pippipip
My mama always said that the most important thin' a young lady can do in her society is to give to others. Anne-Louise says it's lookin' nice and not speakin' much. But Old Mrs Hubbot says it's to be nice to everybody.
The ship is sinking, and fast. I clutch at a lifesaver, my fingers scraping off the slippery sides, people are screaming and crying and pleading, but I block them out. I have to save myself first. There is a massive, ear-splitting crack and I'm shoved away from the carcass of the ship by the force of the front end smacking the water. Everything goes eerily still, all I can hear is my own laboured breaths as I finally hook my fingers over the rough edge of the lifesaver and haul my water-logged self into balance. I choke and gasp and try and swallow through the sandpaper in my teeth.
The rocks slip under my feet as I scramble over the rough terrain. I have to look at the ground constantly to keep from tumbling over my own feet and my hands are screaming and torn.
A gust of wind blows it to my feet. It's a lone page, dusty and tea stained and as the wind blows in into my face I catch the faint smell of coffee. The street is deserted. I can hear footsteps and voices in the nearby streets, but here, in this corner of the city there's no one.
There are things that you wear that you put away and never think of again. This dress is one of them. It's hideous and pink and full of all of the froufrou and hoop-la that you'd expect. If it wasn't for my sisters wedding I would throw it in the boot of my car and throw it in a swamp. Or perhaps not. I wouldn't want to foist something that horrendous onto the poor environment. Burn it maybe. Throw it into toxic nuclear waste. Wearing it would not be on the agenda.
Do you remember pleading with Mum at 1 in the morning that you didn't really need to go to sleep? I don't. I guess these are the things you only learn after someone's gone.
"Oh yes, she was always like that"
"I knew this was coming".
If they knew any of this rubbish was going to come then what on Earth made them think it was okay?
Some people are just starry-eyed, I guess. Bright eyed and wondering. They're the kinds of people who never stopped asking why. My sister was one of those. Now that she's gone, I suppose all I have are the stars.
There are a couple of pigeons sitting on my wall. It's funny because they're all plumped up and clucking and strutting around as though that windowsill is a throne and they are looking down at all the passer bys on the street as peasants.