INTRODUCTION
I dreaded the light streaming in through my bedroom doorway. I kept my light off in an attempt to hide from the demons, my head buried beneath the ruffled sheets. I spot a flicker of red as he shines his pentagon about the lit corridor and slithers in through my doorway. I'm at his mercy. There is no where to hide as the re-occurring nightmare begins again. I am fraying. My tears break as I squint into the darkness, acting dormant in my consciousness. I roll towards the wall, shedding oceans silently, wishing inaudibly to god's open ears. It feels as if no one cares, I'm trapped. I'm all alone. Bound and gagged within a cell. I can't break free as my melody shatters the glass panes of another shred of innocence. I wait anxiously for someone to see me, but no one does.
BRANCH ROAD
I remember the court so vividly. Even now just the thought of it conjures visions of laughing in the sun shine, eagerly climbing elm trees and sweet, brightly coloured popcorn static in my palm. I remember the neatly self-contained units strategically placed one after the next, bound together by a grass circle in its centre. It was the heart of the court, its core, and yet it was just a roundabout. Flourishing young elm trees kissed the nature strips as they brought upon us summer, winter, autumn and spring. Our days where filled with laughter, tears and the promise that tomorrow and the next day, and the day after that would bare our souls within the soil.
I remember my fifth birthday party. I am wearing a pink and white checked dress, frilled above the ankle. The shoulders are ruffled and add two full inches, as was the style back then. My stockings are a thick ply and clean white. They compliment my petal decorated pink sandals. I liked the sound of the buckles on my sandals clinking as I walked, a fond reminder of a carousel that once sang me to sleep. I had sat at my tiny tot table in the days before as my mother sat sewing the dress; her contribution to my special day and a memory I would hold dear for a lifetime longer. It stuck in my mind as the years went on as did the hand crafted tot table and chairs my grandfather had lovingly toiled over, one for each of his two girls; myself and Jezebel. Mine was painted peach to match my bedroom de-core and Jezibel's was pink for the same reason. This was a traditional labor of love. Granddad, with his agile hands was an expert crafts man. He was a cabinet maker by trade and spent hours in his vintage workshop constructing pieces of pure heart from blocks of exceptional wood. I remember his hands. Like any other sizable man he had considerably large hands, dilapidated from the stress of dissimilar grains of wood. He'd tap on the kitchen table, rolling his fingers from pinky to thumb and would hum a familiar tune from his former life in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />England. There he found love and all the insatiable earthbound indulgences one man could hope for. But his fairytale ending is another story.
Granddad had many gifts. He made things, he created things and he drew like an angel. My family (myself included) blame him for the artistic talents passed down to some of us. My grandmother would always say to me "you got that from your granddad!" as I scribbled away into my own little fantasy land where nothing was impossible. I don't remember exactly when I started drawing and writing so I'm assuming I was born with a pencil in my hand. My mother's talents were various and unfailing. She was accepted into the best cooking school in England before she immigrated to Australia with her parents at the age of 17 and left of all of England behind. Putting that misfortune behind her she decided to become a cake decorator and alongside that she could draw exquisite crinoline ladies and make me delicious dolly dresses.
Mum was a good drawer, cake decorator and right now; a seamstress. I watched as mum sat pondering her next move, reading from a dress pattern. She labored over a thin piece of cotton, sewing machine concentrated on a collage of stitches. I remember her fitting it to my waste and hips, pinning the sides and the satisfied grin on her face when the gown took shape. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Him' walked in. He kissed my mother and handed me a very large, extravagant present. Mum told me to put it in the lounge room so that I could open all my presents together when everyone arrived.
It was customary in our little court to walk into each others homes without announcing our presence, rather keep the element of surprise working for us. You could say that the court was so friendly, so inviting that we had an open door policy'. Everyone was best friends with everyone knew what was going on in their neighbors lives. All the children of the court were around the same age and we all got along very well which, made walking us to school an easy task; parents taking in turns, leaving more time during the week for themselves.
To our surprise, Sunny walked in and yelled "Happy Birthday Lise!" at the top of her lungs. She was a very tall woman, intimidating in fact when your five years old. She handed me a small brightly wrapped gift and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Her youngest son Allan followed her to the kitchen whilst Kenny (her eldest child) stayed behind to inspect my gift. "I know what it is! I know what it is!" he taunted as I snatched it off him and placed it with my other gift in the lounge.
Not long after that, the others arrived; Kat (also my age) and her older sister Tez, Melly and Jezibel. Melly and Kat had been my best friends in the court since I arrived. We were living so close together and were always together, whether at my house or theirs that we had joked previously that we wished we were sisters, as children do. Funnily enough, my mother and Rosie had also become good friends. Their equally tiresome struggle through life as a single parent inspired a strong friendship, each knowing the turmoil of their previous relationship and what its like to raise a daughter alone. That is when mum had one of her most deliberate brain waves!
Uncle Telly had been through a rough time since the migration to England, missing his old life and friends. He shut himself off from the world and mum saw an opportunity. Mum quickly introduced Telly and Rosie, playing match maker, cupid's arrows hitting both of the appropriate parties. Rosie told me it was about two weeks into the relationship when they began to talk about marriage, the two already head over heals in love. This was undoubting one of the greatest love stories of our time. They announced their engagement not a year later which, to our surprise would make me and Melly cousins and therefore family.
We were so excited at the prospect!
How many childhood phantasms like this come true? I know it was fate.
As I bounced about the kitchen excitedly, ready to devour the lollies mum had set out hours prior Rosie and Telly arrived, hand in hand. They remained desperately close all day so as not to allude to any misconceptions. A massive bowl full of coloured popcorn perched on an oval shaped table in the kitchen smelt rich with sugar. However, I was still on a quest for lollies which, I had been sworn away from until everyone arrived. Sweet fragrances drifted into the poignant barbequed air as an influx of aromas sung out loudly. It's a party!
Children flew about the yard barefoot and Jezibel and I were as we always were, cousins but almost sisters. The comradery was apparent and flourished in these early days of endless exuberance. The almost desolate backdrop of a summer's landscape collected in our throats as we drank from styrophome cups filled with fizzy yellow. The mood was imminent as Melly and Jezibel began to argue over whose turn it was next to ride the seesaw with me. That's when Curt, Rich and Sean arrived. The three boys were the product of Him's' previous relationship and now, my new unrelated step brothers. Curt initiated a game of kiss chasie. This was an obvious choice back then. Although it seemed the only people playing were Melly and Curt, another obvious occurrence as the two tended to flirt needlessly whenever they got together. Jezibel and I were free to spin and bounce on the seesaw. It was a novelty not only because I had a seesaw but because my seesaw not only bounced up and down but spun 360 degrees as well. The seesaw didn't last long as it was the cause of numerous injuries and mum thought it best to get rid of it altogether. However amusing, we lost interest and abandoned the seesaw for the sand pit.
Rosie cheeked and speckled sweetly, Jezibel buried me in the sand. My knees chuckled sporadically, unearthing her solid work and she whimpered with frustrated tulip lips. A stern play set was crawling with children. Kat hung off the rings as Melly, Allan and Kenny took turns on the double swing.
The strangest of karma struck. Fun became a shadow on the green lawn as we, barefoot, continued to play. One by one tears collected in my friends eyes. One by one children began to run inside, hobbling on one leg, holding the other. I ignored the spectacle and kept on playing until it happened to me. I felt a slight twinge in my foot. I looked down and saw nothing. Then the pain hit me! I sat in the grass, turned my foot over to reveal a bee hanging out of the bottom of my foot. I screamed. I cried. I ran inside like the others. All the children at my fifth birthday party had been stung, in the foot by a bee! As karma had it, it was my birthday so I was the last to be stung. I guess there was a lesson there. Wear your shoes. But I didn't learn it that day. I continued to enjoy barefoot play.