Ellipses 2017

Ellipses

A Collection of Creative Writing from
the University of St Mark & St John

2017 University of St Mark & St John | 1

Acknowledgements:

A production team on the Experiential Learning module brought
Ellipses 2017 into being: congratulations to Amy Bowden, Bethany
Clarke-Major and Grace Davey, and many thanks to Zac Gribble for
patient and considered technical guidance.

Image credits:

Pages 6 and 7 Akehurst - Sufferance - Buterfly image - credit Jondolar Schnurr
Pages 8 and 9 https://pixabay.com/en/tree-nymph-butterfly-white-tree-nymph-1310716/
Pages 12 and 13
Page 16 Bould – The Alphabet Worm – Typeset - credit Amador Loureiro
Pages 20 and 21 https://unsplash.com/@amadorloureiroblanco?photo=BVyNlchWqzs
Pages 24 and 25
Green - Beast - Moorland image - credit Hayden Gabriel
Page 27
Pages 30 and 31 Cowley – Outing – Feather image - credit the3cats
Page 33 https://pixabay.com/en/spring-ease-airy-spring-dress-1598306/
Page 36
Errenalini - How Wolves Cry - Wolf - credit Steve Felberg
https://pixabay.com/en/wolf-howling-animal-wild-nature-1992716/

Lee - Threads - Snow cottage - credit Miro Alt
https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-house-surrounded-by-snow-covered-field-near-
snow-covered-mountain-under-yellow-blue-and-orange-sunset-179845/

Read - Agent Down - Cat’s eyes - credit: Richard Revel
https://pixabay.com/en/cat-siamese-cat-feline-animal-2043890/

Tetley - A Good Chance of Raine - Eagle - credit Pralea Vasile
https://pixabay.com/en/birds-eagle-217591/

West - The Farrows - Key - credit Mystic Art Design
https://pixabay.com/en/key-ivy-band-mystical-fantasy-1702967/

Whiting – Beginnings - Nachos - credit Emilio Juares
https://pixabay.com/en/nachos-food-mexican-food-eat-266222/

Page 37 Whiting – Beginnings - Ice Cream - credit Pete (comedy_nose)
https://www.flickr.com/photos/comedynose/14373314278

Cover image Doorway dog - credit Hayden Gabriel

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

2 | Ellipses 2017

Welcome to Ellipses 2017 – a journal of creative writing from
undergraduates and alumni of the English and Creative Writing
programme at the University of St Mark & St John, Plymouth. Short
stories, poems, extracts from screenplay and from novels all feature
in this year’s publication with elements of the fantastic, the dark,
the heart-warming and the upliftingly-silly. Yours to choose and
revel in.

Hayden Gabriel BA PGCE MA PhD
Programme Leader for English and Creative Writing

Jason Akehurst Sufferance 4
Kerry Bould The Alphabet Worm 8
Hannah Green Beast 10
Megan Cowley Outing 14
Lisa Tetley Untitled 17
Amy Errenalini How Wolves Cry 18
Victoria Lee Threads 22
Deanna Read Agent Down 26
Danl Tetley A Good Chance 28
of Raine
Bethany West The Farrows 32
Paige Whiting Beginnings 36

University of St Mark & St John | 3

Sufferance

Behind a twitching curtain Emily watched, the rafters, looking out of the window and down
her heart beating slowly and her heavy eyes her sloping lawn, past the dancing fuchsia regia
narrowed to a slit. She clung to it much like and beyond the boundaries of her small garden.
she had to her duvet as a small child when her It was her hedgerow night-lights that lit up the
father had conjured the sinister silhouettes of scene, she suspected, shining through spaces left
the Rabbit, Jackal, Crocodile and Butterfly to by stolen bricks in her boundary wall.
woo her asleep. He had told their stories with
the moral fortitude of a man worn to the bone by A low grunting, rutting sound permeated
war. There had been little comfort in the story of the space between her and the pharmacy as she
the butterfly that, for all its beauty, lived a short watched entranced, two, three, and then four
and pestilent life in the cabbage patch besides shadows slide onto their sides. Each figure of
their shed. Neither had the story of the ancient distorted humanity merged with the last as they
silver-backed jackal who stalked the East African met in a writhing mass of extremities like the
coast from Ethiopia to Kenya, on a quest to test shadow of an angry Medusa.
its strength against the giants of the world,
done much to excite Emily’s sense of adventure. She bit hard on her tongue as a cool shiver
Slowly those tales diminished into platitudes, as ran down her spine and she cursed her grandson,
her father’s experience pool became a puddle, Patrick, for leaving his sweets, a half empty bag
and, when the wheels of an imagination crippled of Tesco’s own brand chocolate peanuts, lying
by illiteracy began to spin without friction, so temptingly by the television. Not in 60 years
finally sleep-aids. had Emily been able to refuse the suggestions
of a half-opened bag. She would always look
Tonight though, Emily was back, paying full inside, always open every compartment and
attention. The impromptu bout of puppeteering ponder what drove a person to keep their phone
upon the pharmacy wall, opposite her front separate from their diary or a lipstick shut safely
garden, had excited her imagination and kept away, whilst their purse lay free to pilfer.
her awake well past her theoretical bed time.
She watched it from her usual seat, high up in You could tell a lot from a person’s bag.
Patrick’s for instance held his school stuff: books,
a pencil case, a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird

4 | Ellipses 2017

everything expected of a 15 year old school boy. enough. Then came the haunting thunder of an
Explore a little deeper and tucked away inside an inescapable memory to fill the silence. Even that
inner pocket were some loose cigarettes, a small though was tolerable, almost pleasant, compared
handful of coloured stones and two tightly folded to hearing the sound again and again and again,
notes, the more interesting of which had on it throughout the many decades of her life, as her
some crudely drawn hearts scattered around the city slowly bled itself dry.
names of Patrick and Alex.
One shadow remained on the wall low, flat
Emily could taste the iron of her blood and and unmoving: an unceremonious reminder of
held her tongue. Even after 60 years she still her legacy. She let the curtain fall back into
couldn’t fathom why, in their own space, a place and opened up the note she had been
person insisted on hiding something away. She holding tightly in that hand. It was the other
supposed if everything was left out in the open, one from Patrick’s bag, the less interesting one,
nobody would care. They probably wouldn’t a quickly scribbled copy of Hardy’s ‘Christmas
even notice. A secret, however, created a 1924’, a bitter riposte to faith. It had struck
void. A gaping hole in a person’s knowledge of Emily deeply to find it tucked away next to a
another that they could not help but fill with testament to love and even Patrick’s indignation
wild fantasies and poorly imagined conclusions. at her trespass hadn’t done much to lessen the
Something she knew all too well. effect of his grandmother’s baleful stare. She
hadn’t meant to look at him so harshly, but at
A quickly rising shout from outside brought that moment the boy had so closely resembled
her attention back to the wall and a crack his grandfather it was hard not to. Patrick had
that sounded like the breaking of the earth left immediately following that and Joyce,
reverberated around the street sending the his mother, had little sympathy for Emily’s
shadows into flight. She felt it pass through floundering explanation. Joyce had been on the
her teeth and skull: another death no doubt, receiving end of so many of those stares, with
another secret to keep. She was tired and felt so little explanation as to their origin, it was
faintly nauseous. No sound such as that should hard for her to keep cool under her mother’s
persist, not after so long. The first time was

University of St Mark & St John | 5

distant judgement. It had always been a point
of contention in their relationship and over the
years had developed from a ferocious battle of
wills into an unspoken void of misunderstanding
between the two. Her father’s life was Emily’s
burden, given to her to keep sacred until the day
she died and through all the pleading, the tears
and the shame, she would do just that. Only once
had her faith deserted her to a point where she
might have revealed the truth and on nights like
this, when the consequences of her life lay quite
plainly before her, she would partake in a ritual
of affirmation.

Emily went to her small bedroom across
from the kitchen and fetched a box from the
wardrobe. On it, written in scarlet letters, was
her name and she brought it back to the living
room, all the time covering the name with her
hand, and emptied it onto the sofa. Amongst
other things, a tattered and aged manuscript
dropped out and Emily picked it up, swept the
other items aside and sat down. Her heart rate
began to rise as she prepared for this ritual and
after a moment’s silence, she turned the first,
well-drafted, page and read, ‘Dear Joyce, to me
this is everything and in here is everything I know
about your father.’

6 | Ellipses 2017

Jason Akehurst

University of St Mark & St John | 7

The Alphabet Worm

There was a small worm, who loved to eat letters,
He thought they were rather scrummy.
Any old letter from A through to Z,
He would squeeze them all into his tummy.

This may sound like fun, but when taking out letters
From a sentence, its meaning will change.
Okay, it is fun when ‘bump’ turns to ‘bum’,
But more often than not it is strange.

‘I fed a fish to a penguin today at the zoo,’
I wrote in my diary, but when
I showed it to mum, she giggled and said,
‘You can’t feed a fish to a pen.’

And one day, while at school, I wrote in my book,
‘A badger lives underground’.
But that hungry old worm had eaten some letters,
And it said that ‘a bag is round’.

My Auntie once wrote on a postcard from France,
‘We rode in a horse and a cat.’
But I think what she meant was ‘a horse and a cart’,
For a cat would be surely left flat.

I once wrote a sentence on butterflies flying,
‘I love to watch butterflies flutter’.
Now everyone thinks I love to throw food,
When ‘butterflies’ turned into ‘butter’.

I’d had quite enough, so I wrote out the sentence,
‘Birds state worm is their friend.’
And that hungry old worm ate just the right letters,
‘Bird ate worm. The end.’

Kerry Bould

8 | Ellipses 2017

University of St Mark & St John | 9

Beast

There was no refuge from the storm, not even He rolled onto his back, finding that he was in a
in sleep. In his dreams, Jonathan was tossed sort of cave, or rather a messy, roughly circular
and thrown about on an endless, empty sea, one space built of and enclosed by gargantuan granite
second above the water, gasping, coughing, the masses. The oddness of the situation seemed to
next below the toiling waves, striving, beating clear his head a little. Though he looked around,
desperately for the surface. He tried to kick his Jonathan couldn’t find the source of the warmth
legs, but they were heavy and weak, dragging his that had been pressing against him, though as
body down like lead. There was a light out there he turned his head to find an entranceway, he
across the ocean, maybe a mile away, maybe thought he saw something move beyond the
ten, the only point of reference in the starless dazzling light pouring through it.
black dome above his head. Though he struck out
for it, reached, stretched, there was no way he He rubbed the dust from his eyes and pushed
would ever get there, and he knew it. Frankly, up onto his elbows, trying to get a better look,
he found himself thinking, there was no point and heard a rustling. Though Jonathan knew he
struggling. Lightning flashed above, too harsh, should probably be scared, there didn’t seem to
too bright. Jonathan winced, squeezing his eyes be anything threatening about the noise. It was
shut... most likely a harmless moorland animal going
about its strange little business. He struggled
… and opening them again with a gasp. further up onto his bottom and tried to move his
Suddenly, he was no longer drowning in a dark, legs in such a way that might allow him to stand
endless sea, trapped under a dark, endless dome. up, but they ached and protested so much that
Instead, he found, he was lying on his side in the he winced and had to give up.
darkness, his clothes still soaked through from
the driving rain. Strangely, however, he didn’t Stuck with nothing better to do, the boy
feel cold. Something warm moved away from slouched a little and found his eyes wandering
his spine. None of these sensations made sense around him. It was the strangest place he’d
in his foggy, sleepy head. The boy blinked, felt ever seen, so rough and wild and small. The
his eyelashes brush against solid stone. Curious. ground beneath him was strangely soft, and upon
looking down he realised that there was a fleecy

10 | Ellipses 2017

coating of compacted peat, moss and sheep’s could be no other explanation. And if this was
wool that let off a damp, warm, earthy aroma her lair, then she had to be somewhere nearby.
as he scuffed his hands into it. Where he had Jonathan wouldn’t believe she’d stolen him away
lain, there was a slight rise in the mossy carpet to kill and eat him. Surely, if that was the case,
where the layer was thicker and softer; made he’d already be dead. Why, then? It seemed so
to sleep on, he supposed. There were bones in strange to the young boy that anyone would
one corner, some cluttered under a low shelf of do anything selflessly, that this strange, wild
rock, some strung together with twisted grasses, creature would care about anyone but herself.
clinking in strange, alien rhythms as the cold
draughts caught them where they hung from the These were uncomfortable thoughts.
walls and roof. Jonathan decided that he didn’t want to stay
inside with them at all. He was beginning to get
Jonathan looked up. The massive slab of cold and there was so much more to explore
granite that served as the ceiling seemed to have outside, if only he could get there. Shuffling
markings on it. Shielding his eyes from the light along backwards on his bottom towards the light
flowing through the entrance, he realised that of the entranceway, Jonathan found himself
they were finger and hand prints left in some wondering what on earth he might find out
strange, earthy paint, most likely mixed from there. Where did the Beast hide herself? Was this
moorland mud. Quite suddenly, he realised he cave tucked away in a secluded valley, or in the
knew exactly where he was. It was her lair. The middle of an ancient, crooked old forest? Would
lair of the Beast of Bodmin Moor. there be wild, bare moorland outside like in
the paintings that lined the long gallery, or lush
He reached up and placed his own hand over grassland like all the pictures in the beautiful
her print, finding it thinner and longer than his books his nanny had read to him? His shoulders
own, remembering the way she’d looked last and head connected with granite, and he
night, during the storm, bedraggled and matted adjusted himself, took a breath, and squeezed
and feral, the hard, striking rain digging into his his body through the hole.
skin as he’d tried to run after her, calling to her
for help. She must have brought him here. There It was the bite of the cold wind that caught

University of St Mark & St John | 11

him first. It clawed and scratched its way under played around the rocks behind him.
his collar and through his clothes, chilling his Below, the valley floor was coated in springy,
clammy skin. He could taste it, too: crystal
clear and fresh, like the purest water he had mossy, yellowy grass that whispered to the
ever tasted. His eyelids fluttered, eyes dazzled wind in a strange sibilant language he wished
by the bright sun. It caught the fragments of he could understand. Between its long, wispy
quartz in the granite rock, making it shimmer like strands, soft, damp sphagnum moss grew in wide,
something from a dream. For a second, he was comforting carpets, and it was this that he was
almost afraid to turn around, afraid to see where sure he could see ponies chewing as they paced
this strange fate had brought him. And then, along the bracken and reed-edged stream. He
finally, he was glad that he did. strained his ears to hear the water playing over
the pebbles in the deep, narrow channel it had
The cave was not a cave at all, but a Tor, an carved through the soft peat. Jonathan became
outcrop of rock that crowned a huge, looming aware of a yowling up above him, and looked up
hill. It seemed the whole county of Cornwall was to see two of the biggest birds he had ever seen
stretched out before him, as though he were the circling above his head, playing with their wide
smallest thing alive at the centre of the world. shovel wings on the air currents and mewling to
Jonathan could see for miles and miles, from each other, beady black eyes flashing over all of
the rock-strewn slope at his feet, beyond the creation.
valley below him, right out across the moorland
to where the moorland became the farmland, Jonathan had forgotten everything in the
and the farmland became the beyond. Was that a mystery and majesty of this incredible world
road he could see, far, far away in the distance? that he had dreamed of for so long but had never
It was too far to tell. And there, out there, so before seen. He had even forgotten his legs, the
far away he could scarcely believe it, something way they ached and protested when he moved
shimmered and glittered. The sea? them, so much so that he grasped for a hold
on the rocky tor and slowly, painfully, carefully
He couldn’t stop staring into the vastness. stood up for a closer look at those magnificent
There were more tors around his, but none flying creatures.
seemed so high and so grand, nor were any
topped as his was with so many sharp, jagged That was when he heard it again; that
rocks that fell from the granite crown far and rustling, scuffling, sniffling sound. He turned
away down the hillside, all jagged and haggard at once and saw her, metres away, closer than
and poking out every which way, each one the he’d ever seen her before. The Beast lurked
size of his head, or bigger. So much ragged, wild just beyond the hilltop, her black eyes watching
chaos, and yet there was nothing to be heard but him from under her mane of matted hair. In the
the rush of the blustering, blistering wind that daylight he saw her better than he ever had
before, and marvelled at her strangeness, the

12 | Ellipses 2017

familiar unfamiliarity in her figure, the human
body contorted and hunched out of shape, forced
onto all fours by some twist of cruel fate. They
locked eyes for a long moment, and then she
turned and began to scurry away.

“Wait!” he shouted, and she stopped.
He didn’t know why he did it, but he couldn’t
let her leave him behind again. He knew he
needed her, needed her knowledge, her wisdom,
her will to survive.
She turned, glanced over her shoulder and
paused.
“Don’t go,” he tried, but she took no notice,
continuing on in her natural, unnatural way.

Hannah Green

University of St Mark & St John | 13

Outing

INT. FUEL STATION - A-ROAD – NIGHT

The shop sells limited items such as cigarettes, alcohol, magazines and snacks. A LATE-
NIGHT DJ SPEAKS SOFTLY ON THE RADIO, and we see a YOUNG WOMAN browsing alone
amongst the aisles.


Porn absorbs a MIDDLE-AGED, MALE CASHIER WITH DARK CIRCLES UNDER HIS EYES on his
SMARTPHONE behind the TILL. Through the window, there is a SECOND-HAND YELLOW
HATCHBACK stationed at a fuel pump, and an empty dual carriageway in the distance.

The YOUNG WOMAN strolls by a wall of magazines and A COPY OF DIVA catches her
eye. As more of her is revealed, we see that she has her HEAD SHAVEN ON ONE SIDE, is
dressed in BLUE WORK OVERALLS and wears a NOSE STUD. This is EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD
ANGELA BURNS. She reaches out to take a copy of the magazine but changes her mind.
She then turns around to face the snacks before picking up A PACKET OF CRISPS and
staring at them.

A RUSTY SALOON CAR appears outside on the dual carriageway. It speeds through the
fuel pumps and SCRAPES ANGELA’S HATCHBACK before slamming to a halt right outside
the shop. ANGELA, having seen this, throws the CRISPS back onto the shelf. She storms
towards the window but stops when TWO HOODED MEN climb out of the SALOON CAR,
both of them in TRACKSUITS with their faces hidden by SCARVES.

ANGELA and the CASHIER look at each other.

The TWO HOODED MEN burst through the door and onto the shop floor. The CASHIER
drops his SMARTPHONE and the SCREEN IMMEDIATELY CRACKS. He looks up to find the
FIRST HOODED MAN holding a KITCHEN KNIFE to his throat.

HOODED MAN 1
Stay still or I’ll cut you.

14 | Ellipses 2017

The SECOND HOODED MAN locates ANGELA by the window. She quickly attempts to dodge
him as he approaches but instead he knocks her over the head and pins her to the floor.

HOODED MAN 2
Move and you’re dead. You hear?!

ANGELA struggles beneath his weight.

ANGELA
F*** you!

The SECOND HOODED MAN flips her onto her back and smacks her round the face. She
spits in his eye. He continues to hit ANGELA until she goes limp.

HOODED MAN 2
Stupid dyke.

He stands over her and wipes his eye before delivering a kick to her stomach. ANGELA
rolls over, winded.

The hand of the FIRST HOODED MAN trembles, making a speck of blood appear where the
KNIFE presses into the CASHIER’S throat.

HOODED MAN 1
Empty the till. Now!

Urine soaks through the CASHIER’S TROUSERS, drips down his leg and leaks onto the
floor. He does as he’s told. ‘MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR’ BY SOPHIE ELLIS-BEXTOR
FADES IN ON THE RADIO. ANGELA slowly looks up.

The SECOND HOODED MAN starts taking the MONEY from the TILL and shoving it into

University of St Mark & St John | 15

an OLD RUCKSACK. The LIGHTS GO DOWN COMPLETELY and the MUSIC STOPS. For a
moment, ANGELA is heard BREATHING HEAVILY.

THE SONG PLAYS LOUDLY FROM THE BEGINNING. BLUE AND PINK LIGHTS SWAY around
the room and a DISCO BALL LOWERS from the ceiling. The CASHIER is suddenly wearing
SUNGLASSES and HEADPHONES and has become a DJ, with a BOOTH replacing the TILL.

The TWO HOODED MEN begin pulling back their HOODS and removing the SCARVES
around their faces while staring at each other intensely. ANGELA watches in confusion as
the TWO HOODED MEN take off their TRACKSUIT HOODIES and begin dancing in time to
the music. A PINK FEATHER BOA appears around the FIRST MAN’S neck while the SECOND
MAN is wearing a MESH VEST. The FIRST MAN pops open a CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE and
lets the foam pour all over the SECOND MAN. He twirls into his arms and the TWO MEN
passionately kiss.

ANGELA’S forehead hits the floor.

The music returns to its REGULAR VOLUME. The shop floor and its occupants are back in
their original positions with the KNIFE still pressed against the CASHER’S throat. The TILL
is now empty. The CASHIER puts his hands in the air.

HOODED MAN 1
(to HOODED MAN 2)
Are we done? Let’s go.

The CASHIER gasps for air as the KNIFE finally leaves his throat and BOTH HOODED MEN
flee the shop.

ANGELA rolls onto her back, staring up at the BRIGHT WHITE LIGHTS on the ceiling. WE
HEAR THE SALOON CAR PULL AWAY.

Megan Cowley

16 | Ellipses 2017

Untitled

Lisa Tetley I left it on the nature strip.
I didn’t need it anymore.

It had never given me much pleasure, I have to say.

It lay there inert as an old shirt.
So non-descript no-one noticed it.

Some part of me felt guilty.

Green as the grass on which it lay,
Black as the night under which it lay.

Pale as…beige.

I go to it from time to time
And nudge it gently with my foot.
It looks up at me, grateful for the attention.

It doesn’t look as if anyone else wants it,
So I guess I’m stuck with it for now.
I’ll bring it back inside.

I won’t warm it up though.
It might think it’s back to stay

And that would be cruel.

If it’s still alive in years to come,
I may put it outside again.

That’s if I haven’t killed it completely by then.

University of St Mark & St John | 17

How Wolves Cry

Murderous blizzards struck me, forcing me back other animal that had escaped, knowing it was
as I ran, like it was trying to stop my fleeing. The heading north. Their howling crescendoed loudly,
freezing white wastelands repeated, with no end with a sort of stressed sound before going silent.
in sight. I had forgotten what I was running for or Only minutes later, Father returned from the
from, I just had to get away from what I called same direction with the prey inanimate and held
my den. At first, I was attempting to follow my by his mouth.
older brothers, which turned into a chase, to a
struggle and then a hopeless pursuit. They were For some time, howling was, to me, just a
long gone, with no paw prints in the snow. way of talking. That was until the last morning.
I was woken by what sounded like indecisive
I could not call out. I could not cry. I was thunder, striking across the wasteland in spite of
too young and had used too much of my energy the calmer weather. Almost an hour later I heard
in running. My desire drained completely when my brothers howling a little differently than
the snow ahead of me suddenly broke and left usual. I couldn’t know then that our parents and
me to fall down a gripping height. The cliff was their friends had been killed and left for dead by
silhouetted in the blizzard’s blanket, leaving me some sadistic species.
to fall into yet more snow which cushioned my
crash. After my fall, a while had passed, as I just
laid curled up in the snow, defenceless and
Wanting to cry out, or move even, felt keeping what warmth I had, when I heard the
hopeless, when in fact it felt warmer to lay in howling of other creature. It echoed not from
the snow. At least the wind was not stroking me the snow beyond, but across the frozen rock
to death. But all I could think was to cry out, that towered next to me: the cliff I had fallen
to make the noise that my family would make from. Something was calling out, as though it was
when lost, or communicating at a distance, or screaming against its control. I recognised the
bewailing their pain. howl to be one of pain. It was so high pitched,
much higher than any of my siblings and I thought
The sound was so chilling the first time I it must be a cub like myself.
heard it, the long droning moan of my mother
howling up at the sky - for what, I was too young I got up from the ditch of snow I had formed
to understand at the time. She was hunting some and followed the scream, still being pushed by

18 | Ellipses 2017

the icy filter of the storm. The freezing veil was black crevice and then outside at the unending
so thick I had to stay by the cliff, which brought blizzard. He must have thought that he was in
me closer to the cry. It was coming from a small some wolf den. The hunter gave me one last
cave, a triangular tunnel where two cliffs had glance before sprinting out into the icy veil, but
collided long ago. At first I feared that it was the thick wind held him back so badly that he
some den and someone had been dragged in could only step, like wading through thick slushy
as living prey. However, one look into the cave water. Maybe he was attempting to flee, in fear
and I could see it was what my family called a that my family was soon to arrive, which was
‘hunter’, though I had never seen one for myself. never going to happen.

It was a very bizarre shape compared to I barked, trying to tell the hunter to come
mine, being very tall, slender and able to move back, he was going to freeze otherwise. To run
on its hind legs. At first, being the naïve cub I out in that cold and with no fur at all, he was
was, I thought he was a starving polar bear, but crazy. So I ran out and on my approach he fell to
he was far too thin and instead of huge bushy his knees, almost halfway into the snow, after
white fur, his coat appeared much thinner. only ten or eleven steps.

The hunter was oblivious to my entry, as When I stopped just next to the hunter he
he seemed to be more focused on his hands, remained still, quivering in pain. I did my best
which were pale white and red. The boy then to push him back up, but being just a puppy I
laid down, folding his front legs so his hands could only raise my head under his torso, only
were squeezed under his armpits. Attempting to nuzzling him. The hunter still shook in pain and
stimulate his body heat, the hunter curled up, breathed deeply, as the wind was strong enough
which was when he noticed me. Immediately he to make inhaling difficult. I was not giving up. I
sat up, eyes bloodshot as he gasped with his back moved so I was in front of his head, but he still
against the wall, like I was some bear cornering had his eyes closed, his head down. Barking again
him. His reaction actually startled me too. I did not get his attention, so I tried whimpering
almost turned tail to run out of the cave, but he and then nuzzling his head. He seemed to tense
quickly calmed as I just stared up at him, then when I breathed down his neck, then looked at
he glanced around, looking deep into the pitch me - just his head beneath his arm. The one eye I

University of St Mark & St John | 19

could see showed tiredness, grief and confusion.
It seemed my powerless prodding was convincing
him to listen to me. With his attention, I tugged
on the strange skin he had wrapped around his
arm and tried pulling him back to the cave.
Rather quickly, he appeared to comply and
turned round, still on his knees and hands and
crawled back inside.

I realised that this boy was not a deadly
hunter, but a young one, vulnerable and fearful
like myself. This creature stirred my curiosity.
There was so much I wanted to know about him,
but why he was alone and out here became my
greatest interest.

The cub hunter crawled back onto the flat
rock I found him lying on, shivering violently as
he curled into a ball again. Having stood out in
the blizzard with him, my coat was brushed in
white, so I was not any warmer. Feeling I could
help, I gently crawled up to him, looking him
in the eyes before getting any closer. He gave
me the same look from earlier and I just stared
unsure if he wanted me to get any closer. I
paused, hoping he would whimper or growl and
try to commune with me. Instead he raised his
little hand and stroked my head. His hand was
freezing, like he was already made of ice. The
gesture reminded me of a nuzzle, as he was
holding my head calmly, so I approached more
until I sat and rolled against his torso, my head
under his as he embraced me tightly, sharing our
warmth.

20 | Ellipses 2017

Amy Errenalini

University of St Mark & St John | 21

Threads

“Five thousand two hundred and forty six, five She sensed more than she saw the
thousand two hundred and forty seven.” disappointment in his eyes. In the dim light
the sunken sockets of his face appeared as
“Callie?” fathomless dark pools.
“Hush Boo, just a second. Five thousand
two hundred and forty eight, five thousand “I promise. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
two hundred and forty nine, five thousand two Making her way towards the door, she
hundred and fifty.” reached for the key hanging from its string
Carefully, she pinned the filthy material at around her neck and then for the coat dangling
the point where she had stopped her thread limply from a nail on the wall. Unlocking the
count and laid it lovingly in her lap, absently door, she pulled hard to get it open over the
smoothing it as she turned her attention to the large pile of scattered papers on the floor.
boy. The room was suddenly filled with a bright
“What is it little one?” light that left it looking strange and unfamiliar.
“I’m hungry.” Turning her back on the scene she hesitated
“You’re always hungry, though I suppose it is slightly and whispered one word, “Stay” before
time I found something to eat.” resolutely stepping outside and closing the door
She rose stiffly from the wooden chair and without a backward glance.
slowly arched her aching back – she had been The landscape before her was stark, a
bent almost double while counting the intricate bleached contrast to the cottage at her back.
weave of the fabric. Blinking hard she tried to re- One hand gripped the cold door handle so tightly
focus her eyes to the room at large. The candle that her knuckles became white from lack of
on the table was sinking lower into the hardening blood, while the other rubbed frantically at her
pool of grease, sending long flickering shadows painful eyes.
dancing across the walls. Soon she must light It had snowed. When had it snowed? When
another. had she last ventured out in search of food?
“Can I come with you this time, Callie?” She couldn’t recall, but it must have been
“No, my sweet. You’re safer inside. I’ll try some time ago. She had been aware of a drop
not to be too long.” in temperature, but only fleetingly. It was an

22 | Ellipses 2017

insignificant observation and her thoughts always protection angular shards of layered ice jutting
recoiled to what was most important. out from the banks. The small waterfall that fed
it was frozen into a bizarre crystalline pipe organ
Breathing in the cold fresh air, she returned and further above that, the ice stalactites fused
her mind to the current predicament. Food together to resemble molten lava.
would be difficult to find under such conditions
and she would be leaving tracks as soon as she Using a rock - at first she tried a stick but it
stepped outside the porch. snapped - she dug away at the frozen ground,
slowly releasing the roots of the rushes. When
If they came, they would see. she had a good-sized handful of the frosted
They would know. stalks, she turned her attention to the large
Torn, she looked furtively about her. To the boulders along the water’s edge. Using swift and
left the patchwork blanket of pristine white practised strokes, she freed the limpets of their
fields sloped gently away to the far distance; to hold upon the sodden surface and placed them
the right the outline of the forest reached its in her pockets along with the sugar filled roots.
naked fingers searchingly toward the leaden sky. Next she collected kale leaves, small spikes of
There was no wind and the only sound to samphire and seaweed: greens, reds and browns,
be heard was that of the waves breaking on the alien colours in this strange new monochrome
beach at the foot of the cliff ahead of her. Using world, before tentatively reaching her already
the hedge as cover, in the hope that it would numb hands deep into the rock pools in search of
disguise her progress, she made her way towards small crabs and further crustaceans.
the cliff. It was a risk to be out in the open, to
be seen, but then she too would be able to see With a few gathered whelks clasped in her
their approach. palm, she drew her blue hand across her face,
And do what? - she thought. Run? Run where? wiping the droplet from her nose. The contrast
Nowhere. Not without him. in temperature between her hand and her cheek
Shaking these thoughts free, she made her left her with a searing pain as though she had
way down the steep path to the beach below. been slapped squarely across the jaw.
The shallow stream had run dry leaving its
pebble bottom exposed to the elements, its only The sun was now sinking into the inky depths
of the water, sending ripples of golden light

University of St Mark & St John | 23

across the surface. Soon it would be dark, an
all-enveloping blackness from which to draw
comfort.

She returned to the cottage with her meagre
feast, making her way back along the path,
careful to use imprints in the snow that she had
already made. If she ate as little as possible, she
would have a few days’ grace before having to
leave her sanctuary again.

The last of the light had left the sky by the
time she stood safely back in the porch, though
she was still able to see due to the ethereal light
of the surrounding countryside. As she opened
the door, the cold air reached the already
guttering candle and snuffed it, leaving only a
ruby glow and a snaking swirl of smoke to add
an acrid hint to the sickening stench emanating
from the room.

This was the moment she loathed, the one
where everything seemed to lurch and begin to
slip away.

Rapidly closing and locking the door, she
made her way blindly across the room in search
of candle and matches. The flaring light quickly
subsided to a companionable glow and as she
placed her bounty upon the table and hung up
her coat she spoke softly to the boy.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I could find. I’ll
feed us shortly Boo; I just need to finish this.”

Turning away from the rotted remains of her
son, she picked up his cot blanket and returned
to her seat.

“Now where was I?......Five thousand two
hundred and fifty one, five thousand two hundred
and fifty two……”

24 | Ellipses 2017

Victoria Lee

University of St Mark & St John | 25

Agent Down

The apartment has been uninhabited for three finally fallen under Her Majesty’s payroll, but the
years now. one he’d bought himself is special. The Kiss, by
Klimt, with two lovers locked in a desperate yet
When most agents die, their things go into somehow coy entwinement.
storage until someone claims them. If no one
does, they get sold off, recycled back through On the coffee table against the back wall in
the system, or sent off to the scrapheap. But it front of another black velvet sofa, is a bottle of
was different with him; he’d filed an order to green nail polish, spilt as though brushed aside in
leave the place as it was. a move to stand. To its left, there’s a chess set
caught in mid-play macabre, and on the kitchen
It’s a big apartment, wide and bright with a counter, there’s a set of Wedgewood cups, older
breast wall made entirely of large, rectangular than anything else in the room: a testament to
windows. Grime grows in the corners and ivy time as long as they remain untouched.
pushes through the cracks where people have
thrown bricks and smashed the glass. The most animated thing here however, is
the white cat. It prowls around in and out of the
Everything is white, the light of day casting a doors during the day and disappears through the
harshness over the places that aren’t shrouded in cat flap at night time to feed itself. Its eyes are
shadow. It has the blinding quality of a hospital a pale, faded blue, and whilst people approach
room, minus the bleeping of a heart monitor. it and stroke it, no one likes to look into those
Instead, its music is that of young people on eyes.
the estate: crude rhymes chanted in a thick
assortment of British accents. There’s something deeply unsettling about a
blind cat that can see you still.
In the far corner, there’s a computer draped
in a dust sheet, two flat screens with a modified Around mid-afternoon, there are footsteps in
tower attached, and a hard drive fan that never the hallway outside. They’re skilfully quiet, but
stops its low hum. Beside it on the desk is a the cat lifts its head and its ears prick up.
mouldy coffee, the mug branded with a Star Wars
reference. There’s a pause where the footfalls stop and
seem to want to turn around, but a second later
The majority of art pieces on the walls had a broken beep sounds where the old thumbprint
been moving-in gifts from colleagues after he’d lock activates and the rest of the mechanisms

26 | Ellipses 2017

click into place. where she sits, crouching and grimacing at the
The screech of the door opening and the click of his knees. He’s feeling his fifty years
more and more of late, and he knows he doesn’t
smell of expensive cologne that follows, is have long until the Foreign Secretary – bloody
enough for the cat to relax and rest its chin on idiot – starts calling for his retirement.
its paws once more.
‘Look at you,’ he smirks, voice rough with
The man who steps over the threshold is emotion as he reaches out and scratches behind
about 5’9’’, but his general demeanour more her ears. ‘Still here. Never could get rid of you.’
than makes up for lack of height, his eyes being
the first thing that draws people in: a bright, She opens one glassy eye as though to say,
steely blue. ‘Really, you’re still gonna be like that?’

He’s dressed in a brown leather jacket and ‘You can come home with me if you want?
bespoke jeans. Every limb is cushioned by a layer This place can’t be good for you.’
of solid, sturdy muscle, like a bulldog.
She just closes the eye again and that’s his
Beneath the jacket is a soldier holster, home answer.
to a PPK Walther on one side, and a Glock on
the other. The Walther is the only gun he hasn’t Standing back up, he remembers that he’s
broken in the field. It had been the last one he’d actually here for a reason. Making a face at
made for him. the mouldy mug, he sits in the desk chair and
tugs the sheet from the computers, coughing at
He steps further into the apartment, closing the cloud of dust that blows up in his face and
the door behind him. It takes a moment for his temporarily blinds him.
eyes to adjust to the light but when they do,
everything from the painting to the chess set The screens boot up and the tower makes
makes him want to rip his own lungs out with his a groaning noise before settling down and
bare hands. presenting him with a password login request.

That’s when Grisabella catches his eye. “Okay, A,” he sighs, “let’s see what you’ve
She looks so much older now, barely out of got for me this time.”
kittenhood when he’d last seen her.
Deanna Read
With a stiffness, he moves over to the sofa

University of St Mark & St John | 27

A Good Chance
of Raine

Benjamin Pigeon wiggled his big toe through yet 14 of them had dimly lit glass panes that let
another hole in his shoe. It came out far enough out no more than a hush and a hint of who lived
for him to dip into the shallow, reflective puddles behind them. Six of those 14 had floral curtains
left by an early shower, its muck-filled nail that peeped out into the street: a hazy, creeping
zig-zagging through the cold water. light poked its way through the fabric. Benjamin
thought they looked like thin, side-turned mouths
He pulled the collar of his coat up as high trying to crack a smile.
as it would go, catching the edges of his ears,
before planting his hands deep inside his A waft of cooking food caught his attention.
pockets. The young boy stared at the cracks in The last meal he’d had – beans on toast, finished
the pavement as he walked, and began to kick off with jam roly poly and a dollop of custard –
loose stones across the wet and winding paths was at school on Friday. His tummy hurt and it
of Denmark Road. The sudden rush of brilliant- reminded him why he had to be here, and why
yellow light that appeared over the tops of the he couldn’t go home empty-handed, but he was
houses made him blink. Benjamin knew his cover transfixed and continued to stare at the tall
was almost gone. house in front of him.

Denmark Road was deserted. It was early The other eight windows were wide with
Sunday morning, and he had not seen another curtains fully drawn – but they had no light
soul on his short walk here. He noticed that coming from them. Benjamin wondered if the
although his own road was not far away, this road people who lived behind these windows were
looked very different to his. already downstairs, breakfasting on the bacon
and eggs he could smell. Only four windows had
Here, there were tall houses and short, fat tightly shut curtains – not ready yet to wake up,
houses, single storey houses and some with attic making him think about his own bed and how
rooms as large as a spaceship. The front gardens he’d rather still be in it.
were enormous, and extremely tidy. Some of
the buildings had more windows than Benjamin He looked behind him, and then to the big
thought were necessary, and so he stopped to brass numbers of the house with 18 windows,
get a closer look at the one standing four storeys Number 36. And then he stared again, this time
high. He counted 18 windows, all facing the road; at the large iron plaque screwed to the wall on

28 | Ellipses 2017

the left of the double red doors. The doors had a the door below, its feathers standing to attention
horseshoe-shaped door knocker and a letter box and arched like peaked triangles – ready to take
big enough to climb through. The plaque read: flight. The eagle’s feet were strong, holding the
weight of the enormous body above them; the
Majestic Heights talons, sharp, clutched tightly to the spindle.
Home for the Retired The eagle’s neck craned - searching for a nearby
It had taken Benjamin precisely 446 steps to tree or its next meal, but it was the eagle’s eye
reach Majestic Heights from his own house. He’d that caught the breath in Benjamin’s throat.
counted every step, even stopping twice and
going back to the smashed-glass porch of Rennes A flash of orange coming from inside the eye-
Flats when he’d got his numbers muddled. Now socket bore into Benjamin, staring and focused.
that he stood in front of the black-painted gate Perhaps it was a jewel of some kind, or maybe
with pointy spikes, he wasn’t sure it was such a just paint. It was hard to tell from where the
good idea to have come after all. That was until ten year old boy stood. Either way, that eye was
something caught his eye. alive and, whatever it was made of, it sent a
He stepped forward and clutched the gate shiver of excitement down Benjamin’s spine.
with both hands and pushed his nose between
the bars. The wind suddenly picked up and sent the
Above the big red doors, doors which sat on spindle into a flurry. The eagle spun round and
top of three rather large steps, was a bird. Not round so quickly that Benjamin steadied himself
a real bird, nor the kind of bird that sang and against the spiky gate before taking a step
tweeted and plumped its feathers, and certainly backwards. He watched as the bird came to life,
not the type of bird that would pooh on you and for a moment Benjamin closed his eyes to
when it flew overhead. This bird was special; this imagine its high-pitched cry filing Denmark Road
bird was also made of black-painted iron, and it and beyond, circling above the trees – and over
was the most beautiful creature Benjamin Pigeon his own home, too.
had ever seen.
The Golden Eagle perched itself on top of an The inviting smell of salty, hot food wafted
egg-shaped spindle. Its wings spread as wide as his way again, and Benjamin began to lift his
arms up, lowering his neck and turning his wide
eyes into narrow slits.

University of St Mark & St John | 29

He took two more steps back, then another swooshing noises.
two - wobbling slightly when his heel hit the edge A gap between the hedge and the
of the curb. He lifted a foot, bent the knee of his
other leg and leapt back onto the pavement with neighbouring house was just big enough for
his huge whooshing wings. Benjamin – the eagle - to pass through. Now he
waited, sitting inside the safety of the tightly-
Benjamin’s tummy gurgled at how empty it packed leaves running down the end of the wall.
was. When the whiff of food caught his nose as if And he listened, motionless, for the shuffling
it were right under him, he gulped and chewed footsteps to quieten. Tipping his head sideways
on the air; licking his lips and wiping his mouth and then pointing one ear first, then the other, in
with the back of his hand. the direction of the noise – his breath slowed to
almost nothing.
Benjamin leaned forward and pressed his fists
inside the creases his tummy made as he bent The thud of an outside door slamming shut
over, doubled in pain, aching at being teased by made Benjamin jump, and he uncurled one leg
the delicious smells. Eyes, ears and nose pricked back out into the road. Silence. The footsteps
to attention, head cocked and facing forward, were gone. So, Benjamin narrowed his eyes again
arms raised outwards - his tummy let out a large
growl. Now he felt like a hunter too.

The sudden sound of scraping metal
came from around the side of Number 36,
and Benjamin turned his head with a jerking
movement, looking down at his now long feathery
wings, snapping his lips together as if they were
a hooked beak that had spied a juicy rabbit. It
reminded him once again of what he had been
sent here to do.

Another scrape sounded, and then a loud
bang as the lid of a metal bin rested into place,
closely followed by footsteps and a few more
bangs. Benjamin lowered his body behind the
hedge. He stretched his neck as high as it would
go so he could spy, undetected, over the top.

Keeping his arms raised – then stretching
them wider, he flap-flapped them down to his
knees and above his head and began to pace
along the breadth of the wall, searching for
a way into the garden, making almost-silent

30 | Ellipses 2017

before tip-toeing silently across the lawn and to Another, brighter light joined the glow
the shadows at the side of the house. coming from the side door. Benjamin didn’t know
which way to look first: down at himself and the
He reached the bin and slowly lifted the lid state he was in; to the woman in a white coat
– peeking within its barrel-shaped belly. Inside and hair net towering in front of him – rolling pin
were two black bags bursting at the seams. He wielded above her head, or, to the tall, stony-
reached down and used his sharp finger nails, faced man dressed in black, standing watching
like talons, to rip the bag on top open. The smell him from window number 19? A window he had
of old rubbish smacked him in the face and the not noticed before.
wet, squelchy sensation of baked beans made
Benjamin pull both hands straight out. But then Benjamin gulped so hard it made his throat
he moved them close to his face, dripping with hurt.
sweet and runny-orange bean juice.
The eagle was now the juicy rabbit. And
Before he had time to think, Benjamin licked Benjamin’s legs had, without warning, forgotten
his hands and dived back into the bin. After how to run.
almost two days without food he no longer cared
about being caught. Danl Tetley

Beans went flying everywhere, sticking to his
chin as he piled handfuls into his mouth. Then he
found a piece of bread, a sliver of crispy bacon,
the white of half a boiled egg.

Further and further he dug, until almost his
entire body was swallowed by the metal bin.

A soft yellow light washed over the dark
corner of the house, followed by the creak of a
rusty hinge

“Oi! What on earth do you think you are
doing?” Benjamin jolted inside the belly of the
bin and tried to push himself out, but instead, he
sank further in. “You, boy ? Girl? What. Are. You.
Doing? Get out of there right now!”

Benjamin did his best to scramble upright,
but all that his wriggling did was tip the bin
completely over. He fell back, face and body
covered in a slimy, sticky mess. He wasn’t an
eagle anymore. Instead he felt like a rat-in-a-
trap.

University of St Mark & St John | 31

The Farrows

6th August 1909 it wouldn’t creak and wake Charlotte, who was
still tucked up in bed and snoozing in the next
This morning the sun was partly shrouded in pale room. I had learned the hard way how to move
clouds, drifting like a boat on a still Atlantic silently about the house at night and in the
sea and making the sky gleam in shades of early morning, so I put this to good use as I crept
peach and pink. The birds were singing their across the wooden hallway and ran down the
morning song as they always do, flitting past stairs, letting my dressing gown trail and float
the window playfully and nestling together on behind me – I felt as though I could fly.
a nearby sycamore tree. I stood by the window,
watching them with an absent smile and a heavy The key to the garden was sitting in the lock
heart. The clock on the wall ticked with a soft of the back door. I turned it and smiled at the
metronomic tone. satisfying click as it unlocked.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The morning air was soft on my face and the
It could barely be heard over the sound of breath of the Earth made my dark hair wave
the birds. and tangle, but I didn’t mind. I lifted my face
I stood on my tip-toes and stretched, towards the sun’s early rays to feel the warmth
reaching out to push the top of the window open on my skin for just a moment, forgetting about
and let the birdsong fill the room. I closed my the sinking feeling in my chest that weighed me
eyes and took five deep breaths. Breathing in down like an anchor. It was only when I raised my
and out. In and out. left hand to let it be warmed by the sun that I
There is a wistful peace that can only be fully realised today I was to become Mrs Farrow.
found this early in the morning with just the The sunlight glinted against my diamond ring,
sounds of the birds, the clock, and my own momentarily dazzling me. Dropping my hand to
breathing to be heard. The smell of freshly my side, I blinked slowly three times to get my
cut grass tickled my nose whenever I inhaled bearings back.
deeply; I could feel the soft and silky satin of
my dressing gown against my skin as the breeze I ran to the bottom of the garden where I put
danced through the window. I turned to look at my hands around the bars of the wrought-iron
the clock to see it was five thirty. fence and pressed my face against them. I stared
Sighing, I put on my slippers before quietly longingly through them, looking out at the flash
opening the heavy bedroom door, hoping that of street I could see on the other side of the
river and, oh, how my heart ached to explore it!

The gate remained locked and Mr Farrow

32 | Ellipses 2017

always kept the key close to him. I often saw the dress with a white petticoat
key threaded on a piece of string tied around underneath, exaggerating the
Mr Farrow’s neck. If I am wholly honest, I am size of the skirt; she had a navy
not sure I have ever seen him without it pressed double-breasted coat with thick
firmly against his skin. I cannot lie – I have lapels snugly fitted over her dress. His eyes
thought about slipping the key away from him then went to her round soft lips, her freckled
on more than one occasion, perhaps when he almond-shaped face and chestnut curled hair
was sleeping and snoring in his armchair in the that fell to her shoulders. The bright blue of
drawing room, just so I could walk that street her eyes twinkled behind the reflection in her
that teased me and begged me to go to it every thick-rimmed glasses and her fluffy eyebrows
time I came to the bottom of the garden. But I were furrowed together. She sat in the chair
have never dared. What would he do if he ever opposite the Detective’s desk, placing her black
caught me in the act, or if I managed to get the handbag delicately in her lap, trying to ignore
key away? What he would do if he ever found the moulding coffee cup that seemed to stare
out that I had left the grounds of the house? I at her. The tip of her tongue slipped out of her
suppose if I decided to leave forever, I would mouth and slid against her bottom lip, and then
never find out what his reaction was. she smacked her lips together.

I sighed again and turned back towards the “What do you think?” she asked the
house, noticing a shadow in a bedroom window Detective, fiddling with her bag straps and
on the top floor move away and the curtain chewing on her lip.
quickly fall back into place.
“I ain’t finished it yet, Miss Farrow. You’ll
24th November 1955 be the first to know when I do,” he assured her,
going over to the window. He slipped his fingers
Hearing a soft knock at the door, the Detective between the dusty blinds to peek out at the
closed the diary with more care than his stubby Thursday morning rush of Sixth Avenue. Men
fingers would usually allow. The door squeaked littered the pavement with their briefcases in
open for him to see Scarlett’s black Mary-Jane hand and sharp suits neatly pressed, despite the
shoes first, and then her white lace stockings fact it was almost the weekend. The women in
that fitted tightly over the sharp curve of her their petticoats and kitten heels walked with
ankle. His eyes darted up to her yellow gingham springs in their steps, chattering away with their
arms linked together as they fought against the

University of St Mark & St John | 33

cold. A number of polished cars were sitting along down without taking any further drags. “My great
the side of the road: black, red, blue, mustard, aunt is trying to remember what happened to it,
narrowly missed by a bus that came around the but her memory ain’t as good as it used to be!
corner a little too fast. She’s sure it wasn’t in the house when the fire
started, I know that.”
Scarlett stood, almost tripping over herself
and the leg of the metal chair. Detective Palmer’s nose and moustache
wrinkled and the lines in his forehead became
“You ain’t finished?! But you must think ever deeper as he narrowed his eyes. “Fire? What
there’s something there, or you wouldn’t keep fire? You ain’t mentioned a fire before.”
reading it! What happened to my Nana, Detective
Palmer?” Scarlett frowned and dropped the cigarette
end on the ashtray so she could clutch her
Palmer came away from the blinds and took a handbag closer to her. “Oh, you haven’t got to
chrome cigarette case out of his trouser pocket, that bit yet,” she said slowly. “Look, my father is
rolling his eyes at the girl. He pushed a cigarette desperate to know what happened to his mother,
between his lips and offered the case to Scarlett Detective Palmer, surely you know that. Can’t
who carefully took a cigarette - her first - and you read that diary any faster? It’s not exactly
lit it with the Detective’s match. She inhaled, War and Peace, with all due respect. If you were
letting the smoke hit the back of her throat and reading it properly like I asked then you’d know
burn before it found its way into her lungs and about the fire! My father is desperate to know
made her cough. what happened,” Scarlett said without pausing to
breathe.
The Detective sat back in his worn leather
chair which groaned and sagged underneath him. Palmer finished his cigarette and put his box
of matches in the top pocket of his greying shirt.
“I don’t know what happened, Miss Farrow,
I ain’t a psychic.” The cigarette hung from “What’s the price of his desperation? What
the corner of his mouth as he began to thumb price can he put on making me read any quicker
through the diary again. “I’ll keep looking but than I am?” His languid eyes stared at Scarlett’s
any more information you can find wouldn’t go handbag as her knuckles on the strap turned
amiss.” white.

“I’m still searching for the key Nana keeps “He’s a sick man, Detective, there’s only so
mentioning in the diary, Detective,” Scarlett much money he can gi-”
promised. The cigarette still burned between her
fingers as she sat back down. “Ain’t that a bite? But time is money. You
don’t get something for nothing, Kid,” Detective
“The quicker you find it, the better,” Palmer Palmer told her as he went to the office door.
coughed. He pulled it open and gestured for her to leave
with the cigarette hanging out of his cracked
The ashtray beside the mouldy mug was mouth. The corridor outside was long and dark
packed tight with cigarette butts and ash, but with no windows and only one of three lightbulbs
Scarlett lifted her hand to knock the ash from her
cigarette away regardless. She then let it burn

34 | Ellipses 2017

working. It buzzed incessantly and attracted Palmer’s heavy breathing, the too-fast tick of
flies. the broken clock on the wall, and the buzzing
lightbulb from outside. Scarlett saw the options
Scarlett huffed and thrust her hand inside in front of her – walk away without a word,
her handbag, bringing out a number of rolled up make a sarcastic comment, or remain quiet and
dollar bills tied together with an elastic band and solemn.
threw them at Detective Palmer’s feet, refusing
to look at him. There was a snarl on her pretty A decision was made and Scarlett stood,
mouth. She crossed her arms in front of her chest knocking the chair back with her legs as she did.
and sniffed as she heard the Detective close the She thrust her bag over her shoulder with a sneer
door and pick up the roll of money. He weighed and pushed her glasses up her thin nose.
it up in his hand as he went back to his chair and
stamped out the cigarette on the desk, leaving a “You’re heartless, Detective! Heartless!”
charred circle in the oak. Snapping off the elastic Scarlett watched Detective Palmer count
to release the bills, he began to count them. The her money once again with an amused smile
band twanged against Palmer’s fingers to create plastered across his scarred face.
a red strip across his skin but he didn’t seem to “Save it for someone who cares, Doll, now
react; not even so much as a wince or blink. He scram. I’ll see you in two weeks for an update.”
glared up at Scarlett as he counted the cash out
loud, which succeeded in making Scarlett shuffle Bethany West
nervously in the chair.

“Alright,” Detective Palmer said, squeezing
the bills in his harsh hands. The sweaty, musky
scent that lingered on the money began to
perforate the air. “I’ll finish it in two weeks,
minimum.”

“Two weeks?!” Scarlett cried. The force of
her voice practically raised her whole body from
the chair.

“Unless you got an extra hundred dollars in
that purse of yours, you’ll accept the two weeks
and get out. I have other broads to see and cases
to solve, ya know? Everyone thinks their case is
the most important when the truth is, unless you
give me cash, I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of
ya.”

A moment went by. A single moment of a few
seconds that dragged with the sound of Detective

University of St Mark & St John | 35

Beginnings

I asked your favourite thing about me and you I got the job anyway, even though the only
said it was how I made nachos and I was confused experience in the workplace I’ve had was flipping
because I thought you would say my eyes. You burgers for six years and I breathed a sigh of
could have said anything else but you didn’t and relief and a little of reluctance, and walked
smiled as you said it, as if you thought it were a home slowly to tell you.
sincere compliment but I’m more than chilli and
crisps aren’t I? You seemed happy, though I’ve seen the
same reaction from you when you open a new
I’m glad I didn’t go first because I had packet of cereal but I bit my lip and told you
something sappy and sentimental to say, but the that I start on Monday, that I’m employed and
conversation wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t that I’m excited to start working in a career that
bring it up so I guess I’m glad I just got an honest I might enjoy. You smiled and told me that you
answer. remembered your first job, selling ice-creams
on the beach on the weekends. You never made
I had my interview that day and your words much money, the beach was covered in rubbish
rang in my head as I waited at reception to be that was slowly turning to mulch and the sea was
signed in and it made me a lot more nervous than a murky brown, even with the sun out, but you
I probably should have been. The interviewer was stuck at it because you knew the meaning of hard
a nice woman, middle-aged and a little plump. work.
She asked me for my best quality and I said it
was how I made nachos because it was all I could
think of and she said are you crazy? This is an
office job.

So I laughed and told her I was joking, but if
she ever did need someone to make nachos then
I was her woman and she laughed too and wrote
something on her clipboard. I tried to look at
what she wrote from the corner of my eye but
her handwriting was too messy so I hoped it was
something positive.

36 | Ellipses 2017

You had been given the kiosk by your father, so you shut up shop and sold the kiosk to the
who told you that the only real reason he had dolphin rescue team that consisted of four
kept it open so long is that there was a chance to teenagers who pooled their babysitting money
watch girls in bikinis on the hot days. The beach to buy it from you. They never did rescue any
had always been the way it was and no girls in dolphins.
their right mind would take their clothes off
voluntarily but he was a simple man and he kept I listened, although I’ve heard the story
his faith alive. so many times I could tell it better than you. I
smiled and asked you if I deserved a treat for my
Your kiosk was next to a Punch and Judy new job. You asked what was wrong with staying
booth, only it wasn’t called Punch and Judy in and watching Coronation Street. You would
because the council was a real stickler for make the cuppas. That was the treat. You hadn’t
political correctness so it was called Domestically sat down yet so I knew I had time to get you out
Violent Non-descript Male and Judy. Children of the house. I suggested that you should suggest
would huddle on picnic blankets laid over bin the Orange Hut. I knew it was your favourite.
bags, the muck underneath squelching as they How couldn’t it be, you’ve eaten so much there
fidgeted, and wait for the show to start. you passed out on three separate occasions. The
best chop suey in the game, you’d say. The duck
The moment it finished you would play overload was always my favourite.
Greensleeves and ensnare them to buy an
extortionately expensive ice-cream that you had Duck-gate.
bought tubs of at the supermarket, not the good They had just started offering a buffet there,
kind either. Own brand vanilla with the cones all you can eat for a tenner. You came home so
that fall apart after two bites. Only a handful of excited that I barely had time to brush my hair
kids would ever buy an ice-cream at one time before you threw me out of the door, shoved me
so business was always slow, but who would into the car and drove over the speed limit to get
take their child to a filthy beach if they had the there. You set out a plan. Meats only. No filling
money to go elsewhere? up on chips and rice, and no fizzy drinks because
the bubbles fill up your belly and give you gas.
After six months you realised that you were I had eaten a pot noodle earlier, so I wasn’t too
eating more ice-cream than you were selling

University of St Mark & St John | 37

bothered about eating as much as I humanely us, sending yourself, the table and six plates of
could, but I still only put meat on my plate. It piping hot Peking duck onto the floor. You were
was really dry. out cold for twenty minutes. I laughed so hard I
thought I might pass out myself so I went to the
You are not, or have ever been, the sort of bathroom to calm myself down and you woke up
man to give up on anything, and even when you on the floor, alone, confused and surrounded by
looked a little green and there were drops of shredded duck.
saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth and
beads of sweat were forming on your brow you We didn’t go to the Orange Hut that night.
still soldiered on, throwing duck into your mouth Instead we ordered a take-away and watched
like a hungry alpha wolf at feeding times, each Coronation Street. I made the cuppas. You spent
forkful a little slower than the last. most of the night playing a game on your phone.

I had finished eating and bought myself a It was a war game. You had to build up troops
cola to wash it down with. and destroy someone else’s phone fortress. If you
paid extra you could have double the soldiers,
It really was dry. but you didn’t need to buy anything, you were
Just as I thought I couldn’t watch you chew good enough to win without cheating.
anymore you stood up, hoisin sauce spilling down
your shirt freely, the sticky drips clinging to the You had tried to interest me before, and
fibres, only, you couldn’t stand up properly and maybe I’m not fun, but I prefer a nice book over
you stumbled backwards, tripping yourself over a video game.
your chair and you toppled into the table behind
We went to bed quietly.

Paige Whiting

38 | Ellipses 2017

University of St Mark & St John | 39

40 | Ellipses 2017