Authors: Colin Wraight
Danny
came up gasping for air. The freezing cold sea had physically knocked every ounce of strength and oxygen out of his defenseless body. The boat had gone and with it his only chance for survival. He frantically looked around for something to hold on to, but there was nothing.
The waves swelled in size. A crazed chaotic monster intent on his destruction. He knew he would be dead soon. Acceptance dawned; as yet another wave crashed over his body and smashed him against the rocks.
***
The old man carefully picked his way along the craggy rock strewn path. The same route, he had walked his dog for the past eight years.
"Come on Lady
." He shouted, tired
of his dogs incessant need to sniff around everything in sight. He stopped to get his breath back and let the old dog catch up, a Labrador cross she was getting on in her years, as was her master. He waited a couple of minutes then headed back down the cliff path. "Come on lass... Where are you?" He growled, anger now taking over from concern. "I should have blasted well
put you
down years ago."
He suddenly heard his dog barking somewhere on the distant beach.
"Come here ye' little bastard!" He shrieked. "What in gods name are you barking at?"
Then he saw it, a body laying half hidden amongst the rocks. "Get out of there lass." He rushed forward taking little care as he
stepped from rock to rock almost
slipping on the green slime which clung
to everything
like glue
. The body was that
of a man, his face was bloodied and bru
ised, he wore a long coat
dripping wet and bloodstained and his legs disappeared at the knees under a mixture of bubbly green slime, sea weed and salt water.
The old man
slowly reached forward and gently touched the strangers neck feeling for the slightest sign of a pulse, at the same time he raised the eyelids and watched as the pupils evenly responded to light.
"At least you alive son, but I don't know for how long." He had lived in this part of Ireland long enough to know that the tide would soon return for a second feasting on its victim.
Gathering his strength, the old man pulled the casualty up into a sitting position and then began dragging him out of harms reach. It was as difficult as he thought it would be. Sweat flowed freely down his head and gathered at his chin, before splashing onto the strangers head. Stopping for a rest, he rolled his head skyward taking in great mouthfuls of air.
Preparing himself once again for the struggle, he took the weight of the body and heaved backwards,
but
there was something wrong the body seemed to be jammed between the rocks. He pulled even harder this time with every ounce of strength but it was of no use, something was stuck. Fighting to half roll the man over, he saw the problem straight away. A weapon of some kind
which was
attached to the mans body
by an harness
had wedged its self under a large boulder.
A glance seaward made him panic. The tides relentless advance continued. It took a good few minutes to free the weapon and by now the water was lapping around the casualties chest. After what seemed like an eternity of struggle, he had his man half way up the cliff above the tide line.
Leaving him in the recovery position, he set off up the cliff taking his dog with him. He would return later with his car and collect the stranger.
***
She remembered the soaking rain and the terrible darkness. She remembered the hand which had come out of that darkness, a wet hand. She had taken it and clung tight fearing that the bad man may have caught up with her. His image filled her mind with such terror nothing else settled there. So she had withdrawn, taken not to thinking, not to speaking. Non exist
ence seemed the key to survival, if she didn’t exist then he wouldn’t find her
She had woken some time the next morning
warm and dry, wearing differ
ent
clothes.
Sahra held a teddy bear tight
ly
,
one
which the woman from the night before must have given her.
Suddenly the woman came into the room. “Good morning.” She said
in German
and smiled brightly.
Sahra instinctively hid behind
the bear nervously shielding her
face with
a shaking
hand.
“Can’t you speak child.” The cold blue eyes of the woman stared icily down at Sahra then she pursed her lips as if waiting for something.
Sahra stared
back
, this woman scared her.
“Yes.” She whispered into the fur of the bear.
"Yes
....
Yes
what?" She snapped then there was a pause, and the woman answ
ered her own question. “Mother..!
” She leaned down and snatched the bear which made Sahra jump with fright.
“You call me Mother.”
Suddenly
the
image of the woman Sahra
once called mummy
flashed across
her minds eye, a memory of perfumes and parks of swings and slides. It lasted less than a second.
The woman hid the bear behind her back. "Speak child. What’s your name?”
She remained silent
and still
.
“I said you will speak. If you can’t tell me your name then I shall have to give you one.”
Silence
“Then I shall name you
..!” She pursed her lips and thought for several seconds. “Claudia! I shall call you Claudia.
”
Said the woman and stuffed the teddy bear back in Sahra’s hand.
That name struck a chord, a memory of parks and slides, of perfume; Of
…
Of M
ummy.
"I want my Mummy!" Sahra
s
creamed no longer able to contain hers
elf. "I want to go home
!
Take me home.
"
A stinging slap across the face sent the pitiful child reeling across the room into a large
half dead
cheese plant. Both collapsed in a tangled mess on the floor.
"
You are home!
"
The woman barked. "I found you and now you belong to me!
"
Sahra dared to gaze up through her tear filled eyes. The woman was support
ing herself on the back of a settee
, she was shakin
g and seemed confused. Sahra
took the opportunity to
untangle herself
from the plant, dash past the woman and run upstairs, not
stopping
until she reached
the top step
, and then
she turned, sat down and hugged the bear. “Please take me home!” She pleaded. “My Mum and Dad will be getting worried now.”
“Oh don’t you worry about them!” She said looking up at Sahra. “I’m going to find a new family for you… One with plenty of money! Money for me…”
As the days slowly past her by Sahra learned the hard way to keep quiet and behave herself. She learned to call the woman ‘mother’ and to watch out for her sudden violent outbursts. Making a dash for a door that turned out to be locked had been her worst mistake, earning her a severe beating.
Food seemed to be in short supply and Sahra was constantly thirsty. It was after two days of no food at all that Mother let Sahra out of her room.
“Someone is coming to view you, tidy yourself up and comb your hair.” She said and handed Sahra an half rotten apple. “Try to look less hungry..!” And then looking anxiously at her watch the woman added. “I need to go out for a while... Don’t try anything! “
"Oh please can I come
... Please, please can I come?" Shrieked Sahra already making plans to run away as soon as the
front
door was open
ed
. She would run to a police station and tell them her real name and where she lived, then she would be safe.
“I won’t try to run away or anything! I’ll be good, I promise.”
The woman
made Sahra wear a wooly hat and scarf that hid most of her face
and as she opened the door she gripped
her hand
tight
ly.
She seemed to know Sara’s plan
,
as if she could look deep
into her mind. The walk was on
ly to the local Post office, n
ot very far at all really, but she enjoyed every second of it. A crisp winters morning, even though the sky was blue there was a light covering of snow on the ground.
There were lots of people waiting for the shop to open. The chatter was loud and Sahra could only make out bits and pieces. Soon the chit chat died down and to Mothers horror, two old ladies became interested in Sahra.
"Hello." Said the nearest of the two
and smiled
. "What’s your name?"
"Claudia." She lied, but it was better than getting a slap later.
The older one lent down hard on her walking frame
and frowned at her friend
.
“We haven’t seen you before have we?”
Sahra shook her head and nervously glanced at mother.
“She’s me granddaughter..! Just visiting for a few days.”
"
And w
hat did Father Christmas bring you this year?"
Sahra was speechless she h
adn’t
notice the passing of Christmas. Mother suddenly squeezed Sara’s hand so tight, that it hurt
and she had to stop herself from crying out
.
"He brought you a bike, didn’t he dear?"
Sahra glanced up at mother and understood the look in her eyes
"Ye... yes a nice bike."
The
doors suddenly opened and the queue lunged
forward
. Sahra could hear the clink clink of coins on the pavement
as
someone dropped their purse.
They were rolling everywhere, and then a
small piece of square paper
landed by her right foot, she knew it was a stamp by the perforated edges. No one, not even Mother saw her
reach down,
scoop it up and plunge it deep into her pocket.
Soon she was being almost dragged home. Mother seemed angry for some reason and Sahra knew she had to do something or risk being locked in the stinking toilet again or even worse.
"I'm sorry..!
Mummy, have I done something wrong?"
Mother smiled, the word ‘Mummy’ had touched a nerve. "No Claudia
dear
." She said and slowed her pace.
"May I draw when we get home?
I could draw you and me?
"
"Ofcourse you can dear
?" She couldn't believe Claudia had said
the word
'home'.
"
I used to draw all the time... B
efore
…
"
"
Why don’t you s
how me a
t home?
"
Mother interrupted. “Perhaps I have some paper and crayons somewhere.”
"Goody, goody!
" Sahra cried.
"Home at last." Mother
declared brightly
. "Now you can draw whatever you want."
Sahra looked up at the house; it seemed different to all the others on the street, somehow darker. The garden wasn't as well kept as the others and rubbish from an overflowing dustbin lay scattered in and around the long grass. The hedges at the front hadn't been cut for a long time and were half dead anyway with large sections missing.