The Short Story Thread

[Dean from Australia]

Serrena

How did I get here?

The country house stands resplendent, overlooking a gently rolling meadow of lush green pasture, occupied by a smattering of dairy cows that are grazing lazily in the early morning sun.

I am on my hands and knees on a hillock, not far from the house. My fingers clutch at the wet pasture underneath. I am breathless, nauseous, sweating and my legs feel like jelly - as though I've just completed an intense sprint.

How did I get here?

One moment I was...well...I can't remember where I was before now. Was I sleeping? Was I indeed running? Did I fall over? Hit my head? My sluggish mind refuses to work. I feel something in my throat. A scratchiness - as if something is there - something foreign. I cough without making a sound. It is as though I never existed before this moment. Adrenaline courses through me, tendrils of panic begin to suffocate me. Desperately, I try to latch onto my reason. Groggily, I rise to my feet and I put my hands on my knees, close my eyes and breathe.

I draw in the sweet smelling air. It is moist, tinged with dew. Early morning Almost immediately, the tide of my panic loses purchase & retreats as I strengthen my grip. Calm floods through me & I open my eyes once more.

It is like something out of a Jane Austen novel, a quintessentially English countryside - beautifully picturesque. A meandering brook, lined by weeping willows & a tall oak tree, snakes though the middle of the meadow. I hear the water bubbling and broiling lazily, as if it is inside my head. This place is foreign to me, yet I have a sense of something innately familiar about it. The pasture is lush, greener than any pasture I've ever encountered before. The morning sun shining before me, rises slowly casting soft yellow hues across the meadow. Curiously, I feel no warmth coming off it.

Is this is a dream?

I slow my breathing further - calm fully restored now. I allow myself to take in my surroundings more attentively. This is definitely not a place I have been to before. I hear the sound a church bell somewhere in the distance. There is the sound of a lawn mower closer by, but as I turn my attention towards the house - the most obvious source - I do not see anyone resembling a gardener in view.

I appraise the country house. It is a noble, multi storey, red brick dwelling with perfectly manicured lawns, divided by a wide cobblestone promenade that runs right up to the steps of the house. The promenade is flanked by beautifully shaped conifers.

My curiosity replaces fear and I step forward, gingerly, realizing in that moment, that my feet are bare. I am wearing light cotton pyjama bottoms and a navy T-Shirt.

Confusion and bemusement.

What is going on here?

Down the hillock and across the meadow, I step cautiously, my feet squelching on the dewy grass. The dew begins to evaporate beneath my feet. Wisps of steam rise off the pasture. I approach the house cautiously. At first, it appears that there are no signs of life in the vicinity of the house. But as I put my hand up to open a large, white iron gate I hear sounds of laughter and chattering, the clinking of glasses coming from inside the house.

An incongruous image of a flock of flamingoes flashes across my eyes, but I will it away.

I make my way towards the grand front door of the house. It is clear that some sort of party is in progress - a breakfast of some sort perhaps.

I hesitate before the door, wondering if I should knock. This is all too weird to me. I raise my hand to knock, hesitate again then withdraw. Something tells me I should leave this place.

Before I can back away, the door clicks and opens and a kindly faced, elderly man appears.

He immediately smiles warmly at me.

"Oh good!" he exclaims, clearly pleased. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming"

I am too surprised to speak. All I can do is blink.

Do I know this man?

The gentleman immediately takes my arm and gently shepherds me up and into the lobby of the house.

I am confronted by a crowd of people who are assembled in a parlour-like lounge just in from entrance. The room is populated by exquisite furniture, dark timber fittings. There are paintings on the walls. Portraits of noblemen, dreamlike English landscapes. The guests moving about the parlour are dressed in the luxurious garments from that very Jane Austen period. Women in white, flowing gowns satin ribbons and delicate white gloves. Hair that has been coiffed and primped and decorated with flowers. The men are in jodphers and leather boots, navy jackets and ruffles. Everyone smiles and greets me warmly, raising their glasses as the gentleman announces my arrival.

They seem oblivious to my appearance and I frown visibly, confused by their generous greeting. I look down and flinch in shock.

My pyjamas have gone. In their place, I am wearing a gentleman's suit of clothes, like the other men in the room. Leather riding boots, cream colored riding pants, a generous, mustard colored jacket over a white shirt with frills that hang down from the neck and dove tail over my chest.

Panic threatens as I try to comprehend what is happening around me. But I am given little time to process my circumstance as the gentleman host gestures for me to join in the party.

I mingle among the guests, trying to get a sense of who they are and who they think I am, but their conversation gives no clue. A group of ladies who, evidently, think I am very popular draw me towards. However I immediately notice that their conversation is broken and incomprehensible, like the shards of a shattered mirror. I hear them speak the words but none of it makes sense. Eventually I am 'rescued' by a tall and elegant gentleman with a perfectly groomed moustache and I move to a group of gentlemen in another corner. They are smoking cigars and sipping brandy. I am given a glass of my own and the man who brought me over hands me a cigar. I hold it in my hand but do not light it. Here, again, I listen to the conversation, but it is nothing but gibberish - words that I understand but they are formed into sentences that make no sense at all.

I begin to feel frustrated, angry.

What am I doing here? What am I supposed to do?

I look about the parlour as casually as possible, scanning the guests, looking for the gentleman host. In the far corner, among a group a young and beautiful woman, one of their number is looking at me.

I am instantly struck.

She is tall, willowy, with flowing auburn hair, delicate ringlets fall on either side of her porcelain cheeks. Her large and haunting eyes drill into mine and I feel a jolt of electricity as I lock my eyes with hers. One corner of her lips twitches upwards. She smiles demurely at me from across the room.

Out of the chaotic, incomprehensible conversation that surrounds me, her presence affords an unprecedented clarity. I turn towards her & make my way through the crowd, instantly arousing excited chattering from her pretty companions.

As I approach, her companions fall back & she steps towards me gracefully. She is holding a champagne flute in her hands, from which she sips.

She smiles flirtatiously as I stop before her.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asks in a precise British accent. I am instantly relieved to be able to understand somebody - anybody - in this room.

"I'm not used to large crowds" I reply cautiously, searching for the right words to enter the dialogue as casually as possible. "Especially in a place I'm not familiar with"

Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Oh come now," she scolds coquettishly. "You've no need to pretend with me.

You've been coming here for years. Every summer holiday, since you were a small boy"

I search within for some remembrance of any occasion I've spent here. There are none.

She must have me confused with someone else.

"Are...we...supposed..."

I am unable to finish my question. Flashes of light erupt before my eyes & needles of white hot pain assault me instantaneously, then disappear as if they have never been. Through the flashes, I see images of her face before me. We are walking in the meadow outside the house. We are laughing & chatting. We are holding hands. We stop underneath an oak tree where we kiss softly, lingering in each others arms. Then, we are laying together in a bedroom, naked. We are holding each other, skin to skin, making love before a crackling fire in an old fireplace in the corner of a room. The glow of the flames dance across her body. Then, I see her, astride a mighty stallion, preparing to ride away from me, a stiff breeze whips at a long scarf around her neck, threatening to pull it from her completely.

The flashes stop abruptly and once again, I am back in the parlour. But I am completely alone. No one is here, not even her.

Confusion again.

The gentleman host taps my shoulder and I wheel around to face him.

"Come on," he cajoles me, leading me through the parlor & the central hall of the house to the back door. "Everyone is waiting. Come outside and ride my horse for me"

We step out through the back door and onto the rear lawn of the grounds. The guests from inside have gathered on the grass, some distance from the house before a group of six horses, five of which have riders astride them. A man holds the reigns of a sixth steed, a beautiful chestnut mare - the same mare from my flashes of imagery.

Evidently, I have been invited to participate in a horse race. A single long course has been prepared beyond the rear fence of the country house. As I walk out among the group of guests, I search the gathering for her & find her standing with her friends once more, a little way off from the rest of the guests. She does not acknowledge me as I approach the animal. I pause to look at her - the cacophony of images of us together echoing in my memory - her expression is like stone. It is devoid of emotion. As though I'm not even there.

It chills me.

I turn to the horse. It's large eyes focus upon me & widen as I step forward. Without warning, the steed issues a guttural screech & rears up on it's hind legs, tearing the reins from it's handler who panics & furiously shoos me away. The mare kicks & bucks wildly, planting it's hooves into the ground before me, leaving deep impressions there. I look down to find blood bubbling up from them, staining the pasture. It's screeches pierce my ears & I reflexively block them with my hands.

I back away from the frightened animal, into the throng of guests who back away from me simultaneously with thinly veiled disgust. They fix me with disapproving glares, shaking their heads slowly. I feel the pressure of their distaste for me, weighing me down, making my movements sluggish again. A gout of nausea erupts in the pit of my stomach. Acid creeps up my gullet, burning at the back of my throat.

The gentleman host is suddenly beside me. An expression of sympathy in his kindly features gives me a momentary comfort. He takes my arm firmly, but gently & leads me away from the group.

"Come on son. Come to the house. It wasn't to be"

I look for her in the gathering of guests. I find her & am stung. She is looking at me through anguished, tear filled eyes. Hurt dictates her posture - something akin to betrayal and my heart aches with the shame for that which I have not done. I try to go to her but the gentleman host won't let me go. His grip is too strong.

All at once, the brilliance of the colors of the meadow around us fade & turn a ruddy grey. The lush green of the pasture, the foliage in the tress, it wilts as though someone has taken a bucket of dirty water & splashed it over everything. The warmth of the yellow hues from the sun become a stark & garish white, causing shadows from the house, the trees and the contours of the meadow to lengthen and take on a foreboding malevolence. A coarse wind whips up. It stings my cheek. Dark clouds gather across the sky which choke the sun, choke the light.

Fingers of tightness begin to wrap themselves around the inside of my chest & I struggle once more to draw breath. The gentleman host leads me up the stairs and into the house where he gently deposits me into a lounge chair in the parlour. He leaves the room.

Waves of panic roll towards my shore, gathering height and breadth, overwhelming my senses, threatening to tear me asunder. I look down at my hands. They are quivering uncontrollably; I shake them furiously, trying to rid them of their incapacity. My heart thuds in my ears, softly at first, then louder & louder on the back of rolling thunder that creeps across the sky outside the house.

What is happening?

I squeeze my eyes shut in a vain attempt to refocus, to try & close out the chaos. When I open them, I jump in my seat. The guests have filled the parlour once more. They are all standing around my chair staring directly at me. Their expressions are blank, lifeless. They betray no emotion. All of them hold the shattered remnants of their champagne flutes by the stem. Ruby red blood drips from their hands, curls around the broken glass & falls to the floor.

She kneels before me now. Her delicate fingers have intertwined in my own and she holds them tight. Her anger and disgust have gone. Love and warmth radiate from her & it washes across my being, colliding with my fractured state, beating the waves back relentlessly. Chaos & anarchy hold on, refusing to give ground, but they are rendered impotent by her strength. The thunder collapses. It is reduced to a low thrum, a distant protest, then nothing. The howling wind is consumed. Quiet is restored. All that remains is the soft, slow beating of my heart. I gaze at her; feel her glow. She has salvaged me.

Suddenly, from outside the house, a chilling, animal scream erupts through the gulf of silence, rattling the glass panes of the parlour windows, threatening to shatter them. Every single guest in the parlour gasps without making a sound. Every hand relinquishes its grip on the champagne flutes. They shatter to the blood stained floor.

There is a guttural gurgling that follows for several seconds after the scream dissipates & the sound of something breathing heavily, forcing air noisily through it's nostrils.

I move as though I am underwater. Releasing my grip on her fingers reluctantly, I struggle in the chair, eventually rising to my feet. I am no longer dressed in the clothes of a gentleman. Instead, I am wearing a ripped & torn navy T-Shirt and blood spattered pyjama bottoms.

She & I go to the front door of the house. The gentleman host follows. Together, we step out onto the stoop. The gathering clouds have blotted out the sun completely. Harsh shards of light pierce through the cloud cover, striking silently upon the ground. The meadow has completely disappeared now. The landscape has transformed from soft, rolling pastures to harsh rocky scrub. Brittle trees. Spinifex grass. Quartz topped boulders. There is dust everywhere.

My love is beside me, tightly holding onto my arm.

The bone chilling scream shatters the tranquility again, shaking me to my bones. I search desperately for the source of the sound. It seems to be coming from all around. My eyes flick to my right, just in time to see a huge African elephant thundering towards the house in a full gallop. It bobs its head, as charging. Its long tusks scrape the earth, causing sparks to fly off agates of exposed quartz. Blood seeps heavily from a ragged gunshot wound in it's left ear. It is a gaping hole through which, I can see daylight.

Time slows...

The elephant slowly thunders past me, it's monstrous form eclipsing the sun. There are grievous wounds all over it's back & down over it's flank. Blood drips freely from them, staining it's hide. The broken ends of long poles - spears perhaps - jut outward from some of those wounds, quivering in the air. The elephant swings it's damaged trunk, similarly injured by heinous wounds, as it passes by and rounds a bend, disappearing from view.

My jaw falls slackly open in unmitigated horror. I cannot breathe, the scene before me has sucked all the air from my lungs. I cannot comprehend what I have just witnessed.

Once again, for a third time, the demonic animal scream assaults my ears. I am momentarily confused, thinking that it was coming from the elephant.

But it is not.

Hooves strike the gravel & rock. Air blows through flared equine nostrils, the metal components of a bridle clink loudly. The chestnut mare hoves into view, galloping crazily towards me, veering sickeningly from side to side, completely out of control.

Time slows...

I am transfixed by the mare. Like the elephant before her, she has angry welts, vicious cuts all over her back. They weep blood, which falls to the earth - a trail left behind her. My horror is complete. Everything moves in slow motion, the galloping mare, her breath, visible in the air around her snout. Her head is in shadow as she approaches me. I notice she is shaking her head in panic, as if trying to dislodge some sort of irritant.

And then I see why.

The mare passes in front of me, out of shadow, into full view. Her eyes have been hollowed out. I can see clear through to the other side - ragged fleshy cavities are all that remain. Blood streams down over her snout, where some has clotted and hangs in string like crude vestiges, drying in the air.

I fall to my knees on the stoop of the country house. I want to vomit but I can't. My loves hand falls to my shoulder while, her other hand rises to cover her mouth. Grief floods through both of us as the stricken steed careens into to the trunk of a tree, glancing off it violently before continuing on it's crazed trajectory, away from the country house.

My paralysis consumes me. The sky grows dark. Angry forks of lightning pierce the black clouds. Night falls like a blanket over everything. The scream of the mare rings hollow in my head, taunting me as it grows distant, ever distant. My throat burns and I choke on something foreign that wasn't there before. I can no longer see...

I am falling through an inky blackness, tumbling and falling. I try to open my eyes but I can't. Beams of light puncture the darkness momentarily, blinding me. I hear the screeching of tires on a wet road, as though they are far away from me. Headlights splash across a country house. The desperate sound of an air horn. The scream of an animal.

And then I land on something soft - a bed? Motion ceases. Sound ceases. Everything ceases.

I try once more to open my eyes and, with a supreme effort I prevail.
A bed. A dark room. Soft lights. The sounds of beeping - methodical, rhythmic beeping.

Sounds of mechanical breath. A tube of some sort hangs right in front of my face &, through the subsequent haze I become aware of, I realize the tube is going into my mouth, down my throat. A hand holds mine. Delicate fingers entwined in my own. Slowly, I blink. A crusty grit is in my eyes.

I turn my head slightly, slowly.

She is here, sitting beside the rail of my hospital bed. Love & warmth radiate from her eyes that are filled with tears. I look at her and try to speak, but she gently 'ssshhes' me and raises her other hand to stroke my brow.

An man steps into my field of view, coming up beside my love. A kindly faced, elderly man. He wears a white coat. A stethoscope hangs around his neck. He holds a clipboard under his arm.

My eyes widen in a false recognition, panic assails me again and I try to speak. But the breathing tube down my gullet prevents me from doing so.

I am in a hospital?!

The doctor leans down, close to my love and speaks softly into her ear. I crane my neck to hear what he says.

"I'm very sorry M'am. I've just had word..."

My grief & my anguish are absolute.

"...The mare did not survive"

DFA.