Zara

She reached for another tissue with her shaking hand, the last tissue, she wants to save it but she can’t stop the whimpering and the hopeless tears rolling down her cheek. She thinks it’s over, than she remembers, her face clenches up, her shoulders drop and she throws her face into her last tissue. “I’m sick of him mum, it’s me or him” “So who’s it going to be? Your daughter or that man I call stepfather?” Lucy Taylor yelled at her mum, meaning every word as she felt the anger explode within her. I remember the ponds we used to visit, the big round pond with the petals drifting on the ripples of the water, the big tree in the middle its branches just sweeping the top of the ponds surface, the long grass swaying in the wind, the vague fish in the depths of the muddy water. It makes me feel happy and safe. I hear the singing birds and the ducks, the rustling trees and the distant whisper of the traffic. I look beside me, nothings there but I can feel his presence, the man who made this place a memory worth remembering. I never thought he would leave me, but I suppose he hasn’t, he’s still here with me. We have so many memories that are now just stories. I look across the pond and see an old man, moving his hose from left to right watering his front garden with the sign of boredom on his old, worn body. // I gently shake Alice’s shoulder “Alice, Alice its time to go down stairs” I whisper in my sister’s ear so she doesn’t get startled, “come on”. She slowly opens her eyes to see my over her, she automatically realises why. // // “Let’s go” she whispers back // // We both get up early just so we get down before Bappoo. I slowly make my way with Alice close behind. I grab the cold stair case rail and slowly make my way down the stairs trying to miss the squeaky third step. We fiddle round the dark living room trying to find his old armchair, “I’ve found it” Alice whispered loudly in my direction // // “Shhhhh!” // // “Sorry, follow my voice” // // I move around the dark living room till I grab onto her, I move my hand to feel the armchair, I place the whoopee cushion in the middle of the chair. // // “Now we wait” I whispered excitedly to Alice. We make are way back to our room in the dark. // // Later on in the morning we casually make our way down the stairs into the living room // // “Alice, we forgot to cover the whoopee cushion up” // // “Quick, cover it up with the quilt!” Alice is quick to respond. I run over to the quilt and drop it over the old armchair. He’ll never know I laughed to myself. //  We did this every morning when we visited him. One morning in spite of his hip surgery he chased us around the house and the garden with a garden hose. But that’s just another story. I take one more look around the pond, trying to embrace every aspect so that this memory never fades.