Nano Day 096.
It didn't work
Anwen threw herself into her studies. She closed her mind down to all thoughts of carnality, to all thoughts of yearning and needing and wanting. She tried to think herself into a nun. She focussed so hard on her studies that she barely got a thing wrong, and was laughed at and pointed out for working to the exclusion of everything else, and for getting the highest marks and having the neatest writing, and for having blue ink stained up the sides of her fingers, and for not having a short enough skirt and not pushing the rules by wearing even a hint of make-up and for doing little more with her hair than pulling it into a ponytail in the morning and leaving it like that all day.
The world outside her home was a hateful place. The only place that was a balm to her was as she sat in the classroom on the wooden chair, her book open on the desk before her, letting numbers soothe her mind. Then the sly laughing and soft-spoken taunts went unheard, and her mind sealed
Nano Day 08******
Sleep stayed miles away from her that night. She lay in her bed, blankets and sheets pulled up to her chin, hiding her body from herself. She lay with the light off, with the moonlight shifting on the curtains and with sparkles dancing before her eyes in the half light.
Sleep hovered on the edges of the room. It hung on the chest of drawers in the corner. It hid behind the pediment of the ugly, old fashioned wardrobe against the wall. It whispered dark things in her ears and then darted away. She lay, and stared at the ceiling, and the light fitting dark and monstrous against it, and at the moving curtains and the shadows in the corners and the hunchbacked shapes of the furniture. She lay and thought of Idwal, and her stomach turned over and her heart beat fast, and she clenched her hands and trapped them under her back, and she bit her lip into her mouth and hated herself.
And then finally, when the moonlight was being effaced by the rising sun and birds were beginning their re
Nano Day 075.
Walking down the lane, the flowers blooming in high summer, queen anne's lace and ragged robin and stitchwort bursting from the hedgerows, and birds, sudden and startling darting from the leaves and streaking in front of her face, and crying, somewhere a small child crying, from somewhere near the ground and it was Idwal, a three-year-old, fallen down into the cavernous dark where the stream ran beneath the road, and he was reaching up, his arms wet and bedraggled by mud, and she couldn't reach him, and when she could his hand slipped out of hers, cold and dead and then she was down in the water with him, floating and drowning, her lungs bursting inside her, and he was grown, not a child, tangled with her, and his hand slipped between her legs, and a thrill ran through her, and
she woke, her face pressed hard against the blanket, her mouth stifled from the air, too hot and sweating and confused, the weight of coverings over her shoulders an
Nano Day 06It was like immersing her sun-warm body in ice, but she did not let it register. She pushed her eyes open, against instinct, searching against the sting of the water for the pale-fish flicker of flesh under water. He was there, a second away from her fingertips, a slow red puff like red smoke blooming in the water about his head.
She grasped him, a dead weight, seeing his drifting open mouth as she turned him, his hair moving like stands of sea-grass, his eyes half open with the whites floating behind the lids. She dragged him upwards, and surfaced like a cork pushing out of the water, every cell in her body yearning towards air and pulling her out of this alien depth. Her arms were around a body made slippery with wet and cold, his hair soaked and dripping, his skin blue-tinged, his chest deadly still. His nerves made no protest when she pulled him over the shale at the shore, and she saw him suddenly as if from far away small, stark-ribbed and feeble, all length and limbs and