Wild Thing 4/9

21/09/2013

I remember when we were younger Rach and I would have these elaborate sleepovers. There was only ever the two of us but we’d dress up in our favourite clothes, organise some special dish and cook it together. Rach couldn’t really do much other than chop or mix but I enjoy making up new recipes and experimenting. We’d play some games. Rach loved board games and we both excelled at truth or dare.

Later we would tell ghost stories. Rach is an impressive storyteller and often I would lie awake, long after Rach had drifted off, telling myself I wasn’t scared of the images she’d conjured up. During such nights I would hear Rach talking in her sleep. Not once or twice. Every time. I might be the only person in the world who knows that. And now no one else has the chance to find out first hand.

You know, I bet you think you’ve finally got this all figured. At the start you were jumping the proverbial gun, grabbing conclusions out of nowhere and trying to make your preconceived ideas fit. But now you think you know better, think you’ve got the story figured out.

You’re not even close. You haven’t got the barest inkling of the whole truth of this story. How could you when I’m not even sure? What I do know is that neither of us (whoever you are. I write as though to a specific person though I don’t intend to show this to a soul. I think I’m picturing my mother) will ever know the true significance of the events I narrate between these pages. What, don’t believe me? Trust Shakespeare – ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ Hamlet. (I put that reference in for your benefit; you don’t strike me the type to read Shakespeare.)

Anyway putting aside my philosophical ramblings there’s one big problem with you understanding the story. You’ve only heard the end. Not even that. The aftermath. So you want to know the rest? The whole truth?

Wait. There are a couple more things you need to catch up on. Why can’t I tell you now? One word: homework. Believe me this makes me no happier than you. I guess the world really doesn’t stop spinning when you’re best friend dies.