Trading with Death (2 page)

Once I’d
backed a good distance away, I turned and started walking. Not as
fast as I think I used to be able to walk because a tightness
across my chest stopped me from taking in enough air but at least
it was easy to follow the track, although I’d have liked it more if
Grandma had come with me. It was much further than I thought and
mid-way I had to stop for a rest and another coughing fit. My lungs
bled internally again and I spat out the red. Dalvar never told me
before that with each convulsion and splat of blood she felt she
slipped further away, but now we both knew.

Up ahead the
track opened out a little. I must be coming to the edge. Thank
goodness; I’d be home soon. I passed an enormous, fallen tree,
misshapen, twisted by a lightning strike they said; an unmistakable
landmark. My heart turned cold and I stared and stared at it. I
took a few more steps, my feet stumbling and found myself back in
the middle of the woods. Grandma stood where I had left her and the
shadow hovered on the margin of the trees, just as before.

This time, the
shadow shifted and its voice sounded in my head.

“We made a
deal. Did you think you could escape so easily?”

Part Four

The mat of
fallen needles cushioned my knees as I sank to the ground and I
pressed my forehead into that old, fallen tree and breathed in its
musty odour. With my eyes closed I became aware of scurrying insect
life within the log and could hear a tumult of scritch-scatching as
hundreds of little bodies rushed backwards and forwards. I began to
understand how Dalvar remained calm regardless of the circumstances
surrounding her; something to do with her awareness being fixed on
a view so different and so much deeper than my own. The fullness of
life within the log was compelling, almost enchanting and made my
old level of awareness seem flat and dull by comparison. Being
Dalvar was not at all as I had imagined.

How long I
remained there, it’s difficult to tell. I could have drifted all
day, could have lost myself forever only a sudden thought flashed
clear in my mind; wait a minute, was there another Dalvar somewhere
else? One who looked like Taka and was right now discovering
my
former reality. Perhaps she had already reached home?
Would she have run there, delighting in her new-found, physical
abilities? I hoped so. I turned my face to the side and pressed my
cheek into the log. Now I had a clear view of the brooding presence
of the “Shadow”. A deal, it had said. Now what deal might that
be?

The part of me
that was Taka stayed silent because she knew the answer and I had
to pry it from her with care because I knew it was a dearly-kept
secret. Eventually, I saw the way my sickness drove my sister to
her knees, made her beg in all directions for someone, for
something
, to take it from me. Even to a point of
desperation where she had been willing to trade places with me and
give me her own health in exchange. Oh no, Taka, you should never
have wished that, not with all your heart, because you see,
something did hear you, something did respond, the question was,
what? I stared at the Shadow and pushed myself upright.

“What manner
of
thing
are you?”

The Shadow
flexed; dark smoke shifting and reforming. The Taka in me was
afraid and trembled to her core but she seemed very far away. I
took a moment to check back to Kasia’s visit; recalling only the
fall and before that skipping along the hall to climb onto the
sunny sill, whilst the others chatted in the kitchen. Then I stared
at the Shadow, beyond fear as I, Dalvar, have always been. I
suppose that was one of the gifts of my illness.

I felt like
stamping my foot. “What manner of thing are you? Now answer
me.”

It was Grandma
who replied, “You know its name already, my dear,” and she came to
me and whispered in my ear, “it has many names, but we call it
‘Death’.”

Part Five

I stared at
the shifting shadows of Death. Not my friend and not my enemy, I
had always known that Death plays by its own rules, dances to its
own, other-worldly tune. I sat down and rested my chin on my knees.
The deep life of the forest re-sounded around me, like a constant
bass note at the edge of my awareness and as I listened, within
that timbre I heard a pattern repeated over and over again as if it
were a message. ‘Be careful’, it seemed to say, ‘watch out’. I gave
my thanks and considered the warning. Yes, if I were to accept my
sister’s exchange, I must first be absolutely certain of no
trickery.

“Proof. I want
proof,” I said aloud.

The grey
shadow clung to the edge of the trees.

“Do you hear
me? I won’t accept any exchange until I have proof of what you
offer.”

At first,
nothing seemed to happen then, sickly-slow as cough syrup running
down a cold spoon, the shadow began to advance. I heard a
whispering in my head of a million voices all talking at the same
time. I drowned in the cacophony, pressing back against the hard
log for as long as possible, until I could withstand the invasion
no more. In the instant before I fell into darkness, I caught a
glimpse of a little girl running through the woods, her legs
pumping like a champion, her short pony tail tied with a blue
band.

Part Six

The scent of
pine needles piqued my nose and I awoke, lying on the forest floor.
The trees stretched away on all sides and I listened for their
sylvan voice, usually so silvery and light, but for once, I could
hear only silence. Perhaps I’d banged my head because the woods
around me appeared strangely flat too; as if they’d lost that deep
life that I so loved. I rolled onto my knees and sprang to my feet
in one jump, then stopped to stare down at my own legs. Taking a
breath, I called for Taka and my chest expanded with ease, the air
flowing in. So I drew in more and more until I stood there like a
pumped-up balloon, my lungs stretched way out. I let it go with a
gush. Something odd and fizzy filled my veins and it made me feel
so alive and happy that I skipped around the glade.

“Taka!”

No one
replied. Where on earth was she and where was Grandma? I carried on
skipping round and round that old log. Gosh, look how high I could
go with each step. I made myself go higher and faster, the little
pine needles scooting out from under my feet.

I called out
in rhythm to my skips, “Taka, Taka, Taka!”

Now I was
breathless and I stopped, feeling the chill of an old dread as I
waited for the coughing to rip at my lungs. Nothing happened. The
woods remained silent. I knew that Taka would never have left me
alone, only perhaps I’d collapsed and she’d run home for help. I’d
better go after her.

My legs were
light and I ran with ease, the dark forest floor springy under each
step. That’s not right, I could never go fast like that and the
pain in my chest had completely disappeared. I ran just like my
sister and Taka was a champion runner at school; I’d watched her
many times with pride and, sorry to say, a little envy.

I came to the
edge of the woods. Ahead, further down the hill, lay the stile into
Mr Greg’s field and when I got there I’d be able to see the roof of
our house. But I knew this wasn’t right, I knew that I had to stop.
I caressed the yellow lichen on a tree, the tiny fronds delicate
beneath my fingertips. I slowly reached to the nape of my neck. As
I suspected, my long, brown plait was no longer there. Instead, I
found Taka’s short ponytail and blue elastic.

“Go home. Run
home,” said the Taka in me and I wanted to, I really did but I
could hear another voice too and I think it was the part of me that
remained Dalvar and I knew she wanted me to wait.

So I sat down
right where I was, looking out over the prickly thistles thick
along the hedgerow. I kept my back to the enchanted forest and, in
case the sands of time were turning against me, I rejoiced in every
free breath and the fire of health in my veins.

Final Part

The shadows of
the thistle stems grew longer as the afternoon light began to fade
and I still waited, a damp chill penetrating through my clothes,
reminding me that evening would soon arrive. How long should I wait
and for what? I had no idea. Just as the birds began their dusk
chorus bright and lilting from the tree tops, an image flashed
clear in my mind of my sister lying in the middle of the forest,
right by the old log. Where she’d fallen, her long dark hair, which
used to be mine, spread across the pine needles. In the scene,
Death had disappeared and I knew in that moment, that as my old
body died Taka’s spirit had seized the moment and passed across to
the other realms. Death had granted her request, allowing Taka to
give me her physical form. I bit down hard on my lip. I was the
only one to know that though Taka died frightened of Death, she
kept true to her bargain. I closed my eyes and wished hard that
Death had shown me to Taka, that she’d seen me running through the
woods before she died and known that her dearest wish had
worked.

A blackbird
alighted close to me. The life in his song registered as a bitter
counterpoint to my sister’s death but it stirred me to my feet and
I turned to face down the field towards the stile. I must have
staggered those first few steps before I broke into a run, my feet
flying over the muddy tussocks.

I didn’t stop
until I reached home and as I rushed into the yard, Mother hurried
out from the kitchen. She clutched her apron, her face pale and I
bent over and retched. Mother dashed straight for the bell at the
front of the house. Father had hung it there last year and now I
knew why. Its harsh clang rang out and mother pulled and pulled at
it like she would never stop. Father must have been working in the
far fields because it seemed like an eternity before he came. His
heavy boots thudded across the yard. His shirt was open and
perspiration glittered on his neck.

“Dalvar?” He
choked out the name. I stood right before him but he saw only
Taka’s body, not me inside and so, speechless, I turned my gaze
towards the woods.

Our neighbour,
Mr Greg, appeared and he briefly lay his hand on father’s shoulder,
before the two of them set off at a sprint up the hill. I followed
behind. When we reached the middle of the woods, Father knelt
beside my sister’s body and stroked his hand across her brow. I’ll
never forget the look on his face; as if something inside him had
broken. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the
house. Right by that old log, my pink ribbon trailed across the
ground. I picked it up and stuffed it into my pocket.

Everyone
thought it was me father carried back. That night, mother, father
and I sat a night vigil and the flickering candles cast their
mellow light. She was buried two days later and I kept my silence,
never telling anyone that I am Dalvar and they all call me ‘Taka’,
well, of course they would, wouldn’t they? Though, in truth, a part
of me is neither Taka nor Dalvar and that part shall do far darker
deeds than they ever would. That was Death’s gain in the bargain.
When I look in the mirror I can see it, that faintest of shadows
around my body, like a thin layer of liquid smoke clinging to my
flesh. I wonder what it will spur me to do? No one else ever
notices.

I hope you enjoyed ‘Trading
with Death’.

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