Memory I

Eath was wandering the streets again. She was lost, again. She couldn’t remember which way she had come, again. And nothing was further from her mind. Again.1

The market surrounding her thrummed, voices calling their products onto the wash of people, shoppers heckling eagerly between them and with brawny stall-holders.2

A sweet, cloying scent wafted towards her on the muggy breeze, tainted with the sweat and alcohol of the crowd, but clear as perfume in her head; the sticky smell of molten sugar. Like a moth struggling towards a candle flame, she dipped her way through the thick mass of bodies, until she finally found herself standing before a gaudily striped stall, reds, whites and blues flashing brightly in the summer sun. A huge vat of gummy sugar stood at the back of the stand, glinting like gold as a young boy stirred it strongly, paddle straining through the mixture.3

Every so often, he would stop the stirring, take one of the crimson apples that sat on the racks beside him and dip it into the syrup. When he took them out, he would place them gently on his other side, before taking up another.4

An older man stood at the front of the stall, a broad smile creasing his face. He had a large white moustache and a tangle of silver hair cropped neatly around his face. A rather large stomach protruded over his belt, making him look a bit like the story of Father Christmas that Eath’s mother told her of. She smiled at the thought of this, imagining him in a bright red suit and dropping down chimneys.5

Laughing with the customers that flocked to his stand, he occasionally reached behind him to take hold of some of the caramel apples, exchanging them with money in eagerly waiting hands.6

Suddenly hearing or seeing something behind Eath and the crowd, he turned to the boy and called, “Patrin, take the stall. I’ll be back soon.” Before disappearing off somewhere that Eath couldn’t see. Patrin obediently banked the fires and moved to the desk at the front, taking money and giving out the sweet.7

Eath stood by for a short while, watching the boy in silence, while the queues slowly dwindled. When no-one was left, Patrin stood on his own, watching to see if anyone else would turn up, and obviously waiting for the old man to return.8

Finally noticing her waiting in silence by the edge of the stand, he walked over to her and leant over the counter, asking kindly, “are you ok? Would you like a caramel apple? We make the best around here!” Eath’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head, saying quietly, “I haven’t got any money,” but she couldn’t help glancing at the rows of golden apples lying behind Patrin. He smiled slightly, fighting within himself about something that Eath couldn’t quite understand. Then, he turned around, took one of the apples from the shelf and placed it in Eath’s hands with a smile. “Just don’t tell my da’, ok?” he said, winking at her. Eath smiled, blushing slightly and bobbed a thankyou at him, turning and dashing off into the crowd, leaving the young boy shaking his head, but smiling nonetheless.9

Eath wandered along again, taking small bites of the apple and smiling at the sticky sweetness as some of the juice dribbled down her chin. Wanting to get a little bit of breathing space from the crowd, she made her way to the edge of the street, and into one of the alleyways that branched off. As she was walking through the quiet and dingy alleys, she heard a small commotion and, not being the most sensible of children, decided to go and investigate. Making her way toward the sound, she stumbled across the Father Christmas man that had been selling the caramel apples, his feet stuck in the pavement. His face was twisted in tension, as he struggled to pull himself free. Sweat beaded on his face as he glanced up at someone just out of Eath’s sight at the end of the alley. Stepping out from the edge, she saw another man, this one much younger with short blond hair, standing in the middle of the alley with his eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on his face.10

“Little one,” whispered the Father Christmas man, “run away! You need to leave, now!”11

Eath instead walked over to him, “what’s wrong?” she asked inquisitively, “what happened to your feet?”12

Glancing behind her, the old man blanched. He shoved Eath to the side, so she landed on her backside in a small pile of sludge. Tears pricked her eyes and she bit her lip, trying not to cry. She liked this dress, and this old man had got it all dirty.13

Far off, she could hear a voice, raised up in near panic. “Eath! Eath!” it cried, “Eath, where are you?!?”14

“mummy!” she called, tears beginning to run down her face. She stood up and began to move to the end of the alleyway. “Mummy!”15

Eath’s mother ran into the end of the street, and Eath froze where she was, sobbing gently. Golden hair framed a face of an angel, as her emerald eyes surveyed the scene. Fear crossed her face as the man behind Eath screamed at her to move again. She dashed towards Eath, knocking the elbow of the young man who had his eyes closed as she ran past.16

Then everything seemed to go wrong. One of the younger man’s eyes opened, panic screaming across his face, and lightning began to spring from his body, as all the power he had been building up ripped free in a moment of lost concentration. Eath’s mother thudded into her, knocking her to the floor, and covering her with her body. Eath saw a thousand electric blue bolts of lightning come sailing out of the man, before everything went black as her mother’s body blocked out her view.17

Screams ripped from the young man’s vocal cords, as though his soul itself was being flayed from his body. A thousand cracks whipped through the air and Eath screwed her eyes shut, stuffing her fingers in her ears, trying to block out those haunting screams.18

After what seemed an eternity of silence, she could feel her mother lifting off her, so she opened her eyes again. Instead, the Father Christmas man stood above her, looking very worried. “Are you ok?” he asked, his voice gruff but concerned.19

“Y-yes,” whispered Eath quietly.20

“Then come with me.” He took hold of her wrist and pulled her upright, dusting down her dress with large, calloused hands that were oddly careful, as though they could break her at any moment.21

“b-but, what about my mummy?” she asked, looking around for her mum. When her eyes fell upon her mother, more tears trickled down her face. She knew something was wrong – her mother lay unmoving on the floor, her emerald eyes blank, lifeless. The golden hair that had seemed like a halo now lay in a dark tangle around her head, and her beautiful face that had once been so lively and happy now lay in a blank façade, dead to the world.22

Tearing herself free of the old man, she dashed to her mother’s side, dropping to her knees in the mud, and shaking her shoulders. “Mummy,” she called, “mummy, what’s wrong?” The Father Christmas man lay a hand on her shoulder and said, “come on, we need to leave,” but Eath ignored him.23

“Mummy!” she shouted, “Mummy, please listen to me! Mummy!” Tears streamed down her face as she shook her mother’s shoulders, trying to get her to listen, to wake up, to do anything.24

The Father Christmas man sighed and lifted her up, saying, “come, my dear, we need to get away from here…” But Eath just screamed for her mother, hitting her tiny fists on the old man’s back, screaming for him to put her down, for her mother to listen and to save her. Her screams eventually bubbled down into tears, and her vision streamed and blurred. Needing something to hold, she put her arms around the old man’s neck and hugged him and hugged him, every so often whispering, “mummy, mummy, please come back,” into his neck.25

In no time at all, the old man had put her down on the floor, and was saying quiet words to another person who she couldn’t see through the haze of tears that streamed down her face. A small hand slipped into her own, and she gripped it tight, stuffing a thumb into her mouth and crying quietly. Slowly, everything dissolved into blck, and she was tumbling away into the dark….26

***27

Eath awoke with a start, feeling the sodden pillow beneath her face. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and trying to find a tissue to blow her nose on. She didn’t know why she kept having these dreams recently, memories springing back from being buried somewhere deep.28

Already, the names where fading, and all she could see was her mother’s dead body, lying on the floor, left to cool and rot in a darkened alleyway. Tears threatened to start again, and so she got up and pulled on a thick jumper.29

She let herself out of her cabin and wandered through the darkened ‘van park, making her way towards one in particular. She knocked on the door, and hissed through, “Patrin, Patrin, are you awake?”30