No-See-Ums

Mary Anne was conscious of the fact that, unlike her mother, she was no great beauty. This is not to say that Mary Anne was not pretty, just that her features lacked Alice’s precision. She was a bit like a blurry replica of her mother, quickly rendered with blunt tools. Like all of the family, she was dark and would grow to be middling in stature. Like her father, the Doctor, she had a nice head of hair and wide shoulders—indeed slightly wider than desirable for a little girl.

In the summer, Mary Anne got brown as a berry. On warm days, she played outside with her brothers: collecting sticks in a Radio Flyer and racing down the slope of the drive with the wagon roaring behind her. On hot days she stayed inside with Rose and prattled or sat quietly, which ever suited her mood.

It was often her mood to be quiet, and her penchant for reflection led her to prefer the company of adults. Her expression being set in horizontal lines (and not the placid curves of childhood), she had the look of being rather a serious little girl.

* * *

Anne was rather a serious adventurer.

It was steep work heading south from the front door of her house. But, setting off downhill, she was alone, obscured by the great trees that struggled forth from thick blankets of ivy. There was a spot along the way, she knew, a dog’s grave covered in vine and leaf. She pulled back the ivy and traced the lettering on the small stone. She didn’t know the dog; it was a dog she’d never met. It was the dog belonging to another family—a family come before. There was always a before and a before before that.

The ivy was ankle-deep, harvesting all manner of slithering creature. Anne picked her way gingerly down the slope. The air was always thick and damp, alive with no-see-ums annoying her legs and arms and face. So hot, it was always so hot, humid, relief-less.

At last Anne reached the creek that tripped along at the base of the hill. She zigzagged from bank to bank, occasionally dampening her sneaker in the shallow water. (An imaginary beast was by her side—a silent, unconditional companion following her to the ends of the earth. Sometimes it was a fox, sometimes a dog or a cat. Always was it wise and knowing, noble and loyal.)

Zig zag zig zag…ZIG – she leapt over an aberration on the bank. Anne knew instantly it was a dead dead dead body. A racoon. Horrible sight, his lips peeled back to reveal his sharp teeth and blanched gums. Flies and midges buzzed around his eye sockets and creek water gently lapped against his body, coating the fur in grotesque white foam.

Anne reeled backwards up the bank, sick, disturbed. Her companion vanished; she was alone.

Sticky with sweat, no-see-ums swarming round her ears, she scrambled back up the hill—away away away from death.

Safe inside the house, Anne stretched her body on the cool peach tiles. She drank in the air-conditioning, and soon she was shivering.