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29 October 2014
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Write '07

Starting to slumber

By Susannah Rose from Northampton.

When The Flowers Start To Slumber

"What are you doing?" They seem to ask.

But I'm being true to myself as Mummy always says. I'm 8 years old in 17 days, which makes me a man, not one of those silly boys who chase each other and fall over, grazing their knees. I don't play War, that is anything but a game, I've heard the stories.

Summer on the island is always so hot and we sweat like waterfalls. The clothes seem oppressive on my crying skin. So I like to throw down my shackles and lie free in the open fields.

I know the mothers in town chatter away about the Josephsson Boy, like eager morning birds. "Take care with him, he's so shy. We don't want him to feel excluded."

They think I'm slow and that I don't want to feel out of place. But that's why I run out of town, past the talking tree forest, up into the fields so I can be free. I'm not a twittering bird but a soaring eagle.

At last I'm all alone with no restraints, collecting my thoughts for the day.

I normally decide to return home when the sun wants to travel west and transforms into the brightest ruby in the world. Pirates stole it years ago, but a violent storm sent the sea-beasts down into the abyss and the horizon rightfully retrieved its prize.

As the sun finally wavers goodbye, I wander down the hill, putting my clothes back on as the flowers start to slumber.

When I get home, Dad will be out front playing his accordion. I will enter the kitchen where Mummy will be preparing stew so I will grab some bread and gherkins and walk back outside to sit on the porch, listening to Dad playing songs about young love and long summers.

After getting into my nightclothes, Uncle Jack, Viktor and Mr Tasijergen will come over to make jokes and tell stories with Dad. I help Mummy bring out the stew and I will bring out the glasses for the alcohol Uncle Jack has brought. It is always something different, but to me, they always smell awful.

Dad picks up his accordion and plays again. Uncle Jack sings along and is always off key but when Mr Tasijergen sings, it is something beautiful. He has a deep booming voice, like the talking trees, drawing his power from the earth. Viktor remains silent taking in the sights and sounds.

I always hide on the back step, listening to them talk about the women of their youth and the astonishing things they would do with these big busted girls by the riverbank. All these things I should never listen to, but I am going to be a man soon, so everything I don't understand will soon become clear to me. But I have no interest in their activities by the riverbank, all I like to do there is go fishing.

Viktor leaves the chorus and decides to walk around the house. I've been spotted, but instead of calling out the alarm, he sits next to me and lights his pipe. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and his rosy cheeks & large eyes show he would be best not to drink anymore. When Uncle Jack has too much he lurches from the furniture and serenades Mummy. She doesn't like his constant fuss but smiles politely and helps him to bed if he cant walk himself.

Viktor blows rings and I watch them float like butterflies, making their bid for freedom, like I do each day.

"So what do you want to be when you grow up?" Viktor asked, breaking the silence and the last few smoke rings. "Well I’m not going to join the army like the other boys say. They say I should be strong, but I don't like fighting. I want to make furniture or paint pictures." I said, becoming angry at the boys who call me weak.

"Using your hands to make something is a beautiful gift. It is a power that only you can master and you can create anything that your mind imagines. Fighting brings nothing but pain and fear." He reached down and removed his false leg to show to me. I tried not to look shocked but held it in my hands and felt its smooth curves and wondered how long it took to make.

"I was the lucky one. There is nothing worse in this world than having your best friend die in your arms. Tears began to roll down Viktor's face. I had never thought of anything so horrible and I dropped the leg. It rolled down the hill, heading towards the pond at the bottom. I chased madly after it, tripping over my pajama bottoms. I fell down but managed to stop myself and looked up, just as it flew off the ridge and into the pond. It even floated for a while. I got down to the ridge just as water was being taken on and it started sinking. I couldn't reach it so jumped in and swam after it. I dove under the surface and grasped the sunken treasure from the depths. I took a large breath as I hit the surface and looked up to see everyone staring down at me, with a mixture of confusion and horror.

I held up the leg, like a trophy. This was my trophy I had picked from the bottom of the ocean and survived sharks and grasping seaweed in order to retrieve it.

"Bravo, my little Diver man!" Viktor bellowed from the top of the hill and began laughing loudly. It boomed over the landscape, making all the birds looking up and asking what the joke had been.

As I climbed out of the pond and brought back the leg to its rightful owner, I began to chuckle myself. Mummy rolled her eyes "What am I going to do with you?"

last updated: 02/04/07
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