HOME | DD

Description
Seaside

The old woman sits, staring blankly at the old photograph on the dresser. It shows a young man, laughing at the camera, arm around a beautiful girl smiling up at the camera. She sighs, and turns away. Too many memories. She levers herself up off the bed, and goes into the kitchen. Time for breakfast. She looks at the calendar on the pantry door halfheartedly as she gets out her cereal; she is expecting a doctor’s appointment soon, being a couple of weeks since the last one. She sees the date and freezes, the box slipping out of her hands.  ‘No’, she moans, tears coming to her eyes. ‘Not already’.

“January 16th” it reads.

She sits at the table, turning the picture over in her hands. It shows the same couple as the one in the bedroom, but in this one they are silhouetted against the sunrise, facing the sea holding hands, backs to the camera. She smiles sadly, tracing the outlines of his body with her frail fingers. She can still remember every detail of his perfect body. She decides; one last visit. She’s gotten old, and this might be her last chance.

She sits stiffly on the bus; her old bones weren‘t designed for these seats. She watches the countryside flash past, drawing her nearer and nearer. They enter the town, and she gets off, shuffling through familiar streets to one she knows well. She enters the caravan park, and greets the woman serving. Martha has been working her for as long as she can remember, since before she was born. She asks for the usual room and gets it, of course. They reserve it for her every year, knowing she will be drawn here.

She settles herself into the room, she has been coming here for the past 50 years, she knows it like the back of her hand. Better even, her hands have been changing, showing the signs of her aging. But this room has stayed the same, exactly the same. Through renovations, through hell and high water, it had been kept, for her, for him.  She lies on the bed, time for a nap. She’s not worried, she knows she will be woken up in time; she always is when she’s here.

She wakes as usual at 9, and goes down the beach to meet the others. But something’s different tonight; the air feels awake, alive with electricity. She passes it off as nerves; she has tried to banish all thoughts of this night this past year.  She decides to go down to the dunes instead, to the dune. She sits on the sand, and lies back, waiting for all the stars to come out.

She starts to think; the first time she has let herself remember properly.  Her mind immediately brings her back to that night, but she’s not ready for that yet. She thinks back to all the gatherings over the years, held on this night, this time annually. She thinks of his smile. Of his perfect teeth, yet crooked smile. Of his hair, which caused her so much frustration, yet was so perfect. The night she met him, their eyes drawn to each other over the campfire. The months they spent together, the happiest of her life.  And then, as always, back to that night, the confrontation, the argument, the accident. The months and months of anguish. And then, one year later, the end. This night, years ago, everything ended for him, and for her. She was never the same again, a shell of her former self.

The stars are all out, so she can sleep now. He could never sleep when the stars were ‘hiding’, and now neither can she. She closes here eyes; it is comforting here in the sand, like an old friend.

Hours later, she opens her eyes, startled at how long she had been lying there. It looks like dusk, around 5 in the afternoon. She gets up and stretches, feeling reinvigorated. She walks along the sand, frowning as she sees the remnants of the gathering; normally they would have tidied it up hours ago. She walks closer, maybe there was something in the air last night after all.  She sees a girl walking among the remains, a green backpack held in one hand. It reminds her so much of herself when she was young, walking through the dunes with her old green backpack, the one which belonged to her mum in her hippie days.

She moves closer, and the girl turns around to face her. The old woman gasps, staring at her is herself, when she was young. She slowly moves closer, taking in every detail of the girl, the face which is hers, the clothes she knows so well. And the backpack, with the badges her mum put on when she was young. The old woman blinks, and shakes her head as if to clear it.

‘Are you okay?’ the girl calls out.
‘Of course’ she stammers. There’s no doubt about it. This is her. Suddenly she remembers, a memory pushed down by happier ones, and then the bad ones. This day, several months before she met him. She was wandering by the remnants of a gathering, and an old woman had slowly walked up and asked about her love life, whether she had someone special. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but now…

‘How are you?’ she asks, fulfilling destiny. ‘Got anyone special tucked away?’
‘No one at the moment’ the girl (not the girl though, herself) replies hesitantly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Well soon you will. And you will be very happy. But be careful, it comes at a price. You must-”

She is cut off. The girl mumbles her thanks, and walks away quickly, not looking back at the obviously crazy woman. She sighs, wondering why she didn’t listen when she was young.

Then she realises. This is what she is here for. To make sure she doesn’t make the same mistakes again. To fix her life, once and for all.

Description
Seaside

The old woman sits, staring blankly at the old photograph on the dresser. It shows a young man, laughing at the camera, arm around a beautiful girl smiling up at the camera. She sighs, and turns away. Too many memories. She levers herself up off the bed, and goes into the kitchen. Time for breakfast. She looks at the calendar on the pantry door halfheartedly as she gets out her cereal; she is expecting a doctor’s appointment soon, being a couple of weeks since the last one. She sees the date and freezes, the box slipping out of her hands.  ‘No’, she moans, tears coming to her eyes. ‘Not already’.

“January 16th” it reads.

She sits at the table, turning the picture over in her hands. It shows the same couple as the one in the bedroom, but in this one they are silhouetted against the sunrise, facing the sea holding hands, backs to the camera. She smiles sadly, tracing the outlines of his body with her frail fingers. She can still remember every detail of his perfect body. She decides; one last visit. She’s gotten old, and this might be her last chance.

She sits stiffly on the bus; her old bones weren‘t designed for these seats. She watches the countryside flash past, drawing her nearer and nearer. They enter the town, and she gets off, shuffling through familiar streets to one she knows well. She enters the caravan park, and greets the woman serving. Martha has been working her for as long as she can remember, since before she was born. She asks for the usual room and gets it, of course. They reserve it for her every year, knowing she will be drawn here.

She settles herself into the room, she has been coming here for the past 50 years, she knows it like the back of her hand. Better even, her hands have been changing, showing the signs of her aging. But this room has stayed the same, exactly the same. Through renovations, through hell and high water, it had been kept, for her, for him.  She lies on the bed, time for a nap. She’s not worried, she knows she will be woken up in time; she always is when she’s here.

She wakes as usual at 9, and goes down the beach to meet the others. But something’s different tonight; the air feels awake, alive with electricity. She passes it off as nerves; she has tried to banish all thoughts of this night this past year.  She decides to go down to the dunes instead, to the dune. She sits on the sand, and lies back, waiting for all the stars to come out.

She starts to think; the first time she has let herself remember properly.  Her mind immediately brings her back to that night, but she’s not ready for that yet. She thinks back to all the gatherings over the years, held on this night, this time annually. She thinks of his smile. Of his perfect teeth, yet crooked smile. Of his hair, which caused her so much frustration, yet was so perfect. The night she met him, their eyes drawn to each other over the campfire. The months they spent together, the happiest of her life.  And then, as always, back to that night, the confrontation, the argument, the accident. The months and months of anguish. And then, one year later, the end. This night, years ago, everything ended for him, and for her. She was never the same again, a shell of her former self.

The stars are all out, so she can sleep now. He could never sleep when the stars were ‘hiding’, and now neither can she. She closes here eyes; it is comforting here in the sand, like an old friend.

Hours later, she opens her eyes, startled at how long she had been lying there. It looks like dusk, around 5 in the afternoon. She gets up and stretches, feeling reinvigorated. She walks along the sand, frowning as she sees the remnants of the gathering; normally they would have tidied it up hours ago. She walks closer, maybe there was something in the air last night after all.  She sees a girl walking among the remains, a green backpack held in one hand. It reminds her so much of herself when she was young, walking through the dunes with her old green backpack, the one which belonged to her mum in her hippie days.

She moves closer, and the girl turns around to face her. The old woman gasps, staring at her is herself, when she was young. She slowly moves closer, taking in every detail of the girl, the face which is hers, the clothes she knows so well. And the backpack, with the badges her mum put on when she was young. The old woman blinks, and shakes her head as if to clear it.

‘Are you okay?’ the girl calls out.
‘Of course’ she stammers. There’s no doubt about it. This is her. Suddenly she remembers, a memory pushed down by happier ones, and then the bad ones. This day, several months before she met him. She was wandering by the remnants of a gathering, and an old woman had slowly walked up and asked about her love life, whether she had someone special. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but now…

‘How are you?’ she asks, fulfilling destiny. ‘Got anyone special tucked away?’
‘No one at the moment’ the girl (not the girl though, herself) replies hesitantly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Well soon you will. And you will be very happy. But be careful, it comes at a price. You must-”

She is cut off. The girl mumbles her thanks, and walks away quickly, not looking back at the obviously crazy woman. She sighs, wondering why she didn’t listen when she was young.

Then she realises. This is what she is here for. To make sure she doesn’t make the same mistakes again. To fix her life, once and for all.