Elaine Whyley page 2

Unknown Friends

©2006 Elaine Whyley

On a cold October night, when the sky was clear and the air chilled, there was a gathering, not a normal kind of gathering; this had a strange mix; a white rabbit, a tree spirit, a witch, a man with a face of two halves, a woman with ebony hair and a dark angel. On any normal evening this would be seen as odd but this night was All Hallows Eve. They walked together, with laughter in the air, and every now and then the sound of a silver topped cane tapped the floor. They were heading for a larger gathering of ages old and young.

It had all been planned a few weeks before, meetings had been and gone, arrangements had been made. This was a social event, one of many, a night when all these unknown friends would get together and start releasing the true colours of the faces behind the masks. We all wear them, we all hide behind them, the persona we put on so not to come across like the pasts we own. Different people with different backgrounds, all thrown into the same situation of working and learning, discovering the real faces behind the false ones. All ages releasing the potential none of us thought we had and all sharing the experience together.

Well, the wine flowed and the songs were harmonised, maybe over time the friendships would follow the same path. Friendships that would see balls of snow being volleyed across the courtyard, to be followed by a lesson in damp attire, a mixture of ages acting like the inner child that as adults we try to keep quiet but the inner child can’t sit still and won’t keep silent. Funny how the snow brings them out to play, but looking at the adults that hide them you would never have thought that six months earlier they had never met. In the backdrop of an old abbey with the motto ‘Late but in Earnest’ these unknown friends grew and flourished like the trees and flowers that surround them. The cold didn’t stop them; neither did the dark. Long hours spent in each other’s company, the library that became a second home, shared at the midnight hour. The sharing of quiet moments where one or two would drop the cover and show the trust that lies within. And the loud occasions where confidence and respect would fall on a song. The clearings of ground when discussion and conversation would open up to stories, for it then to be released with a disc of green, sometimes caught, sometimes dropped just like the masks we wear.

At breakfast morning after the nights before, a question shared for points, to start the day with no pretence, just something to get the grey cells to work on, over an egg or two. Holding on to the time that was left; time moves so fast when you’re having fun so they say. These unknown friends would move to the far ends of their worlds after a short time together, taking with them endless memories, both good and bad, meeting and learning, laughing and singing, moving on to discovery of a world that was opened up for them by this place, this history, this inspiration.

And now nine months on, when the sun is warming the ground, ‘unknown’ friends gather again, with a air of sadness, one last social event, one last gathering, no white rabbit, no dark angel, no man with a face of two halves, no woman with ebony hair and no tree-spirit, just a gathering of ‘unknown’ friends with no masks, friendships that were conceived in the womb of an abbey and born in the dream of the future.

Daymares and Nightmares

©2006 Elaine Whyley

She stood by the window. The view was unimpressive: a footpath, a road, the houses on the other side. Nothing changes! she thought. She looked up, can’t really see much of the sky. She loved the sky, especially in the winter with the low sun casting long shadows, the blue and pink of an early sunset, the yellows and browns of an approaching storm. The way the snow looks dark against the blue and white when it reaches the ground.

She envied the birds being able to fly through it. She wished she could fly, fly away to a far off place where this world couldn’t find her, but no! Here is where she was, here is where she chose, but it wasn’t a good choice in the long run.

At first this place was new, clean, hers but now it was cold, frightening, dangerous and seemed to belong to someone or something else: Yes! A something! Not a person or animal but a thing; a thing that comes in, takes over, destroys lives, and doesn’t care if you care or not. Not a person or animal but a thing; an emotionless thing with no feeling, no sense of time, no sense of dignity.

She turned away from the window and looked at the room. In the corner was the television on some channel. She didn’t know what it was; just on as it always was. The stereo that came into the house like a lot of other things it didn’t belong to her, it was just there. On the fire place were ornaments that she’d had for years. They belonged to her. She could take them with her, if she wanted.

Wanted!

What did she want?

To get out, be free, yes but not just her, all of them. She looked down at the threadbare carpet, covered in oil stains from when this room was used as a garage but not anymore, the only thing left were the oil stains. Two chairs were up against one of the walls, odd chairs that were given to her by someone. She couldn’t remember who! There was no settee, just a double mattress folded to look like one. They pulled it down to sleep on at night, but in the day it got sat on by strangers, friends, family and dogs. The room smelt of dogs. There were three there at this time, three dogs and two cats. She could hardly believe they had dogs when they could barely feed themselves, but they had them and they all slept together in the one room. They used to sleep upstairs till the night “they” came, searched the place then left. After that she preferred to sleep downstairs.

The room needed decorating. Wallpaper had started to hang off the walls. The paint was stained with cigarette smoke. The gloss was chipped and there was a huge hole in the door. She’d tried to make it look nice once before the uncaring thing came and took over. She’d lost control over it; it had taken her too, deep into the night it would call to her and she would obey by choice. It helped her forget… it. It helped them all but it didn’t really, it confused them into thinking it was helping, this thing that takes over, takes part of you till there’s no you left.

She turned back towards the window again, a large window that seemed to take up the whole wall. A place where she could stand and look out, a place where she could dream away the hours till that time again when she would forget. Hers dreams were of escaping, going to a place where it couldn’t find them. There must be a place, where they could go with or without belongings, where it wouldn’t find them.

She started to plan their escape: get a car, pack their stuff and leave in the middle of the night, so no one would see.

A safe place!

Get a car? That meant trusting someone.

Who could she ask?

Not the usual crowd, THEY don’t want them to go, THEY have a relationship with it, it would then know and would hurt them by making them go without that’s what it did, hurt whenever she decided to leave it.

How would she do this?

Trust, trust who could she trust?

This question would be on her mind for what seemed like an eternity.

She hated being alone here. She knew where it was hiding. She could get it out and kill it, but then the others would get angry and maybe kill her. Then she’d never be free. That’s what it does; it puts fear into safe places. People wandered passed the window going about their daily routine. She had a routine too, but it was controlled by it. She wondered if the people outside knew what she knew, or did they just get on with things unknowing. She wished she was unknowing, never leant to say its name, never got used to the smell of it. This thing that crept up on them till they had succumbed to its charm, she laughed! It doesn’t have any charm just a bad smell. When she slept she thought of it, not dreams just nightmares. In the day she thought of it not daydreaming but daymares. Nightmares and daymares not a world fit for anyone but this was her world, the one she chose.

Now she wanted out. The safe place where it wasn’t, the country maybe? A bit of persuading would be needed. Some may not be very happy going. They wouldn’t have a place to stay but no place is better than this place. She knew this was a good idea. A plan was forming. She was getting back control. It would hurt her but it was hurting now. She didn’t have a choice once but she did now. She was going to get free and she would take them with her, even the dogs. This would be a new: clean world her world that she chose. A safe place she could relax in. A place where she could go into the dreams not just look at them through the window. She would be the one who makes the decision to leave it. She would get them out, yes! All out. She’d be known has a heroine. ‘Funny how the name of your fear can be turned into something good.

A chance meeting and something unintended followed from the heart's intention.....With a little twist.

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