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| The Last Day | |
| By Asferthecat | ||||||||||||||||||||||
| 06 August 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||||||
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1,600 words This one is a bit out of my comfort zone and all help gratefully received. The assignment is to write a story with a sense of place. Molly awoke early on her mother’s thirtieth birthday. She slipped out of bed, put on jeans and a t-shirt, and quietly left the house. Spring gentians, as blue as the Virgin Mary’s cloak, grew on the mountain behind their cottage, and she intended to pick one of the rare and blessed flowers to put on her mother’s breakfast tray. The air was cool and birdsong rose from the valley as Molly followed a pony track, which zigzagged up the mountain. The climb was steep and she paused for breath, turning to look at the scene behind her. She was high above the cottage and could see over its moss-covered roof to where fields and woods sloped down to the great lake, which lay glinting in the early-morning sun. Her’s was a world of two parts – the lush green of the valley and the granite mass of the mountains, and Molly loved them both. The track turned a corner and the valley was hidden from view. Molly climbed on, conscious that time was passing and her mother would soon be awake. The track stopped at an abandoned copper-mine, now half-hidden behind a tangle of barbed wire. Molly continued up the mountainside, scrambling over boulders and finding footholds on the tussocky grass. She kept a lookout for the blue flash of a gentian and found one, at last, tucked away in a gulley. By now the wind had picked up, and clouds had hidden the sun. She looked up. Black rain-clouds were scudding across the sky, building up for one of the sudden squalls that were a feature of Lakeland. She scrambled down the mountain and had reached the old mine by the time the first heavy raindrops began to fall. Undeterred by the barbed-wire, she wriggled through a gap she had often used before, and found shelter in the entrance. It was a forbidden place but it held no fear for her. Indeed, she was fascinated by the blue-green rivulets that marked the ends of the copper seams. They glistened like water, but felt smooth and dry like rock, a strange combination of elements. She had moved further into the mine, following the rivulets, when she heard a voice. “Is anyone there?” Like a startled animal, Molly didn’t reply, but shrank back against the wall, as a man’s bulk loomed darkly at the mine’s entrance. “I know you’re there,” he said, and began to move towards her. With a whimper she ran back into the darkness. She was deeper in the mine than she had ever been before. In front of her was pitch blackness. She hesitated and glanced back. He was still following, backlit by the dim remnants of daylight. “I saw you, you can’t hide from me,” he said, and his harsh voice echoed from the mine walls so it seemed that he was all around her. Molly hurried down the sloping floor into the depths of the mine. She followed the wall with one hand, and held the other straight out in front of her face, feeling for obstacles. Beneath her feet, loose rubble crunched and clattered, so she knew that he would be able to hear her progress. Suddenly, the sound of her footsteps changed, they became louder and more resonant – she was running across wooden boards. “Stop,” he yelled, but she ran on. She was on solid rock now, the ground firm beneath her feet. Then her outstretched hand crashed against a wall – she had reached a dead-end. She turned, her eyes wide, straining to see into the darkness. His footsteps were loud on the wooden flooring. There was a creaking, then a crash, followed, seconds later, by a thump. Then there was nothing. Molly stood, scarcely breathing, as she listened. Finally, emboldened by the silence she dropped to her knees and crawled forwards. She felt the rough edge, where the boards had broken and drew back hurriedly, half expecting a hand to come clutching up from the depths. There was the sound of a groan. The man was still alive. At any moment he might recover from his fall and crawl up out of the abyss to find her trapped against the dead-end. She must escape – but how? She crawled forwards again, her heart hammering with fear. She reached across the void as far as she could. There were no sign of floorboards on the other side, so the gap was too wide for her to attempt a jump. Then her questing fingers found the ledge upon which the boards had rested. It was scarcely four inches wide, but to Molly it was as if the Virgin herself had sent a bridge to safety. Slowly and silently, Molly stood up and pressed her back against the wall. She could feel its roughness pluck at her clothes as she inched forwards towards the ledge. She moved sideways, like a crab, and soon her toes were unsupported, over the void, her whole weight thrown back on her heels. Time passed with agonising slowness as she moved along the ledge. She knew that if he became aware of what she was doing, he could reach up and grab her ankles and pull her down to join him. Her foot dislodged a stone and she heard it thump on the ground below. She felt sick with fear. For long seconds she stood unable to move. Her knees were shaking so badly, she thought she would follow the trajectory of the stone into the depths. There was no sign of movement from below and gradually she recovered. Onwards she inched along the ledge until at last her forward foot knocked against a plank – she had reached the other side of the hole. She stepped up onto the planking, keeping close to the wall so the rotten wood might not break beneath her. The man must have heard the boards creaking, because a voice came up from below. “Help me.” Molly turned and ran towards daylight and freedom. When Molly arrived back at the cottage her mother was up and was making breakfast, stirring the porridge pot on the Aga. “I thought I was going to get breakfast in bed,” she said. “Where have you been? I was worried about you.” “I went up the mountain to find you a gentian – they are mean to be lucky,” said Molly. Her mother turned to her with a smile and held out her hand. “What a sweet thought. Where is it?” It was then that Molly realised that she no longer had the gentian. “I must have dropped it,” she said. Her mother frowned, and looked at her more closely. “Look at the state of you,” she said. “You haven’t been playing in that old mine have you?” Because she didn’t want to upset her mother, Molly said “No.” Far away down the valley, a cock crew. Molly had told her first wicked lie. They were having birthday cake for tea when Mrs Oxborrow knocked on the door. She didn’t come in - she was looking for her husband. “Did you see a man when you went out this morning?” Her mother asked Molly. Because she didn’t want her mother to know she had been near the mine, Molly said “No.” Far away down the valley the cock crew. Molly had told her second wicked lie. The next morning ,Molly waited until her mother had gone shopping and then she went up to the mine. Its entrance no longer looked like a cave; it looked like a wound in the mountainside, an ugly gash, bleeding dark shadows. Molly hovered at the entrance, afraid to enter, in case Mr Oxborrow might be lurking in the darkness. She threw a stone into the mine and waited, ready to run if she heard an answering voice. There was silence. Molly hurried back down the mountainside and was safely home when her mother returned. “They still haven’t found Mr Oxborrow. Some people are saying he might have done a runner,” Molly’s mother gave a light laugh. “Have you any idea where he might be Molly?” Because Molly was a coward and didn’t want to get into trouble, she said “No.” Far away down the valley the cock crew. Molly had told her third wicked lie. They found Mr Oxborrow that evening. He had broken his leg and was suffering from shock and dehydration. He never recovered consciousness but died that night in hospital. “Poor Mrs Oxborrow,” said Molly’s mother, as she kneaded salt dough on the kitchen table. “If only he had been found earlier, he would have been okay. Nobody thought to look in the mine. He was so conscious of the danger, he was always warning children to stay away.” She paused and looked at Molly. “The funny thing is, they found a gentian on the ground beside him.” Molly never went up to the mountains again, but spent her time beside the lake. Sometimes, when the water was so smooth that it reflected the banks like a looking glass, Molly would stare at the upside-down trees and meadows and distant mountains. She would imagine that the real world was down there, deep in the blue-green depths of the lake, while the world she inhabited was just a dream - an unhappy dream, from which she would soon awaken.
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