The Bothy – Arthur’s Aunt

Instead of driving a few feet down the road to the Chinese take-away, I decided to walk it for a change. I was having a bad day. Not the worst day, but just a shitter-than-usual one. The fresh air would do me good.

The town was busy for a Tuesday evening—student nights are Thursdays and they were out in force for something.

I made my way into Happy Panda and I had a flashback of my time in China with Chris, my twin brother.

We were in a restaurant that smelled exactly like what Happy Panda was smelling like tonight. Why was this memory coming through now? I’d been here lots of times before, in fact probably too often, so why China and Chris now?

Thinking back on it anyway, what a blast we had. We spent three months just bumming around the country. We started off in Hong Kong for a few weeks. Partying all night and then for days, spending time apart. I would sit in parks drinking coconut milk or tea and could have stayed there all day if it weren’t for the humidity.

We took trains and busses all over the country and spent days in secluded villages that really were off the beaten track and guidebooks. Once, we stayed in this mountain village hut/hostel and couldn’t believe ourselves we were here.

I can remember one night we went out, must have been four in the morning, and followed a path along a river near where we were sleeping. We didn’t have a clue where we were going, or even had any fear for our lives because the slate path was slippery and raised towards the water. We were silent, and this is what I love about my brother, we don’t have to say anything to each other.

The place was still. The cicadas and crickets had even stopped, or I had stopped hearing them. The only noise was my heartbeat, and the sound of the gushing water.

The further we went, the louder it got, and within the hour we knew a waterfall was somewhere upstream.

Chris was so damn happy that night. Here we were, right in the middle of a village, in a gorge, in China. He was, and still is, much more adventurous than me—his decision all along to come here, and to China. When it’s just us two, he brings out the best in me and I’d go along for the caper. Up ahead, he would turn and smile to me every so often with a look on his face that just said, “I can’t believe we’re here.” Cheshire-cat smile.

Soon enough the most unbelievable sight presented itself, the source of this river and nature looking stunning. A waterfall complete with plunge pool and hut-home by the water’s edge. We were gobsmacked and in awe. Living in Belfast all your life you don’t exactly see the world like this, or imagine someone, somewhere is living beside a waterfall.

The moonlight was in a perpetual state of flux as the waterfall made ripples in the pool below. We were getting drenched in the cool spray and decided now was the time to plonk ourselves down and just stare all around us—drinking it in.

We weren’t exactly doing anything wrong, but it felt mischievous none the less. This whole area probably belonged to the village where we were staying.

A Chinese door-greeting beeped out at me and Arthur was working behind the counter at the back.

“Jack, wha’s the craic?”

“All good thanks Arthur. Busy tonight?”

“So-so. Students are out in force like! We’ll be busy later when the pubs shut.”

Arthur’s cool, in his late forties I think. He’s lived here all his life so he tells me, and has a thick west Belfast accent.

“Can’t be a bad thing?”

“Aye, keeps the Mrs happy. What’ll it be?”

“Kung Po chicken.”

“Boiled rice, fried rice?”

“Fried rice.”

He nodded and went back to the kitchen and I sat in a booth with my back to the counter. I flipped through the bunch of newspapers and its innards.

I was getting into a story, of what must be an infinite amount of stories on the failing economy, when I felt a poke on my shin. I cursed and pulled the papers down to see a five foot tall Chinese woman with one leg, two crutches and a jet black beehive hairdo.

“Yo, long face, wha’s up?”

What the…

She poked me again with her left crutch, “Eh, sad face, wha’s up?”

“Hey what are you at?” I tried to brush her off, literally, brush her crutch poking off my leg.

“You come in here tonight, everyone else so happy.”

“Ah, ok…”

“Squeeze up. Make room.”

Oh god no. How long was Arthur going to be? In a place with about twelve free tables, four other people, this woman sits beside me, not even in the facing seat. I couldn’t turn around now too or she’d poke me again.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Man up. Why so sad?” She had direction that’s for sure.

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes, you are. Everyone else here so happy. You… um, not so much.” She was either going for wise and know-it-all, or mental and deranged.

“I’m not sad.”

“Oh yeah big boy,” She burst out laughing, “You are Tommy Cooper. You are laughing. You are smiling.”

“I’m not laughing right now… besides, this is a take-away restaurant at eight-thirty on a Tuesday evening, no one in here is happy.”

“You so clever!” She had a really deep voice when she was being sarcastic. “You come in here, all sighs and tuts and you drag your feet up to my nephew. No pleases or thank yous.”

Ah. Visiting, “I’m sorry…” Was that what she wanted to hear?

“Sorry, pfft! Sorry for wha?”

“For being rude to Arthur. I didn’t think I was.”

“That’s a problem you have! You need work on that!”

I really didn’t need a lecture this evening. I was more than polite to Arthur, I think. I hope. Damn she was confusing me.

“Listen, I don’t need any…”

“Your problem. You having a mild day. Some people are off with you. You take it on board. You not even polite with Huan!”

“I’m sorry, what? Who’s Huan?”

“My nephew!” She swung her crutch and whacked my shin again.

“Stop that!” I yelled. “I forgot, sorry,” I rubbed my shin, “Stop that please.”

“You don’t know hardship. You don’t know difficulty. You think you having bad day, big boy. You need think again.”

“I think my food is ready.”

“No. Huan is too slow, and fat. We have five mo minutes.”

I looked at the clock on the wall—eight-oh-five.

“Do you know Pinocchio?”

Oh my god. Is she being serious? “Yeah. Sure, why not.”

“No sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry, continue.”

“He lies. What happens when he lies?”

“His nose gets longer?”

“Pig shit! He deceives everyone around him. Make them think he telling truth. That’s a lie. He lie to himself.”

“What’s your point?”

“You lie.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“We do this all night Tommy Cooper!” She laughed her head off at what was fast becoming the wax-on, wax-off moment of her life, and my worst evening imaginable.

“No more lies. Be happy for change.”

“Kung Po chicken fried rice.” A girl said behind me.

“Can you excuse me?” I said to Arthur’s mental aunt.

“Ok, but be happy.” She continued to sit there looking at me. It was then that I noticed her, really noticed her. She had wrinkled skin like I’d never seen before. Her general presence reeked of stale cigarettes and something sweet, like intense vanilla and chocolate. Her breath stank, I was sure of that. But her smile, she looked genuinely happy and content.

“Oh, ok. I promise.”

“Good.” She got up, and hobbled off and poked a woman’s shin a few booths up. “Squeeze up. Make room, Tina Turner.”

It was ten past eight on the clock. I grabbed my food and bolted for the side exit instead of having to pass her and Tina.

The Bothy – Red Deer

“What’s going on, Michelle? You have something pissing you off and you’re being snappy with me.”

She huffed. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

I know what that meant—something. “So how long have you been tired?”

“A while.” She unfolded her arms awkwardly. Then folded them again in the same manner.

“But, you’ve been having some downtime. Enjoy it. Why should you be tired?”

“I don’t know.”

I paused for a little. This was the furthest we’ve got in any conversation lately. I knew my next words would affect things for better or worse. “When you’re ready to tell me, tell me.”

I poured out my take-away onto a damp plate which I was beginning to go past eating now. She left and I felt terrible, I was trying to tread carefully. I wasn’t sure whether to probe further, and risk another argument, or back away and avoid it. I think I handled it neutrally.

I pushed my dinner around the plate.

It was then that I heard a smash from the bathroom. I ran in to find Michelle standing on the green rug with the windowsill mirror smashed to shards around her feet. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“It was an accident. I’m fine.” She laughed, “It just slipped from my hands, I was putting cream on and went to lift it.”

I doubted her. I didn’t believe her. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t. “Come on,” I lifted her hands high up as if to get her to tip-toe out, “I’ll clean that up.”

“I’m so stupid…”

“Don’t say that, it was an accident.”

We stood in the hall. I held both her upper arms, I felt so strong and she looked so small. It felt wrong so I loosened up. “Michelle, you’d tell me if anything was the matter with you?”

“Of course.”

She went in to the bedroom and I heard the light go off as I went back into the kitchen.

I picked up the pieces of broken mirror and swept the rest up. Great, the bathroom of all places too—where you walk around barefoot most… Jack, now’s not the time. I did as good a job I could. And when I left I noticed all Michelle’s pots of cream were unopened. I stood looking at them for a second and shook out whatever bad thoughts I had in my head. I ate what I could of my Chinese, fed Merrick our cat, did the dishes and slept on the sofa for the first time in three years. I think I went unconscious from sheer tiredness instead of really wanting to.

 

The cave was exactly like I left it. I shut the door behind me and dropped my bag off. It fell with multiple thuds—I brought a lot of books this time.

I scooped up a glass of water from the font by the countertop only to stand on something that cracked, broken shards of mirror. That was odd, I don’t have a mirror in here. I picked them up and threw them out the door into the infinite vastness.

The books were exactly what I wanted up here. A mixture of coffee-table types, a Japanese pillow-book diary, a compendium of fantasy fiction, the size of small encyclopaedias and some books about the universe and space.

I brought enough fruit and vegetables in the bag to feed me for a few days, some fresh coffee with a nutty aroma and half a small factory’s worth of chocolate.

I put everything away into the cupboard of the prep-counter, the books on their shelf above the bed and rolled up the bag at the foot of the bed, next to the pan.

The cave was beginning to fill with that familiar comforting glow. I looked out into the forest and noticed the sun setting. Perfect, the deer would be out. In the foreground and this height, the deer are in perfect view. The stream where they usually come out to is their usual jaunt.

I pulled around the sofa and kicked off my shoes to get a good view. I grabbed my sketch pad and pencils and started drawing—quick sketches to begin with as they would disappear soon when the sun goes down.

Making a few jagged zig-zags for antlers I looked up and out and noticed it, the tiny timid musk deer. He was shy, as always, but seemed more cautious today making his way to the water’s edge. He continued looking in the direction of the stags so as not to make himself known.

I watched the stags, they raised their heads from the water. They looked at each other knowingly, and around themselves, as if, for something to happen. I looked back at the musk deer, he took another cautious sup and then from out of nowhere the smallest of the herd of red deer made a run for him. The musk deer shot off but not before the tines of the red deer’s antlers pierced the musk deer in it’s hind leg.

I couldn’t believe it, and I was stunned. The red deer are usually territorial but never aggressive. They’ve never attacked the musk deer before, usually they shoo him away.

I got up and found myself pressing against the window. I was annoyed for the little guy and hoped he’d be alright with his injury. I made a pot of coffee and inhaled the bitter, cool and nutty smell. It was so refreshing and inviting…

 

“Jack, it’s time for work, I made some coffee.” Michelle hurried about the kitchen. It was morning and I was awake.

The Bothy – Musk Deer

 

I woke up with Merrick fidgeting at the foot of the bed. I say woke up like it was a natural bright and breezy thing to do, what I meant was, I came to. My head, was thumping. A lot of sake and fish for dinner didn’t help my stomach either as my mind and body started to slowly switch on. So I lay there. I stared at the ceiling and clung to my stomach. I ran for the toilet, thankfully made it. There’s that moment at some point in your life when you miss, and it goes everywhere, all over the seat, the shower mat, the back of the sink stand… It wasn’t so bad really. I have no problem being sick. Michelle is the complete opposite, she gets herself into tears and it’s an emotional rollercoaster for her as much as me!

She was hangover-free this morning and when I crawled back into bed, she had a glass of water waiting for me at my side of the bed.

“Serves you right.”

“Hey! Go easy.”

“I’m sorry.” And she smiled at me, with genuine pity. “You drank lots, it’s a wonder you walked out of the restaurant and weren’t carried home.”

“I want to die, right now.”

“Sleep some more and when you wake up you’ll feel better.” She rubbed my back a little.

And so I did. I went foetal, tried to unpeel my tongue from the roof of my mouth and went to sleep.

I woke up and the full moon was pouring through the cave window. It was the middle of the night and the stars were scattered like a fine powder. I scooped up a glass of water from the font and looked at the paintings on the opposite wall. There were three. The first was a fairy-like creature of some kind, a pixie maybe. It was kind of cliché, resting on a white-spotted, red toadstool. She looked kind of cute. Her skin was so pale and incredible, her hair was jet black. She spotted my gaze and looked the other way. Her wings fluttered a little and she blushed.

The second painting was me. Well, it was me when I was a teenager. I was in a pool of water, I couldn’t tell if it was sea water, a lake or even a swimming pool, but I was shivering and boy was I a scrawny teenager—all skin and no hair! I kept squinting at myself, I was trying to provoke a reaction, but my teen-self stood smiling awkwardly at me, trembling.

The third painting was a green snake with a red marking on its head. It had a single red pattern around what looked like its middle too. I couldn’t tell for sure. It was all squeezed into the frame, like jumbled up Christmas tree lights in a box. It was gently writhing and twisting on itself.

My belly rumbled and I busied myself with a midnight snack. Some cheese on toast and a cup of tea.

The sofa was still turned facing out through the glass wall into the forest. I kicked back and munched down. I then spotted the little musk deer coming down off a slab of rock. As he made his way through the undergrowth he went for a drink at the river below. He was alone. I had no idea where the stags were, but I watched the little guy for a good fifteen minutes. He looked so content after keeping the tip of his head into the water for the entire time that when finished, he crouched down on his legs and looked around. His leg must have healed from the attack.

I had finished my tea and toast and felt comfortable too, almost as content as the deer. He looked up at me and for a brief moment. We met each other’s eyes. I didn’t want to flinch. For the first time the deer looked up at me.

I froze. I felt like him right before the stags chase him off, all paralyzed with fight or flight on its mind. We looked at each other, I wasn’t particularly worried, but I didn’t want to startle him, which I felt I could do if I wanted, even from up here.

He made the next move. He got up, shook his head about and trotted an invisible bridge, not just over the river but all the way up to eye level and a few feet in front of me on the other side of the glass. I stared in shock.

Then the room filled with the most wonderful smell. It was soft and musty, plush, heady and fusty. I was sedated and weighed down into the sofa.

“Under the king’s iron rule, a man would die if he killed me.” He spoke.

I was in utter shock, “How long have you been here?” I began.

“Longer than my time permits. I am your age.” He had a familiar voice and spoke slowly and knowingly.

“Why are you here?”

“I am hiding from the men with knives and rope—arms full of silver.”

“Are they trying to kill you?” My heart raced a little.

“Here comes darkness and they want my musk. I have the best in all the land. They dance and they come.”

“But, I thought it was only you here. And the other deer?”

“They aren’t really here. I am the reason you continue to dream this cave. I am the reason you only dream of this cave.”  He looked a little sad.

“What do you mean, that I only dream of this cave?” I was feeling anxious.

“Dreams are on and ever onwards. Others can dream and you do not.”

“Others can dream?”

“You are a singular and there are few like you. We come upon the king’s wishes.”

“The king?”

“The king, Jack, was ordered by the stars to interrupt you.”

I couldn’t respond. I had never spoken to anyone up here before, let alone the deer—in all this absurdity.

“You must stop this. You must stop dreaming of the cave.”

“But I always dream of the cave. I always come here…”

“The king commands. He shakes his tail and waves his quill. This is how it has been. This is how it always will be.”

“But, but I like dreaming here.” I was getting scared now.

“Others have been set free from the shattered mirror. You will too in time.”

“Set free? I don’t want to be set free. I like it here.”

“Think Jack…”

My face dropped as I went over what he was saying. He was right. In all the time I can remember, I never dreamed of anywhere else. Every night and every conscious daydream, I always came back to this cave like it was a second life. I treated it as such too and I liked it. But he was telling me this will stop soon. People tell me they have weird dreams, but I never told them mine. I liked my continuous, safe, comfortable dream. I could describe each and every chisel made into the cave. I fill the place exactly like I need it and come into it exactly how I left it.

“Should I be dreaming of other places?”

Nothing.

“Why are you sad?”

“Our dance is unfair. I punish each other by coming here. I’m too old. My tusks hurt.”

“But, you can get better? I can fix you.”

“We have a connection and it is why the king has sent me to stop this.”

I started to feel myself well up. “But I care for you. Let me help?”

“This is just a dream.”

“Is it?”

He looked at me. He looked at me like he was looking right into the pit and absolute bottom of my soul.

I woke up face down crying into the pillow. I was crying hard, and it hurt. I was devastated. I felt, I felt like I was feeling the little deer’s pain. Ah this was killing me, my belly ached and my heart, I could feel it caving in.

Eventually I began snivelling. Then onto sniffing. Then I just sat there. I sat upright. I went back to foetal position. I went on my back. I lay on my belly. This was a first, a dream so palpable I was shook right to the pit of my very being.

Fear began to slowly eek its way in. It crept up almost tapping itself on my shoulder, “Hey, yeah, so, what was that about? Pretty trippy huh! I bet something bad is coming.”

Michelle walked in. “I heard something. You ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Your eyes are all red. Were you crying?”

For the first time, I lied to her, “No.”

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Just a small excerpt of something I’m working on. Whether it goes somewhere remains to be seen.

The Bothy – Sperm Whale

 

This isn’t the cave. I panicked. Why wasn’t I in the cave? Where’s the door? Where’s my rug and bed? Where’s the forest and deer?

My eyes were adjusting to the sunlight. It was as if my dream-self was using them for the first time outside my familiar cave.

As I was squinting and coming round, I became aware of salty sea air. I was standing on a beach, a pebble, stony beach. In front of me was an ocean, an ocean that stretched into a horizon where the sky was as blue as the water itself. Finding that line that separated the two was difficult. The water was unbelievably blue, it matched the sky. And near my feet it merged to a turquoise and then a band of white as the waves roughly made their way in. And that was the odd thing, the waves came in, but they never went out. I sometimes think waves sound like breathing, they swash and breathe in… and then they swoosh and breathe out, in, and out.

On this beach it was as if a record was stuck. The swash, swash, swash of the waves wasn’t fast, but it was skipping to a slow pace.

I looked to my left and was in awe of an enormous mountain range, all covered with snowy tops, high jagged peaks and grey bases that tumbled onto short green planes. I felt like I was in a U-shape because they swept around me and continued into the same form on my right. They didn’t creep lower and lower at the tips of the U-shape, instead, they appeared to stop quite literally at the water forming a perfect shape.

I couldn’t hazard a guess what was behind the mountains, but I felt so small.

In-land was a village, it might even have been a hamlet. A few cottages made of timber and stone were scattered about. It looked quiet and kind of bleak on a bad day I imagined.

I was making my way up to the houses to see who lived here. Maybe someone knew where I was? I began feeling too scared the closer I got to the start of the beach near the grass. I had never been to a place like this in my dream—I never had any other dreams. My heart pumped a little faster and I hesitated. At that moment I heard an explosion of water. A sudden gush as if it was right next to my ear. I swung round as fast as I could fearing I was under threat.

A few hundred feet into the sea was a whale breathing out and with it the whoosh of the air and surrounding water. It sounded like the breath was right next to me when my back was to it. Now, it was in the distance but I could still hear it.

I made my way towards the waves and looked out at the whale. It was so close to the edge I was worried it would beach and die.

It continued to bob up and down—it was getting closer to me. The whoosh of its breathing was mesmerising and I nearly forgot about the sound of the skipping waves.

As it sank under, its tail rose majestically out of the water, the width of small airplane wings, I was captivated.

Silence. The waves stopped and the water rested to a still. Everything was frozen.

The grey whale hurtled, bursting out of the water. It breached nose first at me from a hundred feet away. I feel to my feet amongst the stones. This giant was going to collapse on top of me before I could run. My head went under my arms. In that brief second I thought it was all over, until I could feel rain on me.

I looked up and couldn’t see the sky for the grey flesh of the whale hovering over me. It was paused in mid-air, its tail propped its body up at forty-five degree as if it was the most natural thing to do.

I scrambled back until I wasn’t under the thing. I was soaking and stood up to look at the whale face on.

“Under the king’s iron rule, a man would die if he killed me.” She spoke.

The king. The whale spoke. It spoke of things the musk deer did.

“Why am I here? Where’s my cave?”

“Your cave is far, far away on another world.”

“Am I on earth?”

“You are on my world, Jack. This is the only island left. We are so few now.” She too sounded sad. Her voice amidst the odd click was soothing.

“We?”

“My friends, family, they have been hunted and slaughtered. They come and they dance.”

“Who?”

“Beware the men of the sea. With harpoons and silver they seek a scrimshaw.”

“A scrimshaw?”

“And blubber, and oil and our amber. The king is angry and he commands the end of the singular.” Her voiced raised, “It must stop.”

I cowered a little, “The musk spoke of the king and the singular.”

“Yes. You must cease the singular dream. It will only bring disappointment, desuetude and despair.”

“Who are you?” I suddenly felt very threatened.

“I am one of the king’s four messengers. We are scattered and we are few. I am the sperm whale.”

“Do you plan on hurting me? Does the king want me dead?”

“We mean no harm.”

“So, am I a singular? The people who can only dream of one thing?” I was shivering now. I was feeling so small and so worthless. The sperm whale’s skin was potted with circular scars and long gashes. The whole time I was talking to its nose, I hadn’t seen its eyes.

“It is not a curse, Jack but it is a crux—an affliction that will cause you great harm and sadness. Many die and refuse the king’s orders.”

I walked round to her right side and spotted her eye high up. She looked at me with a distance, like I wasn’t meant to get too close. Her tone was comforting, forceful at times, full of order, but she meant well and I decided there and then to relax.

“Who is the king?”

“The king was ordered by the stars to interrupt you. This is how it must be.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You must have presence in the face of those who mean you harm. Be as I do, a sperm whale will make itself known.”

“Who is trying to harm me?”

“The king is aware of your difficulties, your struggles, your apathy and acceptance of all that brings you down—of the people that bring you down.”

“The people in my life?”

“They bring you down?”

I felt glum, “Yes.”

“Carry out the king’s command. Take the memory of my ambergris to aid you.”

“Your what…?” I looked down between my feet to find a smooth kidney shaped stone much bigger than the surrounding pebbles. It was grey and yellowish in colour.

“Take it in your hands and breathe in.” Her enormous head bowed as if she was genuflecting.

I lifted up the ambergris to my hands. It was cold like a stone might be, but it did not smell like a stone. At first it smelled like seaweed, strong seaweed. At different whiffs it was almost faecal, like sweet manure. It was sensuous the more I held it and rubbed the waxy residue around my fingertips.

“How will this help?” I was feeling relaxed more so now than the whole time I was on the beach. Perhaps it was the odour of this ambergris, or the sperm whale’s direction and advice.

“On the other side, when things seem jaded and heavy, recall my odour, breathe in the memory and be as I am—the sperm whale.”

She knew of my work set-up, and Michelle and I. She knew I was having a pretty miserable time of it. How? This feels too real to be a dream… She’s speaking to me as if she really knows me, or at least, this king knows of me. Why wasn’t I in the cave? The absolute size of the beach and mountains around me was making me feel agoraphobic. I was yearning for the claustrophobia of my cave.

I looked away from the sperm whale. I was absorbing all that she said and stared off into the mountains, maybe my cave was up there?

“How do I…” She was gone. This thing the size of double-decker buses had simply vanished. Well, she knew how to make an entrance that’s for sure, but her exit…

I looked into the ambergris still in my hands. Was it an opaque crystal ball? Did it contain answers? It certainly smelled sweet and soothing. Maybe I should do as this king is commanding me. He obviously wants me to stop dreaming of the same thing and he’s sending Noah’s Ark to convince me.

My eyes opened quickly as I breathed in fast. I was back in the bothy.

The fire was just glowing lumps of coal now. This little place warmed up nicely, I could imagine myself living her quite comfortably. Michelle was fast asleep all slumped over her side of the sofa. I yawned and put my hand up to my mouth and stretched out my other arm. There it was, a soothing, sensuous odour, a little briney, but unmistakable—it was ambergris.

Had I been talking to someone, I’d have been speechless. In that sense I was thoughtless. I didn’t know what to think. Did I actually just go to a beach on another planet? Listen to yourself, Jack…

I couldn’t wake Michelle. A part of me didn’t want to tell her what happened. I think she’d think I was losing the plot big time. But how? How did that smell wind up on my fingers, here, in this bothy?

It was still night-time outside. I made sure the alarm on my phone was set to crazy a.m. and as I stared at the embers, I let the soft glow shut my eyes. I drifted off again, breathing in the sweet, salty smell on my fingers.

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Just a small excerpt of something I’m working on. Whether it goes somewhere remains to be seen.