Read Online New Welsh Short Stories by Author: QuarkXPress - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Author: QuarkXPress
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out here being burned by her father in the front garden of their home where any neighbour or passer - by might see.
Behind her father is the oak tree and behind that the ivy - covered low stone wall, and in the earth just in front is a bamboo pole that she has topped with a birdâs skull â a totem she had made to ward off danger.
This was long ago, before the poltergeist and the angry words that echo through the house late at night to infiltrate her dreams, turning them into nightmares.
One day her mother came home from the shops and announced she had found a lucky charm. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tiny little hand made from cheap nickel - plated metal. The thumb was tucked into the palm and so were the two middle fingers, leaving just the index and little finger standing proudly erect.
âArenât those meant to represent the Devilâs horns?â the girl said, not knowing where such knowledge came from.
Her motherâs eyes widened in horror and she threw the charm from her hand into the empty sink. Later she took it into the garden and was gone for some time. When she came back into the house she looked tired and frightened.
âI tried to smash it,â she told her daughter. âThen I tried to burn it. Itâs indestructible; it must have been made by the Devil.â
Now the girl is eleven years old and goes to big school where as the littlest, lightest one among her friends she always plays the dead girl.
âThis is the law of levitationâ¦â
There is no greater pleasure than the moment when the other girls lift her high into the air. Her body remains absolutely straight; at no place, either at one leg or at her head, does a weaker girl fail to do the magic, and she seems to almost float upward. No one laughs and the dead girlâs eyes remain closed. She believes. All of them believe.
Her body is still that of a child while all around her the other girls are changing or have already changed into women. After sports they are meant to strip and go into the communal shower, all of them naked together, sixteen or seventeen girls, most of whom have never done such a thing before. None of them are muddy or even sweaty; a half - hour of netball is hardly an exertion, especially after the enforced stillness of sitting at a desk listening to an array of voices droning on about Pythagoras and the tributaries of the Nile and flying buttresses and Beowulf and blanket stitch and the creaming method for making cakes. She and a few other girls run to the showers with their towels wrapped carefully around themselves, then after splashing a little water over their heads and feet they run back to the changing area again.
The poltergeist at home is getting worse. Last night after she had gone to bed he tore the television set from the stand and jumped on it. She doesnât know if he was careful to switch it off and take out the plug first. Probably, as heâs always telling them all to do just that.
She has dark circles under her eyes. She is thin and (though no one knows this) anaemic. She does not do her homework. Every time her parents ask if she has any she says ânoâ or claims that she did it on the bus.
She is like a fallen leaf caught up in a strong gust of wind. She has no locomotion. In biology Mr Thomas has taught them that as seeds have no locomotion they must find other means of dispersal, hence the helicopter wings of sycamore seeds.
In the playground, from behind her, something hard and knobbly is laid upon her head. This may be the start of another interesting game, but when she turns, she sees that the hand belongs to a girl she does not really know, a girl who gives her a smile that is glittering with malice. She has only just understood that the object on the top of her head is a curled fist when its partner arrives to smash it down. It is meant to be like a raw egg breaking on her head, but it is far more painful than that. It
Behind her father is the oak tree and behind that the ivy - covered low stone wall, and in the earth just in front is a bamboo pole that she has topped with a birdâs skull â a totem she had made to ward off danger.
This was long ago, before the poltergeist and the angry words that echo through the house late at night to infiltrate her dreams, turning them into nightmares.
One day her mother came home from the shops and announced she had found a lucky charm. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tiny little hand made from cheap nickel - plated metal. The thumb was tucked into the palm and so were the two middle fingers, leaving just the index and little finger standing proudly erect.
âArenât those meant to represent the Devilâs horns?â the girl said, not knowing where such knowledge came from.
Her motherâs eyes widened in horror and she threw the charm from her hand into the empty sink. Later she took it into the garden and was gone for some time. When she came back into the house she looked tired and frightened.
âI tried to smash it,â she told her daughter. âThen I tried to burn it. Itâs indestructible; it must have been made by the Devil.â
Now the girl is eleven years old and goes to big school where as the littlest, lightest one among her friends she always plays the dead girl.
âThis is the law of levitationâ¦â
There is no greater pleasure than the moment when the other girls lift her high into the air. Her body remains absolutely straight; at no place, either at one leg or at her head, does a weaker girl fail to do the magic, and she seems to almost float upward. No one laughs and the dead girlâs eyes remain closed. She believes. All of them believe.
Her body is still that of a child while all around her the other girls are changing or have already changed into women. After sports they are meant to strip and go into the communal shower, all of them naked together, sixteen or seventeen girls, most of whom have never done such a thing before. None of them are muddy or even sweaty; a half - hour of netball is hardly an exertion, especially after the enforced stillness of sitting at a desk listening to an array of voices droning on about Pythagoras and the tributaries of the Nile and flying buttresses and Beowulf and blanket stitch and the creaming method for making cakes. She and a few other girls run to the showers with their towels wrapped carefully around themselves, then after splashing a little water over their heads and feet they run back to the changing area again.
The poltergeist at home is getting worse. Last night after she had gone to bed he tore the television set from the stand and jumped on it. She doesnât know if he was careful to switch it off and take out the plug first. Probably, as heâs always telling them all to do just that.
She has dark circles under her eyes. She is thin and (though no one knows this) anaemic. She does not do her homework. Every time her parents ask if she has any she says ânoâ or claims that she did it on the bus.
She is like a fallen leaf caught up in a strong gust of wind. She has no locomotion. In biology Mr Thomas has taught them that as seeds have no locomotion they must find other means of dispersal, hence the helicopter wings of sycamore seeds.
In the playground, from behind her, something hard and knobbly is laid upon her head. This may be the start of another interesting game, but when she turns, she sees that the hand belongs to a girl she does not really know, a girl who gives her a smile that is glittering with malice. She has only just understood that the object on the top of her head is a curled fist when its partner arrives to smash it down. It is meant to be like a raw egg breaking on her head, but it is far more painful than that. It
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