8. Away

 

Away, away. The wind whistled through the tree beside Tegan’s window, calling her from her slumber. She lay still for a moment and listened to her father’s rhythmic snores echo through their derelict home. No, she corrected herself, it hasn’t been home since Mum died. She reached her hand out and felt her sister’s warm skin against her own. The cuts and bruises were less obvious when the lights were out but still she felt them, for she had spent countless nights awake, tracing her fingers across her own battle scars.

Before despair transformed her into a wreck, Tegan shook Casey’s arm, and whispered into the darkness “It’s time, Case. Let’s go. Let’s get away.”

Away, away.

Though her eyes were half closed with sleep, Casey rose quietly; as though she had expected Tegan’s sudden plea for release. They packed hastily – neither speaking – and were soon swallowed by the night, carried upon the wind’s whisper.

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5 thoughts on “8. Away

  1. I do think Chapman is a great writer with a real heart. (& she has the advantage over us with her musical prowess.)

    Where better to seek your inspiration for your lovely story of cuts & bruises Jasmine; both seen & unseen. There are things best left unsaid.
    Short & sweet.
    Cheers, ic

    1. Yes, I haven’t listened to her music in years. I never really heard or thought of the lyrics she was singing: they truly are very powerful politically.

      Thanks a lot.
      Jasmine

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