Memories of flower and bird and wind and world, and all the living and all the dead.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Desperate for a sibling, I did the only thing possible. I made one up. A brother. Clearly, having made him up I could choose all the characteristics: dark hair and blue eyes, like Dad and brave beyond belief. Tall! He was tall. No-one in my family is tall. They all think I'm tall and I'm 5'4"!
Obviously, I had to make him a good bit older since he couldn't go to the same school. That trumped the Evil Little Witch in our class who had a brother who was four years older. ELW was the most spiteful child I have ever encountered both as a child and a parent. She took it on herself to tell us a lie about Father Christmas, explaining that we were all stupid babies. I was terrified to tell my parents in case I didn't get any more presents. Another child, from a very poor home, was told that she had ruined ELW's birthday because she hadn't come in the right clothes. The little girl ran home sobbing. ELW had a gang and she instructed all the wannabe ELWs in pinching, shoving, tripping up. ELW grew up to be a teacher and has a look of permanent dissatisfaction on her face. A mouth like a dog's bottom, if you know your Roald Dahl.
My older brother could do everything. Climbed the tallest trees, told the best stories, kept me supplied with the best sweets (Sherbet Dabs, if you're interested). And he never found his little squirt of a sister boring or too slow or too babyish. I was never lonely when he was around since we did all the exciting things together involving climbing trees, jumping off dangerous places, tracking and using pen knives. Let's face it he was the greatest. He may have learned to drive by the time he was twelve and was certainly a pilot by the age of fifteen. I was always a bit hazy about his exact age. It sort of depended on who I was talking to.
As he became more interesting, the other children became more curious about him. By the time he'd flown to the USA on his own, they were gagging to see him. I tried to protect him from their prying eyes by sending him off on secret missions . But nothing worked.
So I did the only thing possible.
I killed him.
So there, that sweet faced little girl is really a murderer.