Day trip to the seaside

“You’re too young. You don’t understand.”

But Tara understood more than they did. She lived it, day in day out. She pulls the door closed. The heat in the car is smothering. Stifling her own thoughts. Her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

Hot. Suffocating. Screaming reverberates through the car. Her sister kicks out, helpless.

Her little body thrashes and squirms, reaching out to be heard. No one was listening to her.

Small droplets of sweat form and grow just below her sister’s hairline. Destined to fall. Waiting for that thing that will push them to down. “You’re not Listening to her” she whispers.

“She needs to learn to behave”

Tara could see the pain behind her sister’s eyes. The fear. Her mask has slipped, too heavy to hold.

Her shoes on the floor, feet now free and breathing. Pulling at her sleeves, ripping at the cuffs strangling her tiny innocent wrists. Smooth material, rough, cutting against her skin. Restricting.

Binding. 

Their voice bellowing over the pleading cries, “Seatbelt, now!”

Potent smells of freshly fried chips, greasy and laden with salt and vinegar penetrate the seaside air. The sweet strawberry scent of candyfloss stuck in her hair makes an appearance. 

Sticky fingers. Sticky cheeks.

“You’re not listening to her” she speaks, louder this time. 

Scattered lighting from the amusements illuminate the car. 

Yellow. Blue. Red. Green. Pink.

Sounds of distant slot machines cantering towards a win. Her sisters face decorated by the rainbow glow. Her little eyes, searching, yearning to feel safe. Looking for someone to hear her.

She hits, kicks, thrusting herself out of her seat. Fighting against the confinement of the belt. 

“Mummy,” her sore little throat breaks. 

Mum is working. She didn’t come to Newcastle today.

“You have to do as you’re told!Enough tantrums” 

Her litte sister is six, surrounded by adults but today only Tara can see her. Only nine yet Tara is the only one hearing her pain. The distress.

The desperation. 

Her sister is exhausted. Tara is exhausted. She just wants to go home. 

The lights. The sounds. The tangy aftertaste of the blue slush puppy still coats her tongue. The dry air in the car clawing at her throat.

Laughing and clinking of glasses from night-time revelers hums in the background.

Eyes peering in the windows. Strangers staring. Tutting. 

Judgement educated by ignorance. 

Looking but not seeing. Hearing but not listening. Tara snaps her seatbelt open. “You’re not listening to her”, she yells, her own voice now unrecognisable.

They fall silent. Her sisters pained scream crescendos. She snatches the blanket from the floor and throws it over the back of the seat. It drapes down, sheltering them. 

Crumbs and a tell-tale green necklace adorned with sunflowers fall aside. 

She hides away with her sister, tapping their fingers together. No intrusive lights or eyes. No overbearing sounds.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The screams quieten. Her sisters breaths turn to short pulls. Her warm tacky little face drops to Tara’s shoulder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Regulating small shallow breaths, the shadows of the previous twenty minutes overtaken by a peaceful snuffling.

“You are not listening to her” Tara faintly sighs.

******************

I produced this piece of work during my time at the John Hewitt International Summer School. At the YA creative writing workshops we were set the challenge of writing a short piece of Flash Fiction no longer than 3 minutes if read aloud. Given the workshop we were in, the piece should should also contain a young adult character or be for young adult readers.

There were two pieces of work/advice during the workshops that inspired this final piece. The first was that we were shown lots of photos of random people and asked to choose one to write about. There was one in particular, a young girl looking off into the distance through a window, that really pulled me in. I wanted to know her story, maybe I thought I could write it. The second, Sue Divin, who was taking the workshop, told us not to be afraid to write what we know. Then Day trip to the Seaside just flowed from my pen…