I walk up the hill. The purple heather parts before me. A wintry day with light snow falling from the trees. This has been my destination for as long as I can remember. Fate has found many ways to prevent me from being here. A sick cat, a sick mother, my own flu. Leading to delay after delay, until I thought maybe I’m done with this whole thing. Perhaps they do not want me to come here. Yet I had to. Whilst there was still a reserve of energy in my bones, I knew that I would know and taste this land before I ended up in the grave.
Holding my stick of yew, I placed it precariously on the solid ground as I moved higher and higher, knowing that there is nothing solid to hold onto and then I get a peak at the top and there they are.
I need a moment to catch my breath. Panting slightly, I see them just as I imagined; beckoning me into the centre of their concentric circle. I feel the ancients - the mother with the streaking white hair, her necklace of jade dangling over her chest, making an incantation to the God of rain.
He plays on the beach. Looking out at the water as he carves out a sandcastle with his plastic spade. He imagines sharks and dolphins and all the little eels swimming together in the depths of the ocean. His mum lounges on a chair a few feet away, the whiteness of the lotion spilling into her skin. She looks at him drowsily and occasionally nods off to sleep, only to return to wakefulness at the sound of the waves crashing and the cawing of the seagulls aggressively searching for leftovers of crisps and chips and chocolate.
The boy etches away. Carving out a hole for the gateway, a turret like the one he saw on his visit to the Tower of London. He looks around and finds the beach is empty. Only him and his mum and the sharks and primitive fishes that lurk only a few feet away from him. Maybe he’ll go in. Maybe he’ll see what it’s like to ride on the back of a dolphin and then have a seal nuzzle his neck and guide him safely back to the shore. He looks at his mum. She is asleep under the intense blaze of the sun. Dropping his spade, he wades towards the water.
I lay in bed today. Well on the bed. This other being feeds me, I lie on him. I wait for him. I sniff. I try to go into the cupboard. I paw at it. There must be some real magic inside. Some special treats, but it’s always blocked off. Then I get bored and I remember my nice. I lie on my back and play with him and the string. I enjoy the rough sensation of the Matt against my back. I am alive. I look outside the window. I don’t see much. Sometimes I see the other cat. He’s grey and has wild green eyes, just like mine. We stare each other out. He looks at me as though he is the winner because I am stuck indoors whilst he has my territory to roam around in, but he knows I always have the best of him when we’re evenly matched. The little whipper snapper! My dad let me outside today. I like to sniff amongst the leaves or just lie down on the cool grass. I tend to get tired of that though and miss the warmth, so I’ll wait until dad lets me back in. I’m starting to work out how to communicate with him. He let me out pretty much immediately today when I leaped up onto the door. He things I’m a fickle, precious thing but I do demand my freedom too. I know he doesn’t want to deny me that. He wants me to feel safe. I sometimes feel all the tension in his body. He was very lonely until I came along, but now we’re together. The universe brought us together. I do like it here. I get fed and I can relax whenever I want and most of all I love it when I can just lie on my dad and he strokes me and we go to sleep together, sharing the most amazing dreams.
