A Mark of Metal

⊱༻⸸☽︎𓅇☾⸸༺⊰

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Why the hell did I decide to rewatch season one of Buffy last night?

I pull my skirt securely over my waist, rushing downstairs, and turn the corner into the—

“Fuck!”

I slam my toe against the kitchen’s threshold, sending four toes one way and the poor last one the other, and hiss through my teeth, clutching my foot as I hop into the room.

The fridge hums softly as I limp over, still wincing, and yank it open. I shove the pre-made sausage rolls into my favourite purple picnic bag—Wait…Was I supposed to bring desserts instead? I freeze for a moment, then snap out of my thoughts to shut the bag. Too late now.

My eyes flicker to the small analogue clock on the wall, showing—

Ah shit.

I rush out of the kitchen, nearly tripping over the rug as I snatch my sandals and slide them on. As I straighten up, I instinctively look at the family portrait hanging by the door. My father’s soft smile, frozen in time, makes me slow my pace for a moment. The house hasn’t been the same since he died.

He had sickle cell anaemia, at least, that’s what the doctors called it. But no matter the number of transfusions he had, his cells never regenerated. It was as if his body had given up before he wanted to. And when he died, he took a part of mum with him. She would constantly bring up the childish stories my dad used to tell us about ‘magic, kings and duels’. My brother soon left after that, refusing to ‘entertain’ her delusions like I did. He always thought that forcing her to face reality would solve the problem. Instead, it shattered her. The realisation that her husband was truly gone and that she had pushed her children away broke her. She checked herself into a care home shortly after leaving me behind in this desolate, hollow home.

Trapped.

At least that’s what it feels like—like my life is falling apart and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I feel orphaned and distant from myself, my hobbies, my interests. I love history, but teaching bored fifteen-year-olds about medieval kings and customs isn’t cutting it. Maybe I should get into fantasy roleplay at the English Heritage events.

A sharp chime pulls me back, and I flip open my phone. Jesus, I’m so late.

Grabbing my keys, I chuck them into my bag, fling the door open, and sprint. By some miracle, I make it to the bus just in time, panting as I slap my fare onto the driver’s metal tray. I sink into a seat and press my forehead to the cool window, savouring the relief from the heat outside. After a moment, I pull back and use the time to neaten myself up. I comb the frizz out of my blonde hair and smooth my blue-patterned skirt. God, I hope I don’t run into any of my students. Not after they caught me on a date with the math teacher last week. Damn, cock-blockers.

Outside, my grey town drags past; it’s tired and stuck in a decade that’s long since moved on. Tower buildings of concrete slabs, graffiti-tagged bus stops, and drained people litter the ill town.

Hm, I thought John Major said we were supposed to grow the economy. Well, we’ll see what this Tony guy will do. God, I can’t believe it’s been a year since he was elected.

1998. This is the time when we’re supposed to be on the edge of something new, but here? This town? It’s the same as it’s always been. A place where people settle and dreams die. Like how frosted tips should be. Dead.

I need to get out of here. If it wasn’t for Mum being in that care home in town, I would’ve left a long time ago. But I can’t leave her. I will not let her feel alone as well.

My brooding thoughts disappear as the bus pulls into the station, and three familiar faces stand at the entrance.

Amelia, Ellie, and Mila.

They cross their arms with brows raised, staring at me from a distance. Yeah, yeah, I’m late. Get over it. I jog over to them and mutter a quick apology, and before long, we’re on our next bus, the chariot to our deliciously beautiful destination.

And I mean, delicious. Ellie brought Victoria sponge cake.

On the bus, we watch as the town shrinks behind us. The suffocating grey dissolves into a flowering plain of rolling hills, where dense woodland waits at the edge. When we finally step off, I breathe what feels like my first real breath. Ahhh, this is nature’s bliss! Sunlight filters through the tall oak trees, golden beams striking the ground like gateways to another world. We spread a blanket at the woodland’s edge, the scent of wildflowers and fresh air washing over us. A rabbit darts past now and then. I could stay here forever.

At this moment, it feels as though everything is right. A moment that feels like my father is alive, my mother is whole, and my brother never left.

The overwhelming sense of calmness and freedom arises as if I could lie dormant forever, just staring at the view as if the encapsulating beauty of the meadow is unconsciously draining me of all my worries and sensibilities. As though nothing matters in this view of flowing grass and colourful vegetation.

Turning my attention back to the group, I join in the laughter as Ellie pulls a tomato from her sandwich with a dramatic retch.

“Good for the soil,” I say, flinging my own into the long grass.

We all nod in agreement. ’Tomatoes are the people’s enemy. ’

“It’s nice that we can still do this.” Amelia smiles, chewing on one of the sausage rolls.

It is nice. Life has a way of pulling people apart, and work just seems to drown that. But we’re still here, and that’s nice.

Ellie, who is seemingly unable to sit still for more than five minutes, suddenly jumps to her feet. “Come on,” She grins, her face beaming with mischief. “Let’s go explore.”

And without a moment of hesitation, she’s off. Sprinting into the trees like she was thirteen again, not twenty-three.

For a moment, we pause. We’re adults now, we’re supposed to be calm and composed, mature women…

Screw it.

As if we all have the same thought, we leap up, hitching skirts and rolling up pant-legs. The trees rush past us as we sprint towards her. My lungs burn, and my muscles scream—God, I need to exercise more. Our laughter entangles at the sheer amusement of it all. Finally catching up to her, we collapse onto the forest floor, red-faced and breathless. For a moment, we lie still, gazing up at the sky veiled by the canopy of trees, letting the silence and shade settle over us.

Amelia sits up. “Should we go to the pond? I want to wash my hands.” She suggests to the group.

“Is that true, or are you going to pluck the reeds from the pond and chase us again?” Mila questions with her arms crossed, remembering our last visit to the pond.

Amelia just stares at her, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Uhh…I’m unwilling to answer that.” She adds before walking off in the direction of the pond.

“Let’s go. We deserve a little chaos before work ruins everything.” I add, pushing Mila and Ellie in the direction of the small body of water. Crap, I still have to mark those tests.

Along the way to the pond, we make sure to keep a safe distance from the edge of the path, where a sharp incline drops off on one side. It’s not a significant slope, yet it’s still slippery and steep enough that you could sprain an ankle or two. Never mind the dense shrubbery lining the incline and base that would most definitely cause a nasty bruise or cut.

So either way, it’s best to stick to the side of the path where flat ground borders it—not the steep drop that promises a bruising fall.

The line of trees on either side of the path begins to thin, revealing a small opening where a hidden pond rests, cradled by sparse reeds and soft grass. Amelia and Ellie rush ahead to wash the dirt and grime from their hands, while Mila and I stroll toward the water at a slower pace. I lift my skirt just above my knees and kneel on the dry earth, dipping my hands into the lukewarm water. Beside me, Mila does the same.

For a brief moment, serenity washes over me. I wonder if I should tell them about the accident Mum caused at the home...I can’t believe Ronan stole Dad’s diary. What did he even say to her? Piece of shit.

God, why would you even antagonise a woman with a schizoaffective disorder? It’s like he doesn’t care that Mum is ill.

Suddenly, cold water smacks the back of my head.

“Hehe, whoops…” Ellie sheepishly grins, her hands still dripping.

Oh, she’s dead.

I cup some water in my hands and lunge for her, but she shrieks and bolts, sprinting back towards the trees.

I close the distance and toss the water with a confident smirk… and miss entirely. However, I don’t mind much, as the chase was fun. Then it hits me. I have no weapons. No water. Nothing. I am completely defenceless against this lunatic. I stare at her blankly as she turns toward me, grinning with the most demented, devilish smile I have ever seen on a person.

Shit, run!

I squeal as I turn to run, ducking into the wooded surroundings to escape my foe. I find cover behind a tree, a distance away from the pond.

I take a moment to catch my breath, hands on knees, as I wait out Ellie’s attempts to find me. A faint sound ahead makes me freeze. Slowly, I peer out from behind the tree and spot a shadow darting past a small cluster of trees across the path. Holding my breath, I creep out and begin following the direction it took. Suddenly, a rustle shatters the silence. I spin around just in time to see the shadow disappear behind a tree. Idiot. I see you. Grinning, I shift direction and bolt toward it. I can already picture my victory in slow motion as I reach out, ready to catch Ellie by surprise—

The ground gives way, and the dense trees ahead suddenly vanish.

Time and comprehension slip from me as I cross the path and teeter on the edge of the slope. The shadow appears before my last stride as I lose the fight with gravity, and suddenly, time seems to slow. I turn to face the shadow that guided me to my eventual fall. Dad? Before I can process what I saw, my focus shifts to the steep incline ahead, thick with prickly shrubbery. I hit the ground, and the world moves in a blur of motion as I’m propelled down the slope to the forest floor.

I instinctively throw my arms up, shielding myself from sharp thorns, countless branches, and prickly plants as the world flips through the sky and earth. Then everything stops, and the air changes.

And through blurred vision, I see them.

A ring of white mushrooms, and then. Darkness…

Weightlessness, as if I’m floating on water. The feeling encapsulates my semi-conscious state.

It reminds me of a familiar sensation from my childhood, when my family and I would go to the local baths, and I would find enjoyment in drifting aimlessly on the surface of the pool. I felt as though I was completely unaffected by my own mass, a surreal moment of bliss and calmness.

Yet this feels different from that quaint sensation, more ominous...As if I had fallen into a hole I couldn’t quite reach out of. Or if I had tumbled into a place where my soul doesn’t wholly belong.

A feeling of dread and hopelessness fills me as my body lies bruised and battered on the now flat ground.