Havermouth, Four and a Half Years Before** Trigger warning – this chapter features pregnancy loss. **In the quiet, Aislen could hear the small settling movement of the house, the draft where old joins met imperfectly, the creak of boards, and the groan of joists. There was the buzz of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and the drip of water into the sink, the tick of a small insect body hitting glass as a blowfly trapped indoors sought freedom.She breathed in and released the breath slowly, trying to settle into the peaceful oblivion beyond the small sounds and movements. Daisy sat opposite to her, and Aislen imagined that she could feel the air warmed by body heat, that she could feel the shift in the air from Daisy’s breath.She focused on the bubble around herself and that around Daisy, holding both in place as she stretched her hands out to meet Daisy’s. The bubbles disappeared – they didn’t burst, but rather evaporated as if they had never been there in the first place, the mome

Havermouth, Four and a Half Years BeforeAt least, Aislen thought as she dressed, she did not need to ask herself what she would wear to the funeral, most of her clothing was in the right color. She dressed slowly staring in the mirror at the darker patch on the floor behind her.Bianca, Helena and Christine had all pitched in to clean up from the miscarriage, scrubbing the blood from the wood and remaking the bed in clean linens so that by the time she returned from her overnight stay in hospital, the stain was the only evidence of what had happened. She had been acclimating to the patch on the floorboards in the weeks since, gradually hardening her heart until she could look at it without crying.The little cardboard box of ashes sat on the bedside table, the only other remnant of the little life that she had never wanted to grow, that she had intended to give to someone else… You would think that she would feel relieved not to have to continue with the pregnancy, she thought as she

Rideteb, Two Years Before The studio was quiet, and almost empty, just the way that Aislen liked it. Other than Jordan Daniels, the comic book artist who worked part time at the Rideten School of Art teaching, who was working on his course material in the little teacher’s office between the studios, she was alone. Sun streamed in through the generous windows catching on airborne dust, before spilling over the floorboards and the sharp scent of the ink of her pen merged with that of paints, oils and turpentine from the supply cupboard against the far wall. The table where Aislen worked caught the light perfectly. It was a little slice of heaven, she thought, or, at least, her version of it. She was inking in the final comic page for her end of year final submission, a work of meticulous care, requiring no interruption and a lot of patience. She preferred to work on tablet, but the Rideten School of Art was only just beginning to formally recognize comic book art as a subject rather t

Kabramatta, A Month BeforeAislen found the regular yoga sessions not only helpful in maintaining a level of physical fitness to combat the stationary nature of her art, but also in enforcing a regular meditation to help strengthen the bubbles that protected her from the onslaught of mental noise that came with living in a busy city. That Bianca was the yogi was a bonus, as it meant that she could combine exercise, meditation and a catch up with her friend.Aislen lingered behind as the class ended and the room gradually emptied.She watched as Bianca flirted with a pony-tailed, curvaceous blonde woman, the sparks flying between them as they exchange numbers. The blonde cast a smile over her shoulder as she left.“You have a type,” Aislen drawled as she joined Bianca. “Blonde, curvy, and bubbly.”“So do you - six inches, chubby and made of silicone,” Bianca snorted. “When are you going to give a flesh and blood person a go? I bumped into Jordan Daniels the other day at a gallery. He i

Havermouth, Present DayAislen watched the water flow around her feet, swirling over the paving stones and tarmac of the main street of Havermouth, ripples casting shadows through the water that looked like screaming faces. She walked through the water, bewildered, feeling its cold drag against her legs, and its weight tugging down the fabric of her dress and sticking it to her skin.The traffic on the street had stopped, cars like islands in the flowing water, and pedestrians came to a standstill, everyone turning towards the river in astonishment.Where had the water come from?Something brushed against Aislen’s leg, and she looked down and cried out in horror as a pale, fish-nibbled face passed by, cheeks flapping in the movement of the water and eye sockets vacant, carried along in the tide of the water.Aislen woke on the end of a jump and gripped the sheets, breathing heavily.“Morgana,” Talen rose from the recliner and leaned over her. His hair was loose, brushing over her chee