14-18 years Winning Entry by BRYONY AGAR for The Globe Short Story Competition
Growth
Spring. The girl laughs among the daffodils, toddling away from her mother, her chestnut hair coming loose from its tenderly plaited pigtails. She turns, her face alight with wonder at the world and points at me, giggling as I stretch out, basking in the warm glow of the sun. I watch as her mother scoops her up and whirls her round:
Spinning.
Spiralling.
Soaring.
She stretches out her wings, her stubby fingers reaching out for me as she swoops past. The cries of curlews bubble into the vast blue sky.
Summer, and the air is filled with the cries of warriors. Of explorers, of faeries, of dragons. Ever watchful, I hold the children up, up to the sky, the clouds like careless brushstrokes, still wet, on an infinite blue canvas. Eyes alight with joy, they laugh, playing their simple, innocent games. Perhaps it allows them to be free, to forget any worries, and become their dreams, omnipotent in their own world. And they climb. Reaching. Grabbing. Testing. Pulling. Rising. What is it that makes them think, just a little further, to the next branch and the next, the summit calling them. Laughing, the girl climbs higher than her friends. She reaches with careless ease the route she knows so well. I guide her, secretly, unbeknownst to the others, interlock fingers, help her up. We will win. Higher! Higher! And she turns, grinning down at her friends who stare up from below, her hair dancing in the breeze and I hold her, I won’t let her fall. Trust. A silent bond. She laughs up at the swooping birds.
Autumn, Late Autumn, The first hard frost grips the world in its icy grasp, coating the dead leaves in silver, Black tree branches crack a marble sky. Cold… I feel it seeping into my very core. She comes, running, shattering the brittle silence as she kicks up copper fountains of leaves. Her breath huffs in great plumes into the frigid air and her hands are buried deep in pockets. She’s cut her hair short. And she’s crying. Eyes red and puffy, she stumbles towards me and crashes against me. Her cries pierce the frozen glass. Why? Why are you crying? With a choked yell she punches me. Again. Again. Again. Stop! I grab helplessly at her hands, willing her to stop. And she does. Like a wave that has crashed on the shore, she slumps back against me, sliding into a heap at the floor. I hold her, let her lean against me, feel her ragged breaths slow. Shhh….. I am here. I am comfort. I am sanctuary.
A summer night. A million, million fragments of stars scattered carelessly above. She’s holding me close as I lift her towards the sky. Just watching. Just looking. An awed hush under the heavens. So beautiful.
Breathe in…
A shooting star! A streak of light, of powdered silver.
Breathe out…
And it’s gone. Was it ever there at all? Tonight, she seems more…distant. But the silence is soft, and pleasant. A dark, quiet pool, alive with phosphorescence. A night of wonder. A night to feel alive. The air is cooling now; warmth fading as the stars grow ever brighter. And who else sees them? Who else notices the way that bright one glints rainbow-coloured. The way the minute sky-pearls seem to twine together, forming beasts and angels and dancers. Ethereal. She twirls her fingertips in the starlight, reaching up to the sky. Perhaps they look down on us and watch our frantic lives with mild amusement, swirling slowly above.
Winter clasps the earth in a frost-encrusted silence. I watched as the cold swept in, coating the trees with white. I watched, sleepy, as the snow piled up and up, delicate as duck down; immoveable as rock. Winter has never been my favourite season. Standing, hunched up, weak in the chill. I watched as she came, the girl, mygirl…with… someone else. The way she looked at him. The way they shared a secret smile. It brought light to my heart, warmed it, whilst the ghost-promise of loneliness hung in the air. Of course, she could never stay forever… Hand in hand, they run up, faces red from the raw air. Suddenly, the boy throws a snowball. Laughing, she ducks behind me, uses me as a shield. Splat! The snowball explodes on me in a cloud. I protect her from the blow. Blow? Hah! I have withstood the violent gales, the drenching rain, the roar of the sky beast as it flashes through the clouds.
I haven’t seen her for a while. A while… What is a while to me? I have lived for longer than any human, seen things you only tell stories about. I have watched the seasons flicker into each other and spin in their circles dying and rising and dying and rising… It’s spring…again… the rain falls in heavy sheets, drenching the ground. Sending rivulets of water through the mud. I… mis- no. How can I miss her? A fleeting glimpse into another life. Not mine. But… the way she smiles at me, watches me with more than just a glance.
Summer is merging into autumn. You would think we would get bored, with the same seasons. But each is a little different, and perhaps it’s reassuring – the familiarity, the certainty of the leaves reappearing, the snow falling. I doze, sun-bathed, just lost to the world. I watch as a blackbird hops around me, staring up with beady eyes, then perch on me. A crack! And it’s gone. And suddenly she’s there. After all this time. She’s the same; she’s different. How quickly you change! Oh, how I have missed her face, her smile, the way her eyes crease just in that instant before she laughs. And she’s smiling too, and walking towards me, one hand in her husband’s, one… one clutching a small chubby one, of a young child who can hardly walk, but tries nonetheless. And they’re here. I have waited… Maybe I thought that was it, that was the last I’d see of her, that fading figure. But I waited. I’m good at waiting. They sit near me, leaning against me, the weight a comfort. I watch as the girl- womantickles her son with dry grass. He laughs, squirming. She places him on the ground and he toddles away, hair glowing gold in the afternoon light. She seems so…happy. The boy stumbles. Trips. Falls. With a bump, he lands on me, staring up at me with glassy blue eyes – two pools of morning sky. Eyes that truly see me. And he stares, up and up, as if we have some secret, some mutual understanding of the world, and then he’s gone – crying back to his mother.
Face upturned to the summer rain, she stands next to me. I offer what little shelter I can give but she doesn’t seem to want it. Water runs in rivulets through her greying hair, into her smile. She welcomes, closes her eyes as it washes away her troubles. I love the rain. Life-giving drops whispering out of the sky. I drink it in, feeling refreshed. Alive. We stand together. Just feeling the soft kiss of rain. A silent understanding. An unspoken friendship. Rain is beautiful – if you look at it in the right way. But I suppose you could say that about anything…
Tendrils of evening light stream through the lattice of branches. I feel it, trickling through my leaves to dapple the ground. It’s funny, how in a way, the whole year passes in one day: the dawn – spring, awakening the earth and the light growing yet everything still cool and half asleep. Midday summer, the warmest time, flowers open, life flourishing. Evening, the copper glow of the sun setting casting an autumn orange on the trees, the once lively air cooling. And the night – winter’s cold sleep. Slowly, she walks towards me, a smile hiding behind her wrinkled eyes, grey hair turned gold by the sun. How quickly you age. How you flicker and fade – but, perhaps the brief flames are the brightest. She gazes up at me – is this the same girl who once used to climb so naturally among my branches? Softly, she traces the patterns in my bark with gnarled fingertips, a faraway look in her eyes. With a sigh, she leans heavily against me, and I feel her steady heart-beat seep into my core. And then I too have a heartbeat: she has given me life.
Where is she?
The daffodils are dancing beneath a blue sky. Men in dark coats. One stands aloof. The one with the blond hair. Blue eyes rimmed with red. Is it…? Yes, it must be. And I know, before she arrives, why the silence is so heavy. No… Of course, of course it was to come but…I…I will miss her. I know this because I already do. I want her to smile at me, watch me dance. I want to watch as she plays, as she cares for her family, I… And there she is, and yet not. And as she is lowered down, the boy looks up at me, and smiles sadly. I will look after her for you. I feel her, deep within my roots and I embrace her. A peaceful sleep. I will guard you forever. You are safe. I am here. Another secret I hold in my roots.