Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
A short story containing cunning references to ‘swooping’, ‘cupcakes’ and an illustration of a circa 1900s lady in her sick bed being presented with a library-cart.
Once upon a time I fell down three flights of stairs and buggered my spine. Pretty badly as it turned out. They confined me to my cot for three years. It wasn’t til much, much later that I learned it had all been a stitch up by Morris – my evil twin – and Frida – his equally evil companion. You see, Morris and Frida had the town’s only doctor by his proverbial balls on account of having discovered his penchant for wearing rather more frills and bodices than pinstripes and cravats. It seems the privacy of his own home was not so private after all.
So it was that Dr Pinkslip (not his real name, but everyone knew him as that and I’ve long since forgotten any other version) ordered me to remain prone for the next three winters and he would reassess my case after that. On account of my naivety in those days, and a love of a good lie-in, I complied with his commands and with a stroke of his quill my internment began.
With growing despair over the next two years and nine months I swore black and blue that things would be different when I was well again. I’d make cupcakes for everyone in the street, I’d read to blind Nell when she asked me to instead of sending her audio books she couldn’t play because electricity hadn’t yet been invented. Most of all, I’d learn to tame that nasty neighbourhood tormentor – Freddy – a one eyed falcon who swooped hungrily upon all creatures great and small. Puppies, rabbits, children – all were fair fodder for Freddy, and some were never seen again.
And because of that damn falcon having taken my brother Morris away at 3 years of age and not returning him til his 18th year, by which time he was quite mad and driven only by cruelty and malice, I now found myself being presented with books I’d never read from singularly the most uninspiring collection of drivel you’ll ever see on a mobile book cart.
In my misery I sent the librarian away unrewarded, and chose to say nothing, do nothing, move nowhere until a severe cramp in my right calf caused me to scream and thrash and tumble right out of my sick bed. Without a second thought I stood up. It was a miracle. I could walk. Despite having many months left to serve I knew my days of incarceration were over. I lumbered with an ungainly limp yet surprising haste to hug my brother and Frida and the doctor, but the look of conspiratorial anguish that furrowed each of their brows for the briefest moment told me all I needed to know.
I had been handsomely double-crossed by my own kith and kin.
In a series of shrewd moves, and with the help of Freddy (who it turned out just needed a good cuddle), I rendered all three of my tormentors momentarily senseless, confined them to their beds, and left them to their own devices.
Oh, did I say momentarily senseless? How careless of me.