Friday, September 01, 2006

All For a bit of China


She had a disaster on her hands, something that she never anticipated, she hated china, and she didn’t know how to get rid of it. Now this girl, happened to be called Sarah, had dumped the body of her sister in the local zoo’s piranha pool after watching a programme on National Geographic channel entitled Piranha - A Swim with Death. It was a fascinating documentary on the terror those fish could enact. She had been one clever girl, Sarah led the police to believe that her sister was floating below Heron's lake, a fiesta of activity exploded not long after she called down to the local police station and reported her sister missing. The crowds of volunteers that followed drowned out the lapping sounds of water; they swarmed around swirls of whirl pools on the blue lagoon. Though Sarah wasn't formed and born during or around the same time as her presumed missing sister they looked a like at times. They both had a curly mop of yellow hair, blue beach eyes, red dimpled cheeks to match a freckled heart shaped face. She made sure that her sister had been dead for fourteen days before reporting her disappearance. With her red booted feet bouncing over the wet wild marsh she led men to her sister's favourite spot under a hunched, green weeping willow tree with a treasure chest with evidence to link her disappearance to Tom a local boy who played soccer for the town of Vilford, and who she had seen asking for seconds of wafers during mass. One couldn't miss his unkempt black head of hair that always seemed to drop over his eyes and play with his ears. There was a card drawn in red and blue crayons that opened up to a Tom loves Susan note. Though the note was crude and childish for the constable bought it and subsequently arrested Tom after he had finished eating his pickled ham and cheese sandwiches and downing a bottle of Diet Lucozade. After searching Tom's house certain incriminating items were found, a pink thong, a white blouse of Susan's that had a pool of blood on the neck collar. This blood was assumed to be that of Susan's. Now Sarah had thought everything out. She had gone to her sister’s room and while she was sleeping reached out to the figure that was under her dreamy blankets caught her by her throat and wrapped her long arm around her and squeezed. Now the noise of someone choking made Sarah smile, not that she had heard it before, though she discovered a brown flea ridden dog once that was choking on a chicken bone. She sat next to it listening to the coughing, the whining, and the deep inhaling for air. After watching this occurrence she kicked the dog in the wind pipe with her brown leather shoes she saved up to buy from Clarks that shoe shop on the high street. The dog died instantly. She thought of the dog when she strangled Susan, Susan was a dog, like a stupid whiny dog, she deserved no better. She got the china, the linen; the tradition of mother to daughter was passed down to her not to Sarah. That upset her, made her angry and throw a little hissy fit. After days of searching, the men, who had grown fed up with coffee refills and cold sausage rolls, asked for a break so they could get some sleep and catch up on the latest sports results. The break was granted though the police kept on searching the area, finding nothing. Sarah smiled a wide evil grin as she sat on the teak kitchen table eyeing all the china and clean clothes she had emptied out of the cupboards, she had to take a look at what was now hers, passed down as a tradition from mother to daughter. Suddenly it dawned on her that it wasn’t passed down at all but the tradition was stolen. It was an empty reward. She hated bone china and white linen, the sooner she could get rid of it, the better. The more she looked at the little white cups and saucers the more revolted she got. Picking up a saucer she tossed it across the air and watched it smash into little pieces across the floor. A cup smashed, then another cup followed by a saucer. When all this was done she realised she had a right mess on her hands. She had been the bad daughter, the one that dyed her hair black, though dyeing ones hair black doesn’t mean bad, but it meant a wild streak. Mother would always be sure to tell her, “You can never do anything right!” And so she never did anything right, or tried not, so when hearing that she would get no mother to daughter rewards it came as no surprise, but just to enact revenge she decided to kill her sister for the china and clothes, it was like getting her mother by the throat and killing her, and her sister was the next best thing. She put her mother’s face on her dying sister when she strangled her imagining all the groundings, all the lecturers, all the evil looks of supposed love.

It was dark now, the round moon was full bloomed and gleaming a silky, silver glow over the lake. A little boathouse was covered in a muddle of boats that had been used in the search, now that search had been called off. A lone figure slipped out of the shadows and made her way down to the water dipping her naked feet into the cold late April water. She was going for a swim - the longest swim in the world. She was only wearing a flimsy white armless night gown, one of those clean items of clothes that passed down to daughter. She slipped in going deeper and deeper until her face was caught up in the shimmering moonlight just enough to see a tear as her head disappeared under the lake.

When sunlight came no one suspected that a girl had disappeared somewhere under deep Heron's lake.

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