Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
A young girl sits on a grassy hill, feeling the sun on her skin.
There are scabs on her knees, and her hair is in pigtails.
Beside her is a round, tin. Empty of chocolates, full of dollar notes.
There is a train in the distance, the whistle blows.
She tenses, knowing what is to come.
“Don’t tell”, he whispers.
His fingers hurt.
The train roars by, her head pounds.
They walk back to the house together; he’s carrying the chocolate tin.
Her fingers are wrapped around a crumpled dollar note.
Don’t tell, he whispered.
The rest, she made up on her own.
“Don’t tell, or your mum will hate you”.
“Don’t tell, or something terrible will happen”.
The nightmares come later.
A train whistle blows, the danger is close.
All the children, hiding in the kitchen cupboard.
She can’t stay quiet, a whimper escapes.
Danger comes, and kills her mum and dad, then sends parcels filled with pieces of them wrapped up in brown paper; ears and noses and fingers, bloody and terrifying.
She wakes, night after night, crying, terrified, and alone.
“Don’t tell”. He whispered.
The rest she made up herself.
The words did more damage than his fingers.
She told, eventually, of that.
But the words stayed, and they stole her voice.
Now that girl is all grown up (apparently).
And she wants to be able to tell.
Simple things, about how she feels, and who she is.
She’ll start with a whisper, and keep whispering.
Until she learns to trust her voice again.
And then she will roar.