Cairn Holy

Cairn Holy, Dumfries Scotland

A stone structure, unlocking the key to life’s mysteries. But what do we see? An entrance made of stone with three pillars either side, to the left, when facing the stones: the tallest stone, medium and then a small dumpy one. To the right smallest, medium and then the tallest. Each way curving in the opposite direction. Curving down and curving up.

When you look through the entrance, the central erected stones, there is an opening, a physical space to walk through. But one must enter sideways, as the space doesn’t allow the shoulders of an average human in 2024, to walk through it. Once passed the entrance you are in the enclosed tiny space, which must have had a lid at some stage, with a prominent back wall, made from a slab of stone.  With your back to wall, you can look straight through the central stones to see the vast fields and landscape in front of you. The enclosed space is claustrophobic and all-consuming.  If you close your eyes and crouch down to imagine the roof that was once there, you seep into the darkness, the smell of earth beneath your feet, the coldness of the stone against your skin.

The vast landscape makes your mind race to try and take it all in, but as you force your mind to settle and sit with the experience, your mind begins to become at peace with the space. Peace comes from within as the landscape silently does its thing and you relax into the vastness. No feelings of oppression outside the structure just tears, that silently fall, at all the beauty in front of you.

The Well

‘Mama, mama, come quick, Peter has fallen down the well’.

Ruth places the spoon she’s holding, on the stove. Wiping her hands on her pinny as she runs out of the house.  She is a small, slight in stature but a strong woman. Her floor length skirt and apron made from a heavy material trail along the floor, as she follows her daughter across the field. She doesn’t bother to ask questions, how and why? She just concentrates on running forward, to see what needs to be done and to know her son is safe and alive.

The fields seem to be never ending. Running and running, she loses her foot down a rabbit hole, which stops her in her tracks, halting her moving forward, looking down, she realises her foot is stuck.

 ‘Mama come on, mama’

Ruth tugs at her foot to try to pull it free; she twists it in the boot and finally it releases.  The foot is throbbing from the unprepared fall. Ruth yanks the boot out of the hole, whilst balancing on one foot. Slipping the foot back inside the boot, she looks up to see her daughter is nowhere to be seen, she begins to run again towards the known well.

Arriving at the Well, her daughter is laying down, face in the opening, shouting:

‘It’s ok, mama is here now’

She looks up to see her mother standing over her, looking into the well.

‘Peter, are you hurt? Anything broken?’

‘No mama, my elbow is bleeding, and it hurts, my head hurts too, I’ve banged my head but I’m ok.’

Ruth starts to scan the area; she doesn’t know what she is looking for but will know it when she sees it. Lifting bits of wood and debris that is lying around to see what there is, underneath. 

‘Mary’

Ruth motions for her daughter to stand, Ruth holds both her arms and crouches down to her level, to look into her eyes.

‘Go to Mr Spencer’s farm and ask for help, he must bring rope and a flashlight’

‘Mama - no. We mustn’t go to Mr Spencer’s farm, papa said never to go there.’

‘We have no choice; the light is fading, and we must get Peter out of the well, before darkness comes.’

‘But mama…’

‘Mary, now go, run, run as fast as you can.  Don’t stop until you get to Mr Spencer’s, say your mama needs him and tell him about Peter and the well.’

Mary searches her mother’s face to see if she really means it. She does. Loosening her mother’s grip, freeing herself, she turns and runs. Ruth stands motionless for a few seconds watching Mary run as fast as she can, away, across the open fields.

‘Now Peter, what can you see down there, is there anything to stand on? Any rope?’ Ruth shouts into the well.

‘No mama, nothing’

‘I’m scared, mama, it’s cold. My feet are cold, mama.’

‘I know son. Help is coming, I promise you.’

‘Keep moving from one foot to the other’

‘I can’t mama, it hurts.’

Ruth shouts, as she continues to look around for anything that resembles something that could help lift Peter out of the well.  Lifting wood, broken debris, scrap and fabric that is laying around.  She continues to talk to Peter, as she moves frantically around the space above the well.

‘Peter, are you okay? Peter.’

Ruth rushes over to the neck of the well and peers down, Peter has slumped against the wall of the well; head rolled over facing his chest, his lower half of his body submerged in the water.

‘Peter, Peter’

Ruth, shouts

‘Peter, son, Peter!’

Ruth starts to clap her hands frantically.

‘Peter, Son, come on now, wake up, you need to stay awake son, you can’t fall asleep now. Come on son. PETER!’

Peter lifts his head

‘Sorry mama, I’m so tired and cold and the pain mama.’

‘I know, but you need to stay awake for me, you need to keep moving, lets sing a song, which song do you want to sing?’

Peter starts to sing from the bottom of the well.

‘If you go down in the woods today,

You’re sure of a big surprise,

If you go down to the woods today….’

‘Good boy, keep singing, keep singing Peter, I can see Mary and Mr Spencer, they are coming, they are running to us, Peter.’

Ruth watches as Mr Spencer and Mary approach the well.  Mr Spencer is tall in stature with broad shoulders, powerful and strong in build, from working in the fields. He’s carrying a large amount of rope that is draped over one shoulder and his body to enable him to run with haste.  Mary looks tiny next to him, her little legs seem to be going ten strides to Mr Spencer’s two, Mary’s waving frantically with a big beam on her face. Acknowledging that she’s done what was asked of her and help is here.

Ruth waves back and smiles.

‘They are here Peter, everything with be ok now.’

Mr Spencer and Mary arrive in front of Ruth and the well.  No words or eye contact are exchanged.  Mr Spencer evaluates the situation, looking down the well at Peter and frantically looking around on the surface. He drops the heavy rope to the ground with ease and takes one end of it, Mary and Ruth watch on as he sets to work - working out how to get Peter out of the well.  Mr Spencer loops the heavy rope around the nearest tree and ties a knot. Tugging on the rope to check it is secure and it is. Mr Spencer still continuously tugging on the rope walks the excess back towards the well.

‘Now Peter I am going to drop the rope down to you.  Put your body against the wall’

Mr Spencer throws the rope down.  As it hits the water at the bottom, a splash can be heard, echoing throughout the well.

‘Peter, I want you to get hold of the rope, and I will pull the rope, to pull you out.’

‘Okay’

The light is fading fast, Mary and Ruth laydown, faces looking down into the well.

‘Go on son, get hold of the rope and Mr Spencer is going to pull you out.’

‘Peter, hold the rope’ Mary shouts with encouragement.

Peter reaches for the rope that has been dropped down and that is leaning against the side of the well. He clasps it with both hands.

‘He’s holding it’ Ruth states, looking up at Mr Spencer but moving her face quickly away, so as not to make eye contact.

‘Ok, now Peter I’m going to pull the rope, and I need you to hold it as tight as you possibly can.  When you start lifting off the ground, I want you to put your flat feet on the side of the well and walk up as I pull you out. Do you understand?’ Bellows Mr Spencer

‘Yes’, the reply comes from the bottom of the well.

Mr Spencer begins to pull the rope gently, slowly it begins to move up out of the well.  He is standing firm and strong with one leg in front of the other, slightly leaning back to create more force behind his pull on the rope. Mr Spencer is at ease with the task, his strong and powerful body sees no strain. He is a distance away from the well, so is unaware that Peter has lost hold of the rope.

‘Stop, Joseph, Mr Spencer, Peter has lost his grip’ cries Ruth

Mr Spencer drops the rope to the ground and moves over to look into the well.  Peter is sat in the shallow water looking up.

‘I’m sorry, I cannot hold the rope. My arms hurt, I’m so cold, mama’

‘It’s okay son, I know.’

Ruth is quickly to her feet, now looking in Mr Spencer’s eyes, Mary is soon by her side, holding her mama’s hand.

‘I will go down and tie the rope around his waist and you will pull him out, throw the rope again and then you will have to pull me out.’

‘No mama, you cannot go down, it’s too dangerous, no mama.’

‘Please mama, no, I will go get Papa and he will go.’

‘My child, we have no time, the light is fading fast, I must be the one to do this’ As Ruth says these words aloud, she looks Mr Spencer in the eyes. And he nods back.

Mary begins to sob, covering her face in her hands. Mr Spencer gently pulls the rope completely out of the well.

Ruth lays on floor, head down the well.

‘Peter, son, I am going to come down to you, Peter, son, look up at mama. Peter!’

No response comes from Peter and with that Ruth is quickly to her feet, she is unbuttoning her skirt and apron, lets them fall to the ground, showing her undergarments. Mary shrieks with the horror.  Mr Spencer ties the fully retrieved rope around Ruth’s waist, with two knots, pulling it tight, checking it twice. The wet of the rope dripping down the white undergarments. Ruth walks the short distance to the entrance of the well.  Turning her back to hole, she grabs the rope with both hands. Arching her back, she nods to Mr Spencer.  He gently, with great precision starts to enable the rope to slacken, as Ruth descends into the well.

Mary is no longer sobbing but laying, face down in the well, watching her mother slowly lower herself into the well.  Walking her body, with only her feet against the wall of the well.  Holding her curved body by her hands gripped around the strong and rough rope.  She gasps out loud, as her mother’s foot slips on the wall of the well but silences herself by covering her mouth with her clasped hands.

Ruth’s feet hit the freezing shallow water; a sudden rush of adrenalin runs through her body.  Frantically as she starts to talk to Peter, she begins to try to undo the rope around her waist.  It has two knots, pulled so tight by Mr Spencer and her hands are so cold, that it seems impossible to undo the knots. All the while she is trying to awaken a shocked, cold and traumatised Peter.

‘Peter, son, you need to waken for me, son I am here, you are safe.’

Mary begins to sob silently again, as she watches on; her mother desperately trying to unknot the rope.  Ruth’s hands move over the knots in rope, tugging this way and that way, pulling to slacken them, it is no use, she can’t do it. She bends down to Peter, her knees and bottom, now submerged in the water.

‘My boy you must awaken, I cannot unknot the rope and we must get out of the well. There is only a small fraction of daylight left.’

Peter’s eyes open and a smile forms, across his whole face to see his mother in front of him. He holds her with a gigantic embrace. Sobbing and sobbing.

‘I’m sorry mama, Mary and I were playing and I…’

‘Enough now, it doesn’t matter.’

Ruth lifts Peter and places him on the knot of the rope, his face, facing her. He puts one arm around her body and burrows his head into her neck.  Ruth with her feet firmly on the ground smacks the rope against the wall, encouraging Mr Spencer to start to pull the rope.  Mercifully unaware that it is both of them he is now pulling up the well, not just Peter.

Mr Spencer feels the harsh movement of the rope and knows it is his sign to start to pull the rope again. He corrects his stance and leans his body back ready to take on the force of the weight. However, he is shocked at the weight of the rope and what must be on the end of it.  This isn’t like lowering the rope with a slight small woman attached, helping him by slowly walking down into the well.  This is completely different. He looks to Mary and their eyes meet as she looks up to see why he isn’t pulling the two of them out of the well.

‘It’s mama and Peter, Mama can’t open the knots on the rope.’

He nods, silently acknowledging the changed situation.  Holding the rope slack, he walks over to the tree where the rope is fastened and loosens the rope. Mr Spencer sits at the base of the tree, with his back against it, taking the rope that is around the tree, he now ties it around himself and the tree. Bending his legs, whilst digging the heel of his boots into the ground, he begins to pull the rope. The whole of his upper body must bend forward to create the force to start the rope moving. His big hands clasping around the rope, he heaves physically and verbally, as he pulls the rope along the ground.

Mary watches on as her mother and brother begin to ascend up the wall of the well.  Ruth’s heavy booted feet flat against the rounded wall, her hands clasped, as tightly as they can, about the rope.  Ruth’s body is curved, almost into a sitting position, carrying her son on her lap.  He is now slumped over and unable to offer any help to the situation. As the pulled rope moves upwards, slowly, so does Ruth, walking up the wall and holding on for dear life. Ruth is completely aware of what would happen if she lost her grip or footing; her son would tumble to the ground and she would hang in the air by the rope until the rope too, tumbled to the ground. Ruth shakes this image from her mind and stays focused on the climb out of the well.

It begins to become lighter, lighter than she has seen it since arriving at the bottom of the well. She knows the mouth of the well is close by. She can see the shadow of Mary on her feet, moving back and forth around the hole of well, wondering what to do next.  Her feet are almost at the top of the well, Ruth without flinching or making eye contact, states very clearly to Mary.

‘Mary, I want you to take your brother off my lap. Mr Spencer cannot let go of the rope, so he cannot help you. You must do it in one big movement, with all your might drag him onto the ground away from the well.’

Mary looks scared, her eyes hold fear but determination, she is fully aware that she has to do this, get her brother from her mother’s lap.  Mary crouches to the ground, putting her feet firmly under the taut rope, which is running along the ground from Mr Spencer and the tree to her mother. Mary leans forward, trying not to touch her mother, trying desperately not to put more weight onto her. Keeping her feet under the rope she moves her seated bottom to the edge of the well. Mary’s back is almost towards the neck of the well, she twists her body to the left, where her mother’s feet are and leans down. She can feel her brother’s wet clothes and small frame within in them, she puts her arms around his torso, under his arms, takes a deep breath.

‘Count to three and then drag him with all your might.’ Ruth states clearly.

‘One, two, three’

In one swift movement, Mary swoops down and takes her brother off her mother’s lap, dragging him onto the ground above.  The pressure of the movement makes Ruth lose her footing. Ruth’s body jerks suddenly and her legs go under, as her face falls rapidly towards the wall of the well.  She manages in time to put her hand up to break the contact with the wall and her face.

Mary stands, quickly freeing her feet from under the taut rope.  She screams as she looks in to the well, her mother in dangling, almost lifeless by her waist. Mary turns to Mr Spencer and shouts

‘Pull, pull mama out, she’s going to fall!’

Without hesitation Mr Spencer pulls the rope has hard as he can, simultaneously letting out a roar. A roar of defiance, a roar of pure strength, as if he had to dig down deeper within his soul to find the strength.  The last bit of strength to pull a slight yet strong women from the well. Ruth jolted with the ferocious pull on the rope, making her vertical with the wall of the well. She was able to put her hands over the top and feel the solid floor outside of it, she curled her toes up against the wall, to try and leverage herself up. Another pull on the rope from Mr Spencer brings half her body out of the well, scraping her upper torso along the stones and muddied floor.  Mary runs over, starts pulling at one arm, pulling her further and further away from the mouth of the well. Once her full body is on the floor, Mary collapses to the floor beside her mother.

Ruth rolls over, she looks up to the sky and whispers ‘thank you.’

Peter and Mary crawl over to their mother and fall into her arms, the three of them laying there, sobbing into each other. Tears stream down their cheeks as they hold each other in their arms. Ruth moving from one to another, kissing them on their heads, one after the other, over and over.

Still not letting go of her children, Ruth strains her head backwards to check on Mr Spencer.  He is sat slumped against the tree, head down against his chest, breathing slowly and heavily - still clutching the rope that is no longer holding a human. He looks up to catch Ruth’s gaze and gives a heavy smile and lets his head roll back downwards onto his chest once more, to concentrate on regulating his breathing.

Ruth and the children must have fallen to asleep, because the next time she opens her eyes its pitch-black outside.  On opening her eyes, she sees Mr Spencer standing over her. His head is surrounded by the darkness of the night and the stars. The moon is shining through his hair and creating a shimmering of light on his square and defined features. His rope is coiled back around his body, over one shoulder and across the length of his chest. He puts out his hand for Ruth to take hold of, she relaxes her grip of her children and releases her body from theirs and stands using his strong and powerful hand to pull her on her feet. She steps away from the two small children coiled on the floor. Mr Spencer gives her, her skirt and apron and she begins to place them back on her slight frame, using Mr Spencer’s arm to steady her, when standing on one leg. Once completely dressed, Ruth stands as tall as she can to meet Mr Spencer’s gaze, holds both of his hands and whispers.

‘Thank you, Joseph.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

Mr Spencer nods and walks over to Peter and picks up the sleeping boy with ease. He waits, the moon shining down on his great height, now with the moonlight also catching Peter’s head, balancing perfectly in the crook of Mr Spencer’s arm. Ruth gently wakes a sleeping and exhausted Mary, encouraging her to stand and start to walk.  Mary nestles into her mother’s body, and she places her protective arm around her as they begin the walk back home.

Mr Spencer, carrying Peter, Ruth and Mary walk in unison together, creating a shadowed curve upon the ground from the moon. All too weary to converse or even think about what just happened. The route back is known by heart but is still rather difficult with only the flashlight Ruth is holding and the light from the moon behind them. Ruth points the flashlight to the ground to expose as much as she possibly can of the uneven ground. Mr Spencer the large strong figure walking next to her, adjusts the position of the sleeping Peter, so he is almost carrying him over one shoulder, using his right arm and hand.

‘Are you hurt? You’re limping?’  he asks of Ruth.

‘Oh yes I am.  Oh that: I did that running towards the well, caught in a rabbit hole. That feels like a lifespan ago now. I’d forgotten all about it. Yes, it does feel painful, so does my back, I think I hurt that in the well.’

‘Do you need to rest?’

‘No - we need to get Peter home and fetch for Dr Marshall to come and look him over.’

They continue on in silence, Mr Spencer occasionally using his free hand to support Ruth by her elbow, as she navigates the uneven ground.

Mary’s full-length skirt is covered in mud. It is soaked through leading it to hang and trail along the ground, more than normal, which in turn causes her to keep stumbling and Ruth having to continuously keep pulling her up by the armpit.

‘Sorry mama’

Ruth smiles each time and kisses her on the head.

The final field arrives, and the erected stones can be seen in the distance, the moon is shining directly on them, showing them the way home. The way to safety, the way to warmth and shelter.  The stones are still slightly wet from the rain that fell this afternoon, creating the stones to glisten in the moonlight, even more.  They look magnificent.  It’s as if they knew they had to reflect the moon even brighter tonight; the best it possibly could, to create a beacon of light, for four weary survivors.

Mary looks at her mother, with a full grin on her face - she knows what this means, she’s home. And Ruth returns with a smile and further kiss on the forehead.

As the group of four walk towards the stones, a figure can be seen pacing back and forth in front of them. A medium sized figure that looks like a man from the distance between them. Ruth lifts the flashlight to show their presence, and figure begins to walk towards the light.  Mary loosens her grip of her mother’s hand and starts to run towards the figure.

‘Papa’

‘It’s Papa!’  shouts Mary turning to look at her mother for confirmation. Ruth nods and Mary runs on.

Mr Spencer and Ruth look on as Mary and her father run towards each other. They watch as the two meet one another’s path and embrace. Mary has been lifted into the air by her father, kissing and hugging her all the while. 

Ruth lets the flashlight drop back down to the uneven ground to guide their final steps towards the stones.  Mr Spencer’s hand catches Ruth’s hand and he gently holds her tiny hand for a second before Ruth pulls it away. Mr Spencer lets his head hang, as if Ruth has used words to chastise him.

They walk in silence, not uttering a word to each other. They reach Mary and her father William. No words are exchanged between the two men, they look at one another fully in the face, making direct eye contact. William opens his arms and Mr Spencer places Peter gently into William’s poised open arms.  Peter murmurs and opens his eyes ‘Papa’ and begins to sob again. William nods at Mr Spencer and turns on his heels carrying Peter with Mary chatting away frantically about what happened, running next to him, to keep up with his stride.

‘I will go gather Dr Marshall.’

Mr Spencer and Ruth watch as William, carrying Peter, and Mary walk the lane beside the stone structure. No flashlight needed here, as the path is carved out and laid with stones, it’s an uneven ground so you can lose your footing, but Mary and William know the way home like the back of their hands. William looks back only once to catch Ruth’s eye, her eyes acknowledge his gaze and meaning. Ruth turns to Mr Spencer offering for him to take his flashlight, which he does in one hand.

‘I cannot thank you enough, Joseph, Mr Spencer.’ Ruth shakes her head and lets her eye contact slip away.

‘It is unthinkable what might have happened if you had not arrived. I am so grateful for everything and will repay you in kind.’

Mr Spencer puts his hand out to touch hers and Ruth retracts both her hands behind her back quickly. Mr Spencer tall stature and Ruth’s slight tiny frame means he has to stretch his neck down, desperately trying to meet Ruth’s gaze. She doesn’t allow it and starts to walk away. Mr Spencer grabs her hand as she quickly moves past him.

‘I would do anything for you.’

Ruth pulls her hand away and doesn’t reply, she looks forward, striding away from the stones and Mr Spencer. Mr Spencer doesn’t move, just watches her move quickly away from him. Her feet move so quickly, she almost breaks into a run. He watches until her tiny figure is just part of the vast scenery and she can be seen no more.  He sits on the large stone in front of the entrance to the stone structure. He can feel the cold against his skin, even with his heavy field work trousers upon him. He sits and looks out at the vast fields in front of him, he looks down at the palm of his hands they are covered in mud, his fingers nails embedded with dirt.  They are torn to shreds and feel rough from pulling the coarse wet rope, that is still wound around is torso. He closes his eyes, lifting his head, allowing the moonlight to catch his face. He can see Ruth before him.

Peter

Ruth hurries away from the Stones and Mr Spencer.  She doesn’t look back once but can feel that Mr Spencer hasn’t stopped looking and watching her hurry away.  She is walking so fast that her strides become a run.  She has further to go than her own home due to Dr Marshalls residing in a cottage situated beyond the next two fields.  Realising she doesn’t have a flashlight, only the light from the moon, she begins to search her memory for the way in the across the fields.  At this point it doesn’t matter, as she has the road to guide her - to guide her away from the sacred Stones and towards civilisation, a scattering of houses and plots of land that belong to the families, that live around her.

As she runs along the path, she notices that it is rather still wet, the moon makes the ground glisten somewhat, it is also catching the beautiful stone walls.  The beautiful walls made with the stones that her ancestors found and built with their own hands. These walls that help guide her tonight as she runs to Dr Marshall to bring him to her only son.

Her son, Peter who is now sat by the open fire, wrapped tenderly in the blanket by his father. His sister by his side, talking to him about the well and running for Mr Spencer.  About being frightened as she knows they are not allowed to talk to him, but father has forgiven her and mother as he knows they had no choice. Father was in the Mine, so it would have been too late to gather him to come and rescue Peter.

Peter winces in pain ever so often and Mary stops to look, each time from Peter to her father without any words exchanged. Her Father, William’s constant response is of concern and worry, which does not settle Mary but makes her talk even more about the heroic way their mother got him out of the well, her words are fast and cumbersome, as she tries to distract Peter from the pain and also her thoughts of anguish.

Mary’s clothes are beginning to dry out next to the roaring fire, she’s taken her boots and socks off and placed them by the fire to dry, the mud is still caked on the soles of her boots, a visual reminder of the fields she has crossed today.  She gently removes her brother’s boots from his feet, kneeling on the floor, next to chair he is sitting in. He lets out a shriek when she takes off his left boot, William runs over straight away.

‘Papa, I’m sorry, I was trying to make him warm.’

‘Mary, it is okay.’

‘Peter, where does it hurt, son?’

‘My foot, my elbow, my head, my leg.’

‘Mother will be here soon with Dr Marshall.’

Mary lays her hand on her brother’s head and kisses his hair, she sits back at his feet, consuming the heat of the fire on her bare feet, lifting her skirt to catch the warmth on her chins. She begins again to do what she does best and that is to talk; to talk again about the day, the well, the rope, their mother’s strength and courage.

Mary begins to recall the incident of Peter falling down the well. William sits in the second and last chair in front of the fire. Peter stokes the fire and adds a further log; the embers escape into the air as the wood lands, causing Mary to move her bare legs and feet back in anticipation of getting seared from the flying tiny embers. An instinctual motion for Mary from learnt behaviour.

‘Found You!’

‘Come on Peter, it is my turn to hide, Peter, I have found you’

Peter is crouched behind a stub of a tree, laying low trying not to be found. Mary is skipping around him in sheer delight that he was so easy to find. Her little brother thinking he can trick her by laying down behind the stump of a tree, it was never going to work.  Peter stands, dusting off the main debris of leaves and dirt that has attached themselves to his trousers. Smoothing over his hair with his hands he’s ready to count and let his sister hide.

‘Now you cannot cheat, Peter.’

‘You must count properly, just like Miss Stewart has taught you to do so and do not open your eyes’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise.’

Peter walks over to a strong sturdy tree, puts his hands over his eyes and leans in, pressing his face against the tree. He starts the count slowly and loudly for his sister to know it is time to hide.  Mary runs not in a straight line, imitating a dog that’s been let off its lead, crossing this way and that way, frantically looking for a cunning place to hide.  Mary decides upon a large tree, runs behind and crouches down, using the long grass surrounding it to hide her further from her brother who is about to stop counting and start looking.  Her body is so close to the ground that she can feel the wetness from the rain on the grass seeping through her clothes at the knee, where she is kneeling. Mary lifts her knee to try to stop the water absorbing into her clothing, to no avail.

Peter stops counting and removes his hands from his eyes, his eyes take a little time to adjust to the light and his surroundings, realising that perhaps he had being pressing too hard with his hands.  He shouts from behind the tree.

‘Coming ready or not!’

He starts to seek his sister out, first running over to the fallen tree, to see if she is resting beside it. No, she is not there. Again, he runs over to a full wood fern standing alone amongst the tree’s, moving the beautiful large leaves to hopefully see his sister.  No, this is not his sister’s hiding place.  Peter takes a moment to enjoy the fragrance he has just created by moving the leaves, a sweet and woody smell, the dew of the rain dropping onto his hands. Peter lifts his hands to his face, cupping them around his nose and takes a deep breath. Momentarily losing himself into the spirit of the plant. The creaking of a branch being stood on, behind him, brings him straight back to what he should be doing - looking for Mary. He turns quickly to try and catch the culprit, but no one is there, just the small woodland on the edge of a field, that they both started the game in.

‘Mary, I know you are there. I am going to find you.’

Peter starts to move very slowly towards the largest tree, simultaneously as Mary starts to move away from hiding behind it.  Peter tiptoes, so gently and light footed towards the tree, checking constantly the wooded floor beneath him, so not to walk on a twig or branch, that could cause a sound.  Mary meanwhile crawls almost with her whole body against the floor, away from the tree, heading towards the tree stump. Keeping her head down, her heart beating fast, only turning to check now and then to regard the progress of her brother’s whereabouts. 

Peter continues towards the tree only to find that Mary isn’t there. She isn’t behind the tree, the final large hiding place in the space.  He walks around the huge tree, as if he may have missed her, when arriving at it, but to no avail.  She’s definitely not there.

‘I give up, Mary, you win! I’ve looked everywhere for you’ shouts Peter

‘I am going back home. I can never find you. I am going home.’

‘Peter, I can see you’

Mary shouts in a ghostlike voice from behind him, Peter turns quickly hoping to see her.

‘Peter, I can see you.’

Peter starts running to where the voice is coming from, his little legs are moving so fast.  He needs - he wants to find his sister this time and he will.  This time he is going to find her.

Peter is nimble while he runs, jumping over broken debris that is littered amongst the trees, cloth, bark, leaves, bits of metal.

‘Peter, I can see you.’

Mary looks up from her hiding place, watching her brother sprint so fast across towards her, he’s going to find her this time. She momentarily waits, should she move or stay where she is? And in split second he is gone, gone from view, gone from sight.  Mary rubs her eyes as if it was a magic trick, but her brother is nowhere to be seen.

‘Peter!!’ she shouts meekly. And then a full pelt scream ‘Peter’ as he gets to her feet in haste.

‘Peter!’ Mary starts running over to the place where she last visually saw her brother.

‘Peter!’

Mary screeches to a halt, as she notices a hole in the ground, frantically gets to ground level, moving the leaves and debris to reveal the mouth of the well. Laying on her stomach, she peers into the well. Rubbing her eyes to try and help with the difference in the light outside and inside the well.

‘Peter, Peter, are you in there? Peter.’

There is no noise from the well apart from the eerie echo of Mary’s voice. Mary can see her brother’s body slumped into a crumbled heap at the bottom; he seems to be holding onto a round metal grate, the covering of the exposed well. Peter must have grabbed hold of the grate when he fell through, hoping it would stop him falling into the well. Mary looks around to see a metal rod lying on the floor, she picks it up and starts bashing it against the ridge of the well.

‘Peter, wake up, Peter!’

It isn’t working, Mary puts the rod down and starts to search the ground, picking up small stones.  She collects a handful and runs back over to the well.  She gently throws one, it hits the water surrounding her brother. The splosh of the stone hitting the water, echoes up the mouth of the well. Mary throws another one and another one, until there are none left in her palm.

‘Peter!’

Mary picks up a large stone, holds it against the side of the well, the furthest away from her brother and lets it fall.  It falls in what feels like slow motion and lands with an almighty splash at the bottom.  The splashed water hits Peter’s face and awakens him from the fall. He is jolted back to life by the water hitting his face, alarmingly waking him from his loss of consciousness. Lifting his head he startled, looking at his hands holding the grate.  He pushes the grate to one side and looks around him. Taking in his surroundings, Peter lifts his hands to his face, feels his face all over, lifts his legs but squeals with the pain of doing so.  The squeals alerts Mary who is watching her brother awaken and come back to this world.

‘Peter, look up, it’s me Mary.’

Peter looks up to see his big sister beaming down on him.

‘Mary what has happened? Why am I down here?’

‘You fell through when you were running over to me? We were playing hide and seek?’

‘I don’t remember Mary.’

‘That’s okay Peter, I am going to have to go get mama.’

‘No, no don’t leave me, Mary, please.’

Mary is on her feet and peering down!

‘I have to, I can’t get you out.’

‘Mary…!’  Peter shouts, and I start the run back to mama.

Mary ends her tale here and they are back in the cottage by the roaring fire, not wanting to talk about the part of the story about Mr Spencer.

William looks at Mary and then to Peter and then back to Mary. He leans down and touches her hand that is wrapped around her legs, pulling herself in tight like a ball, to protect herself from the story that she has been telling her father. 

‘I’m sorry father, you always tell me to keep Peter safe when we are outside the home, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t.’

Mary burrows her hand into her bent knees and clutches her arms and sobs. Real big tears, tears of regret and the tears of how different the outcome could have been. Her father, William, gets off his chair and cradles the tight coiled human ball, his daughter. He lets her continue to sob and sob and rocks back and forth with her, until the tears begin to subside.  They unravel from each other, Marys feet are on the ground, her knees still bent, and she looks up at her father and he looks at her and smiles.

 ‘Mary it was not your fault, it was an accident, the grate must have been loose for Peter to step on it and fall through.’

They both look at Peter, still wrapped in the blanket, in the same position as before, in the chair. Drifting in and out of sleep, recoiling in pain now and then.

‘Peter is here with us and that is because of you, you made that happen by going to get mama straight away.  You are my brave and only girl. No matter what happens Peter is here with us now and that is because of you.’

Mary and her father, William embrace again, and Mary begins to sob once more, at the forgiveness she has just received from her papa. Her papa that she loves very dearly.

Doctor Marshall

Ruth is almost there at the gate or Dr Marshall; she can see a faint glow from the candles and open fire in the downstairs left window.  The wooden gate is a little warped from the damp weather and she has to barge it with her right hip; in doing so she feels an intense pain in her thigh. Rubbing her thigh, she runs up the stone path, almost tripping near the front step. She knocks with force on the door and doesn’t stop until it is opened, and a man is stood before her.

‘Oh Doctor Marshall, I am so sorry to knock so late but it’s our son Peter he’s fallen down the disused well in Mr Spencer’s field.’

Dr Marshall leans across without breaking eye contact and retrieves his coat from the hook on the wall.

‘My goodness Ruth, we are going to struggle to get him out, there is no light. We’ll have to round up all the farmers and ask them to bring torches.’

‘No, no, I, Mr Spencer and I got him out before the light faded but he is hurt. William has him at home, with Mary. They are safe but Peter is in great pain.’

Dr Marshall sits on the bench under the hanging coats and pulls his boots on, tying them quickly. His battered and well-used doctors bag is underneath the bench. Dr Spencer reaches underneath to reclaim it, no eyes are needed, he knows exactly where it is.  He stands, Ruth takes a step back, Dr Marshall walks out the hall and doorway, pulling the door closed behind him.  It’s like watching a silent dance between them, no words needed to be said, they know what they needed to do.

Ruth hurries down the stone path, once more, pulling the gate fully open to allow both of them through, Dr Marshall pulls it shut behind them, as they begin their journey towards Peter.  Ruth lifts her skirt slightly off the ground to free her to sprint at a more acceptable pace, Dr Marshall is now slightly in front.

‘Ruth, what body part did he fall on?’

‘I don’t know Doctor, he was playing with Mary, but when I retrieved him from the well, his leg and arm were damaged and bruised.’

‘Rescued? You? How?’

‘Oh, Mr Spencer came and helped me, I sent Mary for him. Peter couldn’t use his arm to be pulled out of the well, so I went down, and Mr Spencer pulled us both out.’

No words were spoken from the doctor, just a look of horror at such a feat that had taken place, as the world passed by unaware of what was happening.  They continued together running towards the small house further on the hillside, the smoke from the fire through the chimney signalling their way home. It was pitch black, they only had the moon to guide them, Ruth limped on one foot a few times as she ran, when she caught her ankle awkwardly on the uneven ground, a reminder of today’s events.

As the two of them approach the final slope of the hill, leading to the house, they can see William pacing in front of the wall surrounding the house.  The light from the house is flooding out of the open front door.  The figure of Mary runs to William, they can be seen conversing, Mary raising her arms in the air and pointing back towards the house.  They both, William and Mary run back inside, leaving the door fully open.  The doctor and Ruth turn to each other and look into each other’s eyes, with no words spoken, they pick up speed and move as quickly as they can towards the house.

‘Oh god no, please no, what has happened, Peter.’

Ruth screams out into the dark night. No answer is returned, just the panting of her laboured breath as she runs the last part home.  They arrive at the boundary of the house; Ruth flings the gate open and runs up the path, straight through the open doorway.

‘the doctor is here, he’s here., I’ve got him.’

Doctor Marshall follows behind and once in the living room, moves towards Peter who is now slumped in the chair, everyone steps backwards, as if he is parting the sea to show the path to Peter.

Mary runs over to her mother, they embrace without taking their eyes of Peter and continue to stand like this, watching on, whilst encapsulated in each other’s arms.  William moves towards the embraced couple, standing behind he kisses his wife, Ruth on the head and squeezes his daughters arm. 

‘I need to lie him down’

William pulls the rug away from the fire and places in more central in the room. Doctor Marshall stands to allow William to scoop his son in his arms and place his gently on the rug, Ruth loosens the blanket around Peter at the same time, so he’s lying on the rug and blanket.  Ruth and William once again step back, as the doctor kneels next to Peter on the floor.  Placing his bag next to Peter, he undoes the clip at the top and the bag springs open.  He reaches in to retrieve his stethoscope, placing the item in his ears, the doctor begins to listen to Peters chest and back. He gently moves him on to his side, William quickly is down on his knee’s helping the doctor. Peter makes a painful growl, as the cold stethoscope is placed under his clothes by the doctor.  Mary lets out a little yelp, as she watches her brother in pain on the floor, he’s placed onto his back and the doctor using his hands, feel his stomach.

The doctor moves his hands in a circular motion around his bare stomach, pressing hard. Peter only reacts when the doctor pushes on the centre of his stomach, he lets out a searing moan that echoes throughout the whole house. Ruth is on her kneels, stroking her son’s face and hair.

‘Peter, mama is here. Mama is here.’

The doctor continues to examine Peter, checking his pulse and temperature, moving his arms and legs. When he moves Peter’s left leg and ankle it is clear that there is a problem, as the screech that leaves Peters body is so intense, Mary lets out a scream herself and hides her face into her father’s body. William cradles Mary in his arms and kisses the top of her head.

#shortstory #unfinished #competition #cairnholy #stones #scotland #dumfries #proud