to dodge the jagged rocks, to hold
tight against the slipping, grassy, moving ground. And his screams and screeches, and her
smiling face held up, were all part of it; and they shuddered and tumbled to a
rolling stop against the flat safety of the valley; and they choked with their
laughter, and rolled into each other, and smiled at the rips in their ill
fitting
and
above them a voice
shouted
‘are you okay?’
and a dog galloped down the hill towards
them
and the
voice
on the hill
screeched
‘here
boy come away from them’
for
the voice didn’t know.
