Trading with Death

  Trading with Death

  by

  Ann Girdharry

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved.

  copyright 2015 Ann Girdharry

  Table of Contents

  Start of Trading with Death

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  Part One

  Behind us, in the silence of the woods, a dry twig snapped. The skin on my arms prickled into gooseflesh and I shivered as if caught in a chill wind. Since morning the air had hung motionless, devoid of the slightest breeze. I grabbed Dalvar’s wrist and, as I felt her fragile bones, my fingers loosened their over-tight grip.

  “Get a move on, slow coach,” I said, forcing a smile.

  My little sister gazed up at me with those big, brown eyes of hers. “Why, Taka? Do you think somebody’s following us?”

  I swallowed. “Of course not, silly.”

  It took a concentrated effort to prevent myself glancing back one more time. I stared straight ahead down the path, scanning the gloomy edges of the trail. On either side, tall pine trees stretched to a distant sky. Their dense trunks and dark branches obscured the light to leave us a dimly-lit track. Underfoot thick needles created a springy mat, damping out the sound of our illicit foray; everyone knew to avoid the forbidden woods and in the school yard we all joked about it but the track cut the journey time home almost in half, and with Dalvar’s waning stamina I’d gauged it to be worthwhile. If she could save a bit of energy, maybe it would help her to get better.

  Dalvar’s footsteps already dragged slow and heavy. I tugged the woolly cardigan a bit more firmly around her shoulders. She coughed, at first once then twice; that horrible, grating cough that keeps us awake at night. I held my breath hoping it would stop but instead it turned into a full bout. My stomach tightened as my little sister pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. It was the one with a pattern of yellow flowers that mother had made from an old dress. Afterwards, when Dalvar straightened, she screwed up the handkerchief quickly, trying to conceal the fresh, red stain.

  “Don’t worry, Taka. I’m all right.”

  I pulled her head into my chest and held her close, so she couldn’t see my eyes. Why her? Why her and not me? I would beat my arms until they were blue, chop wood until my palms bled and much more, to trade places with her. Although I know wanting doesn’t work and neither do wishes because I tried those things and every time my heartfelt pleas fail I have to run and hide down by the river and cry in my secret place, where no one can find me.

  Behind us, another twig cracks and I guess it to be twenty, maybe thirty paces away, closing in.

  “Don’t look so worried. Let’s carry on,” Dalvar says, sticking out her chin in that favourite gesture of hers.

  Her grit amazes me. I think it’s only her spirit which keeps her going, makes her insist on continuing at school, though now she can only manage once a week, not twice a week like earlier in the year.

  “The woods are safe, Grandma told me,” she said, continuing ahead of me down the track.

  I give no reply. Grandma died when I was three, so more than a year before Dalvar was born. I can hardly remember Grandma myself, just the sound of her voice and her silver-grey hair always tied in a neat bun. My sister talks as if she’s had conversations with Grandma and no one corrects her, not even father. I know we say nothing because we all know that although she’s only six, Dalvar might not be with us for much longer.

  Dalvar’s dark brown hair falls in a single plait down her back. Tied with her favourite pink ribbon, the plait swings from side to side as she walks.

  She calls out in a sing song voice, “I know you all think I’m making it up, but I’m not. Grandma told me the woods are safe. She told me lots of things and in fact…” she glances behind, scanning my face, “in fact, there is something that lives in the woods and I know what it is.”

  Despite myself, I almost stumble, taken by surprise, knees wobbly. I so hate it when Dalvar starts talking spooky. I began to get a terrible sick feeling in my stomach as fear tried to take me over. I pushed it down as hard as I could. Just keep going, I told myself. Then with a jolt, I recognised the relics of a grand old, fallen tree which marked the half-way point in the track. We’d come half way, so no point in turning back.

  I heard a tremor in my own voice, “Listen, let’s talk about that once we’re out of here, okay?”

  “Oh no, Taka, sorry we need to talk about it now. You see, we’re in the middle and it’s time, it’s almost upon me.”

  Dalvar stopped and turned towards me. I didn’t know what she was talking about and I didn’t want to know either so I put my arm around her shoulders and tried to encourage her to keep walking. She stood rooted to the spot and folded her arms. That’s one of the problems with a stubborn sister.

  “You know we shouldn’t come in here, Taka. It’s been watching me and waiting every time we’ve crossed the woods but it can’t wait any longer,” she said.

  I try to block out her words, try to ignore too that odd look in her eyes. “Dalvar, stop it, we’ve got to get going. Come on.”

  She stuck her chin out. “You’re not listening to me. This is important.”

  I swear I heard the sound of whispering, like the wind in the trees, only, like I said, there was no wind today. If my eyes weren’t playing tricks, back down the track the branches by the side of the path began to sway, as if something just brushed past. I grabbed Dalvar’s arm and planted myself in front of her. From behind, I heard her say the oddest thing, “Don’t be frightened, Taka.”

  I clutched a tree so hard the bark sank into the soft flesh behind my nails. I’d promised to look after Dalvar, always and always, and I would. I felt like I was panting and I heard a scream, not from Dalvar but from me, high and bright, never ending. A swirling mass emerged onto the track behind us like an enormous, lethal swarm of black bees. Only I knew it wasn’t bees. The mass moved like liquid smoke, grey and shifting, advancing. As hard as I could I pushed Dalvar to safety into the pines. The mass homed it, suffocating me, sucking out my breath. I sank to my knees, and though I flung myself face down and tore at the ground to stop myself from slipping into its grasp, the dark entity sucked me in. It enveloped me whole and its voices invaded. What they said, I cannot tell you, but they whispered in a thousand voices in a thousand different tongues, filling every space in my being until I could stand it no longer. My mind splintered into thousands of tiny pieces. With no anchor, I fell into darkness.

  Part Two

  When I awoke, the first thing I saw was a ribbon lying not far from my face. It lay close enough that I could probably have touched it if I stretched out my arm. The bright strand trailed across the ground, pink and familiar on the pine needles, and it seemed to hold within it a distant memory of something happy and good that felt like home. From the soft earth, a deep scent of resin filled my nose and I half-closed my eyes, trying to remember what had happened. My head felt fuzzy. Why was I lying on the ground? In an instant, I realised her absence; my sister was missing. I pushed myself onto my knees and grabbed the ribbon, scanning the trees and the gloom of the woods stretching out on all sides. Terror tried to drag me down into its deep waters, but I scrambled to my feet and forced myself to shout.

  “Dalvar!”

  The trees swallowed the sound whole. She’d been with me, hadn’t she? We’d been coming home from school and something had happened. Yes, something, but what? Nothing came to mind. I willed myself to be strong and waited a few moments
until I felt more solid, then called her name again.

  “Dalvar!” No response.

  As I called this second time, I felt a burning sensation in my lungs and my chest convulsed in a spasm of coughing. I grabbed onto a tree trunk. I could sense the solidity of the tree and its roots travelling deep down into the earth and I steadied myself against its comforting presence. I bent over at the waist to squeeze against the stabs of pain in my chest. The air felt viscous and I struggled to get enough of it in to nourish myself, my lungs burning with each in-breath. A panic began to build inside as if my life hung in a terrible balance, dependent on my feeble lungs and their fight for air. I heard a soft voice in my ear.

  “Don’t struggle, just wait until the pain passes.”

  The tone of the voice helped to soothe my anxieties and in my mind’s eye, I saw the speaker, her silver hair pulled back into a bun, her face folding in myriad wrinkles; Grandma. She looked straight at me and I sensed her reassurance. Gradually, the coughing subsided until I could stand upright again and when I did, a bloody clot rose in my throat and I spat on the ground and stared down at the red.

  I remained leaning against my friend, the tree, with my Grandma waiting beside me, and gazed out into the gloom. The living nature of the forest pressed onto my senses. This was a perception I’d never had before, as if the woods themselves were capable of communicating, maybe even of speaking. Slowly, a realisation crystallised in my thoughts and when it did, I may perhaps have laughed, I don’t know. I do know that before I raised my arm, I looked up through the branches to try to see the sky. I could feel my own heart beating, my own pulse thundering as I stared up at a tiny blue patch, far, far away beyond the tops of the pines. I reached behind my head and with trembling fingers, checked the nape of my neck. Instead of my own short, pony tail tied with a blue band, I discovered a thick plait that hung half-way down my back. I pulled it over my shoulder. At the end, the strands of hair had unravelled where the pink ribbon, Dalvar’s favourite, was missing.

  Part Three

  After I retied the ribbon, I flicked the end of my plait backwards and forwards across my finger-tips, like a little paint brush. It was one of Dalvar’s habits when she was puzzling over something and the movement felt natural to me, as if my hands automatically knew the gesture. Grandma stayed close, but gazed into the distance, her skin shining with a silvery radiance.

  “Who am I? Have I really changed places with Dalvar?” I asked.

  Grandma smiled but she did not answer.

  I let the braid fall from my fingers. The trees almost dripped gloom from their needled branches down to the forest floor and I felt a palpable sense of timelessness, as if we existed in a dead zone. The weight of Dalvar’s tiredness dragged me down but I resisted the urge to rest and instead wriggled my shoulders. A trickle of life came back into my body. Perhaps I should try a little memory test. What about the time when Aunt Kasie visited and Dalvar fell from the windowsill?

  I thought back, remembering the excitement of that morning and how we’d woken so early the sun hadn’t yet broken the horizon. We’d stayed quiet, talking to each other with the quilts over our heads and stifling our giggles so we wouldn’t be told off. I thought of Aunt Kasie arriving wearing stripy tights and picking her way across the yard in her heels. Later, Aunt Kasie told us stories of life in the capital city where she sold ‘ladies apparel’ and where people worked even during the evenings and the streets were lit by lanterns atop huge, iron lamp posts. Mother listened quietly, preparing apples in the kitchen and as mother peeled, I was watching the long, green peels curling one on top of the other, when a cry rang out. A quick, high-pitched cry like a hare. The three of us ran down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the tiles, mother and Aunt Kasie close behind. I could see my own feet swinging in the air, swish, swish, free and dangly, the spring air warm on my knees, until the window sill, so solid against the back of my legs, slipped greasily away and I fell, down, down into the garden. I cried out, more from surprise than fear. Next thing I knew, I looked up and saw Taka peering down at me from the upstairs window, breathless, her eyes wide. Wait a minute, wasn’t I getting mixed up? It was me who ran, not me who fell from the window ledge.

  I looked at Grandma again, for reassurance. It was so nice to have her near me, even if the others never believed me when I told them about her. No, wait, that was mixed up too, wasn’t it? I shook my head, as if I might be able to re-arrange my thoughts and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the tinniest movement of something. It was a kind of grey shadow, formless, shifting in the air. I didn’t like the look of it and began backing off down the path. Maybe Taka had left the woods without me. Maybe I collapsed and she went for help, yes, that must be it. If I started walking down the path, I’d probably meet Taka coming back for me with father. As I moved away, I felt afraid that the shadow might follow, that I might never be able to escape it. But I was wrong. It stayed where it was.

  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 af
raid 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.