MissRosebud
Try to read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would. ~Zadie Smith
MissRosebud
Try to read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would. ~Zadie Smith
Try to read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would. ~Zadie Smith
Try to read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would. ~Zadie Smith
I saw a shooting star last night. I didn’t tell mum that I got out of bed and made a wish. But this morning there’s a fluffy puppy downstairs in the living room. Mum says it’s a surprise for me but she’s always been against me having a puppy. Why now?
Days pass and I soon regret this wish coming true. Puppy’s are hard work. You have to take them for walks, change their bed, feed them. They are always excited. It’s exhausting.
I saw another shooting star last night. I made a wish and this morning when I came downstairs it came true. There’s no soft barking, no chewed shoes by the front door. There’s no cute cuddles, there’s no squeaky toys anymore.
I wish my wish didn’t come true.
I hold the sheet of paper in my hand. It’s another house form.
The cobbled walls are covered in moss which is astonishing. How did it get down here? How is there enough light or air for the moss to thrive?
The low ceilings have spider web homes on it. They hang even lower than the dust balls in the corners. Can spiders live without light? Can they make their homes comfortably in such a cold space?
No light, no heat. You’ll get more than just chills down there but I guess that’s just part of the package.
Am I interested? Rent is going low. Oh, and no neighbours.
I hold back the urge to throw the paper out of the window on the moving train. Am I ever going to find somewhere to live? Am I ever going to find a home?
“Boxed cereal or breakfast bar?” a deep, male voice asks. He’s loud enough that I can hear him from the other room. It does help that the dinning room door is slightly ajar. I’ve never heard him before so I can’t put a face to his voice.
“Skip.” Jane answers back. Her voice lacking any emotion like his was. I can picture her expressionless face clearly. She’s always been quiet and keeps to herself every time I come here to clean. Her house is spotless every time and she pays well so it’s a win win for me.
“You’re not going to have anything?” the man says. He sounds equally as bored as Jane does. I flick my eyes to the dining room door where they are and imagine Jane and her company just sat round her large dining table, both with no emotion on their face.
I don’t think about pulling the door too as it makes a loud clicking noise when it shuts. I shake my head and move my body from the door. I’m not eavesdropping. They’re just not trying to be quiet or anything. I kneel on the floor and start wiping down the skirting boards before making my way to the grand piano sat under the window.
“I’ll have something later.” Jane’s voice picks up in volume but other than that she sounds beyond bored. But this time her words are followed by a loud clanking noise.
I jump and drop the bottle of spray from my hand and keep my other hand still on top of the piano. They didn’t hear me. They didn’t hear me. I’m not eavesdropping. I’m not eavesdropping. I hear their footsteps and I curse Jane’s squeaky floor boards.
“Oh I see.” the man finally has some oomph to his voice. He sounds happy and excited. I might even say he sounds giddy. “I should really be asking, butchers knife or machete?”
I gasp. I can’t help it. They’re not talking about their breakfast. They’re not talking about eating. Butchers knife or machete? My heart beats faster and I’m inching closer to the dinning room door. What will she pick?
“You spend the night with me, and you’re only now working out what gets me going.” Jane says and just like with him I can now hear the smile in her voice. The happiness that comes out with her words.
A deep chuckle and a soft giggle come next.
I can’t keep this to myself. Whatever this is, I need to tell someone. My own lips lift at each corner and suddenly I feel like I’m in on their secret.
I finish cleaning the rest of the front room with a happy swing to my step whilst I hear the laughs and smiles coming from the next room followed by painful whimpers and cries.
“99, 100. I’m coming to find you.” shouts a ittle girl. Her voice is rough and sounds like sand paper scratching along a wall. The yellow butterfly clips in her hair flutter their wings like they’ve been counting with her.
“That wasn’t all the way to 100.” a boy yells out from his side of the room. His voice is high and rings out in the room. The toy dinosaur he holds in his hand nods his head in agreement with what he yelled.
“You’re cheating.” comes another small voice belonging to a girl. Her voice is low and quiet but somehow echos in the room. Her long white braided hair shines as if it’s a living thing detecting whether or not she cheated.
Before I can stop any of the small voices shouting over the top of each other, a nurse walks into the room. She leans her hand on my shoulder and her eyes laugh as she looks over the small beds set out in a line.
“Welcome to the ward.” she smiles at me, almost sadly. “Pretty sure you’re one of the only temp nurses who haven’t begged to switch wards yet.”
I hear a low, gently voice whisper my name. And then the voice changes to a loud shout. Over and over again I hear my name being said. Where’s it coming from? Behind the door? Behind the windows? It must be coming from outside. I hear my name again, only this time it’s followed by a soft caress along the walls in my head. The threatening voice isn’t coming from outside, no. It’s coming from inside. Inside my mind.
Screaming comes from the the room next door.
‘A baby’s being born?’ one asks, joy laced in each word.
‘Could be someone’s last scream.’ the other said, voice muffled beneath the blanket covering her body.
‘Don’t say that.’ the first voice scolded. Her eyes wide in alarm. ‘Where’s your optimism?’
‘We’re in a bloody hospital.’ they said flatly. ‘There’s no optimism here.’
‘Optimistic, pessimistic.’ the nurse huffed out sadly. ‘There’s no middle ground with you two.’
She stands taller than me, her bare feet stand steady as she smiles at the panning cameras. I pull the swimsuit from my body but the fabric smacks back down with a soft thud. I feel itchy, I feel annoyed. There was seconds between the two of us but she stands up there like she’s done something far more amazing.