There by the grace...

[hopeorfaith.livejournal.com]

Evening of Wednesday, 23 December

Two months ago tonight I was the 'appiest I've ever bin. An' I weren't even awake. I dreamed of 'im, an' we talked, an' 'e kissed me like it mattered. I knew then that I'd carry it with me always.

But Azrael's fadin' into Simon, an' though I love 'im, it ain't enough, t'live on that mem'ry. Seems like that's what's expected o'me, though, an' of Faith - take what scraps we's given, an' though I ain't complained much fer a long time, it's getting t'be - more than I can stand, sometimes. I think of Edmund, lovely Edmund, fair knight an' true, an' 'ow I knew when I danced with 'im an' 'e kissed me that 'e was the sort of blokes girls wait for, an' I'd never get another chance but that. An' I couldn't even speak to 'im.

I don't know if 'e got my letter. Never bin into the bakery since. Too scared 'e'll recognise me, even though I 'ad a mask on. I think 'e'd know me, if 'e saw me, an' I don't want - I'm a coward, maybe, but I don't think I could bear it if 'e was disgusted. Faith says that's 'is problem, not mine, but she's always bin tougher than me. She learned to steel 'er 'eart, an' I wish sometimes I could learn an' all. But I don't know 'ow, an' then I wonder sometimes if it'd stop me feelin', an' I think of that dream, of the ripple of Azrael's name across the water, 'is cool skin under me 'and an' the joy-sorrow that sang in me like a clear 'igh bell, an' I don't want nothin' that'll stop me feelin'. But it's 'ard, it's bloody 'ard. An' I know Faith feels it too.

Bin thinkin' a lot since Sunday, when Simon came to see us, an' at last we've made a decision. Just to - talk. Not to decide nothin'. An' I won't do nothin' that feels wrong, cos there ain't nothin' fer myself I want if it comes out of 'arm. Jus' to talk, that's all.

Wrap up as best we can. Shuffle slow outside - we fall over we'll never get up, an' asides, our joints are achin' somethin' fierce. It's dark, an' no one's about on the livin' lot. Glad everyone's in their trailers an' tents, cos we don't want to explain where we're goin'.

Get to the caravan at last. Step up an' rap on the door, an' after a long while, so long we think we're goin' t'seize up, it opens.

[closed]

There by the grace...

[hopeorfaith.livejournal.com]

Evening of Wednesday, 23 December

Two months ago tonight I was the 'appiest I've ever bin. An' I weren't even awake. I dreamed of 'im, an' we talked, an' 'e kissed me like it mattered. I knew then that I'd carry it with me always.

But Azrael's fadin' into Simon, an' though I love 'im, it ain't enough, t'live on that mem'ry. Seems like that's what's expected o'me, though, an' of Faith - take what scraps we's given, an' though I ain't complained much fer a long time, it's getting t'be - more than I can stand, sometimes. I think of Edmund, lovely Edmund, fair knight an' true, an' 'ow I knew when I danced with 'im an' 'e kissed me that 'e was the sort of blokes girls wait for, an' I'd never get another chance but that. An' I couldn't even speak to 'im.

I don't know if 'e got my letter. Never bin into the bakery since. Too scared 'e'll recognise me, even though I 'ad a mask on. I think 'e'd know me, if 'e saw me, an' I don't want - I'm a coward, maybe, but I don't think I could bear it if 'e was disgusted. Faith says that's 'is problem, not mine, but she's always bin tougher than me. She learned to steel 'er 'eart, an' I wish sometimes I could learn an' all. But I don't know 'ow, an' then I wonder sometimes if it'd stop me feelin', an' I think of that dream, of the ripple of Azrael's name across the water, 'is cool skin under me 'and an' the joy-sorrow that sang in me like a clear 'igh bell, an' I don't want nothin' that'll stop me feelin'. But it's 'ard, it's bloody 'ard. An' I know Faith feels it too.

Bin thinkin' a lot since Sunday, when Simon came to see us, an' at last we've made a decision. Just to - talk. Not to decide nothin'. An' I won't do nothin' that feels wrong, cos there ain't nothin' fer myself I want if it comes out of 'arm. Jus' to talk, that's all.

Wrap up as best we can. Shuffle slow outside - we fall over we'll never get up, an' asides, our joints are achin' somethin' fierce. It's dark, an' no one's about on the livin' lot. Glad everyone's in their trailers an' tents, cos we don't want to explain where we're goin'.

Get to the caravan at last. Step up an' rap on the door, an' after a long while, so long we think we're goin' t'seize up, it opens.

[closed]