Jay: August 2011

Anne

“His Majesty, the King,” announced the herald from the far end of the hall.

    Everyone hurried to the sides of the room leaving a narrow, empty passage for King Henry VIII to walk through. The people bowed as he walked past and murmurs of “Your Majesty” followed him through the hall like a wave. One person, however, was not as respectful as the rest. A young woman, new to court, glanced up as he walked past, eager to know what this great King looked like. He wasn't tall but neither was he short and he walked with a slight limp, an old wound, she thought. He wasn't handsome and he was unshaven although his clothes were fairly clean looking. His eyes met hers as he walked and quickly she dropped her gaze and sank into a low curtsey.
    “Your Majesty.”
    She thought he may have let out a scornful chuckle as he went on but it was so quiet that she doubted whether anyone but herself had heard it.
    That evening there was a celebration in court for the newborn baby boy that Queen Katherine had given birth to that day. At last, Henry had an heir. The Queen herself wasn't present but the King was. He didn't take part in the festivities but sat at a table on a raised platform overlooking the dancers.
    He recognised the young woman who had so brazenly raised her eyes to his the morning and chuckled. He watched her dance for a while and then beckoned to one of his courtiers.
    “Majesty?”
    “Who is that woman?” he asked, pointing to her.
    “Anne Boleyn. She's new to court.”

The King turned his head away from the man and looked back at Anne.

She looked up at King Henry VIII and smiled invitingly at him. Then, dropping her eyes demurely, she swept in to a low curtsey, excitement tightening in her stomach.

Seawater

Mathew and Naomi were teenagers, bound together closer than any brother and sister although they were obviously not related, Mathew with his blonde hair and light complexion was so at odds with Naomi’s olive skin and black curly hair. Their parents, Sarah and Rory ran the local vetinary practice. Mathew and Naomi had gone to the same Primary school in the village and now both went to the same secondary school, catching the same bus together every morning. Mathew was a very protective older brother although the pair seemed to be best friends and confided in each other about everything. To outsiders this relationship was strange and even their parents felt left out sometimes from their children’s lives.

But recently something had changed. They had drifted apart. Their parents reasoned with each other that Mathew was simply growing up, he had new friends now, new interests and was tired of his younger sister always tagging alone. They talked about Naomi, how she too had found new friends in the Secondary school. But they knew in their hearts that these reasons weren’t reasonable - they knew something deep and mysterious had shifted between Mathew and Naomi.

    “Naomi! Come on - you’re gonna miss the bus!” Mathew yelled up the stairs. A few months earlier and he would’ve said “we’re gonna miss the bus”.
    “Mathew! Stop shouting for goodness sake”, said his mother, exasperated. “Go ahead and I’ll get her up.”
    Grumbling he stomped out, letting some tangy sea air in as he slammed the door.
    Sarah went up the stairs and into her daughter’s bedroom.
    “Naomi, my lovely, come on - time to get up.”
    No response.
    “Naomi?” Sarah was worried now. “Are you alright?”
    She knelt down by the bed. Naomi had pulled the duvet up over her head. Sarah pulled back the covers and frowned.
    Naomi wasn’t there. She’d rolled up some clothes and her pillow to make it look like she was but there was no mistaking it. Naomi wasn’t there.
    Sarah raced back downstairs and called her husband.
    “Rory? Naomi’s gone.”
    “Gone? Where?”
    “Well I don’t know, do I! She’s just gone - she didn’t get on the bus with Mathew this morning and then I found her clothes and……”
    “Ok, ok, calm down Sarah, it’s alright, I’ll be over in a minute. Alright?”
    “Okay.”
    “Maybe you could phone Matt?”
    “Ok. Love you.”
    “You too. See you in a minute.”
    Sarah put the phone down and called her son.
    Mathew was on the bus when his phone rang.
    “Mum?”
    “Yeah - listen, Naomi isn’t here.”
    “What do you mean - she isn’t in her bed?”
    “Yeah - you know. She’s probably just trying to scare us - she’s been a bit out of it recently.”
    Yeah, thought Mathew - more than you know.
    “Mathew, do you know where she is?”
    He paused, feeling sick - maybe he should tell her…..
    “Mathew?”
    “No, of course not Ma - I would’ve told you.”
    “Okay sweetheart, phone me if you think of anything.”
    “Alright Mum, I will - should I come home?”
    “No, no, you carry on - she might even be in school waiting for you!” the cheeriness in her voice fell flat.
    “Bye Ma.”
    “Bye Matt.”
    He put the phone down, his heart filling with dread. He turned to his friend, Mitch.
    “Wanna bunk off today?”
    “Sure”, Said Mitch enthusiastically.
    “Go down the crag?”
    “If you want….”, he hesitated. “It might be a bit rough….”
    Mathew knew where Naomi was - and it wasn’t school.

An hour later, looking out over the rocky promontory “a bit rough” seemed like a tremendous understatement. The sky and sea were grey and the white peaks of the waves crashed deafeningly onto the rocks below sending a spray of seawater through the air. Mathew tasted the familiar tang of sea-salt on his lips.

    “Jesus! It’s a proper gale now, eh!?” shouted Mitch over the roaring waves and howling winds. “Come on - let’s get back up to the road!”
    Matthew seemed not hear or take any notice of him. Mitch frowned - his friend had been acting pretty weird all morning and now he was getting worried.
    “Matt? Come on man - it’s howling!”
    Matthew turned to Mitch. “I’m going down there.”
    Mitch looked down at the waves breaking on deadly rocks below. “Are off your nut? You can’t go down there!”
    “It’s Naomi - she’s in trouble,” Mitch stared into his best friend’s eyes as he spoke. “Mitch - I’ve got to go down there.”
    “What are you talking about? There’s no way Naomi’s down there in this weather!” Mitch yelled over the wind which seemed to have picked up a notch.
    “I have to go now! There’s no time to explain - don’t wait any longer,” Matthew’s eyes were desperate. “Just wait up here - don‘t come down”
    “What? What’s going on Matt?! Come on, let‘s just get out of here.”
    “Trust me - please - just trust me.”
    With that he turned and started off, climbing down the rocks, keeping low - out of the wind.
    “Matt!”
    Mitch watched helplessly, torn between following his friend and doing what Matt had so urgently bid him. ‘This is insane’, he thought, his hands on his head, wondering what the hell was going on.

    As her brother started to climb down the treacherous rocks, Naomi was waking up. She felt warm and deeply rested……she opened her eyes. Strange, she thought - she seemed to be underwater although she was breathing quite normally. The thought of being underwater didn’t worry her at all, she felt quite calm, almost wanted to drift back to sleep. It was quiet. She sat up slowly and realised that she’d been lying on sand - the bottom of the sea perhaps? Still not fully awake, her senses numbed, she felt no urgency to understand why she had ended up in this peculiar situation after falling asleep in her bed just like every other night. Gazing down at the sand she was lying on, she realised that her feet were tied - tethered to the ocean floor. This worried her and she immediately tried to free herself, kicking and tearing at the ropes with her fingers. She became more and more upset as the ropes stayed firmly in place and was almost crying when she heard something - a voice.
    “Naomi! Naomi!” The voice was urgent - desperate. Naomi? Something stirred in her memories…….Matthew! Her brother - of course! How had she come to forget him? It wasn’t possible surely - she suddenly felt worried and any remnants of her calmness disappeared. Where was she? Why? How?
    “Naomi!”
    “Matt! I’m here! I’m here Matt! Can you hear me? I’m tied up - can you hear me?! Matt! I’m here - down here!!”
    She tugged desperately at the ropes imprisoning her, to no avail. She became conscious of a sound - a single note, eerily drifting through the thick silent water around her. Gazing around, she tried to find the source of the noise. It built in pitch, becoming stronger, louder………then, suddenly, it faded away to nothing again. Naomi shivered. A cold shiver of fear. Suddenly she felt tired again. Why was she scared? That was silly - she should feel safe, warm, happy. There was nothing to worry about……..
    “Naomi!”
    Her eyelids almost closed, her mind already drifting off to oblivious sleep, something fluttered inside her - who was calling? Who was he calling? Instinctively she knew the person was male…..how did she know that?
    “Naomi!”
    Leave me alone, she thought. Leave me to sleep. But wait! What was she doing! Adrenaline pumped through her veins - come on she said to herself, get it together girl. She felt as though she were in a thick fog and couldn’t find her way out. The temptation to sink into the fog and into oblivion was strong, and she was so…..so tired. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her body sagged onto the ocean floor. Her face relaxed into an expression of pure serenity.

    Above the surface, Matt was battered and soaked through to the skin, salt stining his eyes as he tried to make out the next foothold on the slimy rocks.
    “Naomi!”
    He was shouting at the top of his lungs but the wind was throwing his words back in his face as soon as he forced them out.
    “Naomi! Naomi - where are you?!!”
    He struggled on, slipped and cut his leg, bright blood over his ankle.
    “Come back Naomi - please!”

To be continued………

Oakbank

It was on the third floor, the top floor of an old Victorian house. Originally a servant’s room it was small with thin wooden walls. It was lovely to lie there and imagine who slept there before me - a maid perhaps? I could look out of the window and see along the street, almost to the river. If I sat up on the high ledge and leaned out, I could even see my Dad crossing the road back from work. I remember in one corner there was a cot which my brother and I had both slept in as babies. A nightlight sat at the end of my bed to keep the ankle-grabbing monster that lived under my bed at bay. It had a red shade that cast a lovely warm glow in which I could imagine fairies dancing in once I fell asleep.

I loved my room but it had one great flaw. There were too many stairs for my Nana to climb to read my bedtime story to me. And so, my little brother who’s room was on the ground floor, got her there instead and after the story I would have to climb all the stairs myself……….

The White-Haired Boy

A boy stood, head tilted back, mouth wide. He sang with the voice of a hundred angels. The sky opened and mystical beings poured out to sing with him. He sang and sang, his white hair flowing over his shoulders. He sang until his voice could continue no more and then sank to his knees in the grass and wept. He wept for the songs he would never sing until he had not one tear left.

Those who had sang with him returned to where they belonged leaving the white-haired boy alone. He looked up and saw they were gone and wept again until his tears caused a great ocean to flood the land. He was drowned but his legend lived on.
The boy with the white hair was never forgotten as those below heard whispers from heaven of his great song.

The Back Shore......

    The back shore in late afternoon, a vast stretch of stones and pebbles, the tide right out leaving metres of sand exposed. Dead jellyfish dot the wet beach. Clear with purple rings - the harmless ones. They lie there, dead and still but somehow no more alive than when you see them pulsing through the water in the bay.
    A dog barks n the distance, the owner throws something into the water for it. The dog bounds into the sea, no hesitation, and retrieves the object. Back to his master for another throw, an unending circle of throwing and retrieving begins.
    I walk along the sand, up to the stones and sit down. The sea is calm before me, the sky reflected on it’s surface, orange from the sunset. My headphones round my neck, I put R.E.M on and turn the volume up to full blast. Sadness swells in my chest as I listen to it, the familiar sounds reminding me of Dad.

Dog and man have moved off now, leaving the beach empty and me alone. The music’s actually quite good although I am ,of course, obligated to hate it since Dad likes it. Funny, the politics of families. I’d love to just chat to him right now - tell him what I’ve been up to.

Two people are coming along the beach from the village. Hand in hand, they are obviously a couple. The woman’s scarf drifts lazily over her shoulder. They pass and carry on along the beach until their voices fade out of earshot. I’m left alone again but I’m not really alone am I? No. Two seagulls land on the beach, squabbling, eyeing each other, beady eyes staring. They flap their and off they go, chattering and swooping, the currents holding them high in the air.

I shiver, pulling my jacket closer around me - it’s getting cold - time to go home.

Some Interesting Quotes........

I just write what I wanted to write. I write what amuses me. It's totally for myself.

J. K. Rowling

Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say 'infinitely' when you mean 'very'; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.

C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)