The very thing you strive for ...
So, I've brought you another story. This time it's one I've written for school. It was planned badly and it's very rushed at the end. So, I apologise.
I
“Is all of this just fairy tales?” the elf on the Bank of Ireland advertisement asked rhetorically again.
“Yes,” scoffed my Dad from the couch as he rubbed his temples exhaustedly. “No one in this world, my dear, will give you something for nothing.” My Dad knew about money, or at least I thought he did. He was always at work and we got lots of letters from the bank. My seven year old reasoning told me that they needed Dad’s help for something. My brother wouldn’t explain it, except that they talked to Dad a lot. Ever since Mom died they wanted to talk to him even more, and work needed him and my brother and I saw less and less of him. Mike, my brother, wasn’t around a whole lot, now that I think about it. They had fights, Mike and Dad, about Mike’s school and graffiti … I didn’t understand what it meant, but it was bad.
Dad, when he was home, was always ranting and raving about something. I got scared and usually hid when this happened. Then Mike would yell at Dad for scaring me, and Dad would yell some more and there’d be door slamming and deathly, tense silence, like waiting in the crushing silence in the eye of a hurricane. And as sure as the hurricane returning, the yelling would start up again if either announced they had to leave.
It was during one of these miniature wars that I found myself hiding under my bed with my eyes scrunched closed against the raised voices and the dust threatening to envelop me. I was scared to death of mice or rats or earwigs … or anything with more legs than it should have had, in general. My ears were working double time. I felt a tugging on my foot. I snapped my head around, ready to run for my life. I can still remember the affronted look on its face.
“I’m not going to eat you, if that’s what you’re thinking. God, humans!” He turned sharply around … at least, I thought it was a ‘he’ …
“Look, I don’t have all day. Follow me.” He wasn’t facing me but was tapping his foot violently. I didn’t argue. This pint sized … being … was fierce enough to bully me into submission. His skin had a grey tinge and he had a tattered hat with a white feather sticking out of it at an odd angle. His coat was down to the floor with enormous buttons fastening it at various intervals. Wisps of hair strayed from beneath the hat, and from what I could see, it was black and turning grey.
I scrambled after him and came to a mouse hole. I looked at him sceptically, but before I knew it, I was staring up at him.
“There. Go ahead dear.” His mood seemed to have changed since he had a height advantage. I peered into the dark abyss.
“I want my Dad.” I managed.
“I can’t get you your Dad, but we’ll see about your brother later.” He said gruffly. I started to cry. I didn’t know why I was there.
“Oh Lord, Tony didn’t say anything about this. Erm …there there?” He patted my head awkwardly and thrust a handkerchief at me. It was pristine with red embroidery. I blew my nose and handed it back.
“Thank you.” He grimaced and lowered it delicately into a pocket. He took my hand. “Here, I’ll go first if you like.” A candle flickered to life and then two and three as we walked down the corridor.
“Okay, I’d better explain. I’m Claude from Elves ‘n’ Hobbits and we saw you hiding and though you needed a spot of help … and maybe a biscuit?” He smiled hopefully.
“I like Kimberley’s.” I said eventually.
“I’d hoped you’d say that. I like chocolate digestives myself.” He winked. I thought of Mike.
“What’ll happen while I’m gone?” I was suddenly worried and wanted to go back again.
“They won’t notice. They’re arguing and you’ll be back before they’ve finished.” He didn’t meet my eye, but I didn’t say any more. Mike would do this too. Not answer a question, but finish the conversation at the same time.
I was sitting in Claude’s sitting room with a Kimberley and a hot cup of tea. He was pacing with his chocolate digestive.
“What’s wrong?” I asked eventually. I’d seen Mike do this countless times, pacing in his bedroom as we waited for Dad to come home from the hospital.
“Oh right,” he said, as if he’d just noticed me, “nothing really. Just … just someone you’re supposed to meet …”
Suddenly the door slammed and I remembered how angry Mom was that day she came home from work. I didn’t, and don’t, remember why to this day. All I remember was the fury and her lifeless hands as she was taken into the ambulance. Mike held my hand as I cried. Dad wouldn’t let us come.
Claude was holding my hand and I felt the hot, wet tears streaming down my face.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” A kindly voice behind him spoke. I sniffed.
“I think she let the tea fall and burned herself.” I looked down and saw the china in smithereens on the floor.
“I’m so sorry -” I started. The woman stepped out of the shadows. Her grey hair was tied up in a soft bun with pieces falling around her grey tinged face. Her eyes looked like Claude’s. I felt a strong sense of sadness and wondered how I knew her.
“It’s alright. Claude won’t mind. He has lots of other cups.” She spoke with kind authority. Claude nodded. “We’ve got something very important to tell you Lizzie.” Mom called me Lizzie, not Ellie like Dad. “It’s about this problem we have. An evil Lord has taken over the whole of Phantasia Land.”
“He’s making us live in poverty!” Claude jerked a finger at his clothes. “I was a celebrated fresco painter before this. Now I work for him for pittance.” Claude flung himself down, frustrated. I smiled.
“What’re you so happy about?” he said, now staring sulkily at the holes in his shoes.
“You’re exactly like Mike.” I said with a chuckle. I turned my attention back to the woman. “What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“We’ve tried revolting and striking and all manner of things. We have to get you to talk to him, to sort things out. But first, we need you to change.” I saw what she meant, my clothes would stick out a mile.
I changed and waited in a dark overgrown laneway. A huge factory loomed on the horizon, all lit up and puffing pink clouds. I dug Claude in the ribs,
“What’s that?”
“It’s the Elves ‘n’ Hobbits factory. The clouds are spell cast-off, they should be blue …” He trailed off as we heard a car purr closer. All of a sudden, I was alone in the bushes. The sound of a horn, a couple of unmentionable swear words and a lot of scuffling later and I was being yelled at to run. I could hear Claude and a couple of others running being me, but I was faster. First place in the egg and spoon race two years running.
We crashed in the hallway of an abandoned house with our strangely struggling bag. I could see some of the others itching to hit it with something.
“Open the bag dearest Claude, would you?” The woman at Claude’s house had a note of definite severity in her tone.
“With pleasure, Mom.” He opened to bag and like lightening, whipped it off our captive’s head. Out fell my Dad. His skin and hair were grey, his eyes were a little bigger and his ears slightly pointed. But I recognised him immediately.
“Dad?!” both Claude and I exclaimed. I looked, bewildered, at Claude. He pointed to my hands. They were tinged with grey. My hands rushed to my ears, which were now pointed. Dad and Claude started yelling at each other. I knew what I had to do.
“STOP IT! You’re always at each other’s throats! Why can’t you just stop fighting?” I’d rushed into the hallway where Dad and Mike were in the midst of their third argument of the day. My knees were sore from being in one hunched up position for so long under my bed. “I hate you fighting and you haven’t stopped since Mom died.” The silence that followed was nearly as bad as the gaps between the fights. However, this time it was an ashamed silence. Mike looked at the floor; Dad was staring straight at me.
“I’m sorry Lizzie.” Mike looked up and winked. Dad was still staring.
“I … I didn’t know it affected you that much El. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you still have to get back to the office?” I asked.
“I should … but how about we get a pizza from 4-Star and break out the DVD’s? Just you and me.” Dad held out his arms for a hug.
“You’d go watching DVD’s without me?” Mike eyed Dad.
“Get your coat. No horrors this time, I still haven’t forgotten the Grudge.”
“What’s the grudge?” I asked.
Mike groaned and shrugged.
“Come on, I bet you can’t beat me to the car, Liz.” Mike took off out the door.
The best part of ten years later and I still remember that night as if it was yesterday. They made me sit through a load of rubbish kids films all night, stuff that I’d bought years ago. They wouldn’t take me to see Bratz.
I looked for that mouse hole again too, but as I said, I wasn’t fond of creepy crawly things, so I made Dad pull out my bed. Apart from a few old Barbie dolls, there was nothing to see. I also have a tiny piece of china that I found in my pocket days later.
I don’t know, is all of this just fairy takes? Some kids want to play fireman or Spiderman, but I had a secret world underneath my bed.
“Yes,” scoffed my Dad from the couch as he rubbed his temples exhaustedly. “No one in this world, my dear, will give you something for nothing.” My Dad knew about money, or at least I thought he did. He was always at work and we got lots of letters from the bank. My seven year old reasoning told me that they needed Dad’s help for something. My brother wouldn’t explain it, except that they talked to Dad a lot. Ever since Mom died they wanted to talk to him even more, and work needed him and my brother and I saw less and less of him. Mike, my brother, wasn’t around a whole lot, now that I think about it. They had fights, Mike and Dad, about Mike’s school and graffiti … I didn’t understand what it meant, but it was bad.
Dad, when he was home, was always ranting and raving about something. I got scared and usually hid when this happened. Then Mike would yell at Dad for scaring me, and Dad would yell some more and there’d be door slamming and deathly, tense silence, like waiting in the crushing silence in the eye of a hurricane. And as sure as the hurricane returning, the yelling would start up again if either announced they had to leave.
It was during one of these miniature wars that I found myself hiding under my bed with my eyes scrunched closed against the raised voices and the dust threatening to envelop me. I was scared to death of mice or rats or earwigs … or anything with more legs than it should have had, in general. My ears were working double time. I felt a tugging on my foot. I snapped my head around, ready to run for my life. I can still remember the affronted look on its face.
“I’m not going to eat you, if that’s what you’re thinking. God, humans!” He turned sharply around … at least, I thought it was a ‘he’ …
“Look, I don’t have all day. Follow me.” He wasn’t facing me but was tapping his foot violently. I didn’t argue. This pint sized … being … was fierce enough to bully me into submission. His skin had a grey tinge and he had a tattered hat with a white feather sticking out of it at an odd angle. His coat was down to the floor with enormous buttons fastening it at various intervals. Wisps of hair strayed from beneath the hat, and from what I could see, it was black and turning grey.
I scrambled after him and came to a mouse hole. I looked at him sceptically, but before I knew it, I was staring up at him.
“There. Go ahead dear.” His mood seemed to have changed since he had a height advantage. I peered into the dark abyss.
“I want my Dad.” I managed.
“I can’t get you your Dad, but we’ll see about your brother later.” He said gruffly. I started to cry. I didn’t know why I was there.
“Oh Lord, Tony didn’t say anything about this. Erm …there there?” He patted my head awkwardly and thrust a handkerchief at me. It was pristine with red embroidery. I blew my nose and handed it back.
“Thank you.” He grimaced and lowered it delicately into a pocket. He took my hand. “Here, I’ll go first if you like.” A candle flickered to life and then two and three as we walked down the corridor.
“Okay, I’d better explain. I’m Claude from Elves ‘n’ Hobbits and we saw you hiding and though you needed a spot of help … and maybe a biscuit?” He smiled hopefully.
“I like Kimberley’s.” I said eventually.
“I’d hoped you’d say that. I like chocolate digestives myself.” He winked. I thought of Mike.
“What’ll happen while I’m gone?” I was suddenly worried and wanted to go back again.
“They won’t notice. They’re arguing and you’ll be back before they’ve finished.” He didn’t meet my eye, but I didn’t say any more. Mike would do this too. Not answer a question, but finish the conversation at the same time.
***
I was sitting in Claude’s sitting room with a Kimberley and a hot cup of tea. He was pacing with his chocolate digestive.
“What’s wrong?” I asked eventually. I’d seen Mike do this countless times, pacing in his bedroom as we waited for Dad to come home from the hospital.
“Oh right,” he said, as if he’d just noticed me, “nothing really. Just … just someone you’re supposed to meet …”
Suddenly the door slammed and I remembered how angry Mom was that day she came home from work. I didn’t, and don’t, remember why to this day. All I remember was the fury and her lifeless hands as she was taken into the ambulance. Mike held my hand as I cried. Dad wouldn’t let us come.
Claude was holding my hand and I felt the hot, wet tears streaming down my face.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” A kindly voice behind him spoke. I sniffed.
“I think she let the tea fall and burned herself.” I looked down and saw the china in smithereens on the floor.
“I’m so sorry -” I started. The woman stepped out of the shadows. Her grey hair was tied up in a soft bun with pieces falling around her grey tinged face. Her eyes looked like Claude’s. I felt a strong sense of sadness and wondered how I knew her.
“It’s alright. Claude won’t mind. He has lots of other cups.” She spoke with kind authority. Claude nodded. “We’ve got something very important to tell you Lizzie.” Mom called me Lizzie, not Ellie like Dad. “It’s about this problem we have. An evil Lord has taken over the whole of Phantasia Land.”
“He’s making us live in poverty!” Claude jerked a finger at his clothes. “I was a celebrated fresco painter before this. Now I work for him for pittance.” Claude flung himself down, frustrated. I smiled.
“What’re you so happy about?” he said, now staring sulkily at the holes in his shoes.
“You’re exactly like Mike.” I said with a chuckle. I turned my attention back to the woman. “What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“We’ve tried revolting and striking and all manner of things. We have to get you to talk to him, to sort things out. But first, we need you to change.” I saw what she meant, my clothes would stick out a mile.
I changed and waited in a dark overgrown laneway. A huge factory loomed on the horizon, all lit up and puffing pink clouds. I dug Claude in the ribs,
“What’s that?”
“It’s the Elves ‘n’ Hobbits factory. The clouds are spell cast-off, they should be blue …” He trailed off as we heard a car purr closer. All of a sudden, I was alone in the bushes. The sound of a horn, a couple of unmentionable swear words and a lot of scuffling later and I was being yelled at to run. I could hear Claude and a couple of others running being me, but I was faster. First place in the egg and spoon race two years running.
We crashed in the hallway of an abandoned house with our strangely struggling bag. I could see some of the others itching to hit it with something.
“Open the bag dearest Claude, would you?” The woman at Claude’s house had a note of definite severity in her tone.
“With pleasure, Mom.” He opened to bag and like lightening, whipped it off our captive’s head. Out fell my Dad. His skin and hair were grey, his eyes were a little bigger and his ears slightly pointed. But I recognised him immediately.
“Dad?!” both Claude and I exclaimed. I looked, bewildered, at Claude. He pointed to my hands. They were tinged with grey. My hands rushed to my ears, which were now pointed. Dad and Claude started yelling at each other. I knew what I had to do.
“STOP IT! You’re always at each other’s throats! Why can’t you just stop fighting?” I’d rushed into the hallway where Dad and Mike were in the midst of their third argument of the day. My knees were sore from being in one hunched up position for so long under my bed. “I hate you fighting and you haven’t stopped since Mom died.” The silence that followed was nearly as bad as the gaps between the fights. However, this time it was an ashamed silence. Mike looked at the floor; Dad was staring straight at me.
“I’m sorry Lizzie.” Mike looked up and winked. Dad was still staring.
“I … I didn’t know it affected you that much El. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you still have to get back to the office?” I asked.
“I should … but how about we get a pizza from 4-Star and break out the DVD’s? Just you and me.” Dad held out his arms for a hug.
“You’d go watching DVD’s without me?” Mike eyed Dad.
“Get your coat. No horrors this time, I still haven’t forgotten the Grudge.”
“What’s the grudge?” I asked.
Mike groaned and shrugged.
“Come on, I bet you can’t beat me to the car, Liz.” Mike took off out the door.
***
The best part of ten years later and I still remember that night as if it was yesterday. They made me sit through a load of rubbish kids films all night, stuff that I’d bought years ago. They wouldn’t take me to see Bratz.
I looked for that mouse hole again too, but as I said, I wasn’t fond of creepy crawly things, so I made Dad pull out my bed. Apart from a few old Barbie dolls, there was nothing to see. I also have a tiny piece of china that I found in my pocket days later.
I don’t know, is all of this just fairy takes? Some kids want to play fireman or Spiderman, but I had a secret world underneath my bed.
It wreaks of Narnia, but this was actually written before I saw that film, and considering I didn't know the story before that, it's fairly original. The ending is very happy families as well as rushed. I apologise unduly for that. I tried to edit it, but that's just the way it went.
As always, I'm appealing for comments, be they good bad or indifferent. I'll keep on writing badly until you give me your opinion. Believe me, I do need them.
... is the thing that makes you blind
