The (Great Nursing Home) Escape
The important thing is to keep moving; she knows that. And it is quite easy to for her to do, putting one foot in front of another until she comes to a stop. Then people may move around her and hands touch her and voices speak to her. Usually that’s nice. But, sometimes, the hands do things that hurt and voice are loud and make her ears ring. This time she can feel the cool breeze on her skin as she moves and the hard footpath under her feet, which makes a slapping sound each time she takes a step. Slap, slap, slap, slap. She enjoys the rhythm as she walks along.
There comes the low, continuous sound of a skateboard approaching behind her. Then a loud boy’s voice is saying words she cannot understand. Instinctively she crouches and covers her head with both her arms but feels the blow to her shoulder as a rush of wind and sound go past her and continue on in front.
Slowly she uncurls herself and rubs the shoulder that is sore. Tears are leaking from her eyes but not for long. A brush or two backhanded wipes them all away and sniffs take care of leakage from her nose. The footpath once again stretches out in front and only happy foot slaps reach her ears.
Smells of a barbecue fill the air and make her stomach rumble. Closer to these lovely odours, hands reach out to touch and pull her further from the heat she felt so near in front of her. Voices, mostly pleasant, come and go as she is seated in a chair and given bits of cut up sausage one by one. She loves the greasy feel and salty taste but then feels thirsty. A bottle of mineral water is held up to her lips and drinking washes out her mouth.
She feels a sudden thump upon her lap as someone’s cat jumps up and settles there. The sound of purring fills her ears and warm vibrations run across her thighs. Her hand makes contact with the furry back and strokes it softly.
A toddler staggers up and she looks down to see its hand reach out and firmly grasp the slightly twitching tail and yank. God-awful noise and sudden pain as many tiny claws puncture skin and then depart. She gazes at the toddler who is sitting at her feet, now red-faced with an open mouth. Large hands appear and whisk the toddler from her sight as other hands lift up her skirt and smooth a soothing cream on all the wounds. They soon feel better.
She must have dozed since, when she opens her eyes, more hands are pulling her gently upward and she rises. Voices eddy all around and now she hears her name; it’s Sally. She smiles and nods. Then one more word she knows and that is ‘lost’. She looks around and frowns and shakes her head. Not ‘lost’…here!
There comes the low, continuous sound of a skateboard approaching behind her. Then a loud boy’s voice is saying words she cannot understand. Instinctively she crouches and covers her head with both her arms but feels the blow to her shoulder as a rush of wind and sound go past her and continue on in front.
Slowly she uncurls herself and rubs the shoulder that is sore. Tears are leaking from her eyes but not for long. A brush or two backhanded wipes them all away and sniffs take care of leakage from her nose. The footpath once again stretches out in front and only happy foot slaps reach her ears.
Smells of a barbecue fill the air and make her stomach rumble. Closer to these lovely odours, hands reach out to touch and pull her further from the heat she felt so near in front of her. Voices, mostly pleasant, come and go as she is seated in a chair and given bits of cut up sausage one by one. She loves the greasy feel and salty taste but then feels thirsty. A bottle of mineral water is held up to her lips and drinking washes out her mouth.
She feels a sudden thump upon her lap as someone’s cat jumps up and settles there. The sound of purring fills her ears and warm vibrations run across her thighs. Her hand makes contact with the furry back and strokes it softly.
A toddler staggers up and she looks down to see its hand reach out and firmly grasp the slightly twitching tail and yank. God-awful noise and sudden pain as many tiny claws puncture skin and then depart. She gazes at the toddler who is sitting at her feet, now red-faced with an open mouth. Large hands appear and whisk the toddler from her sight as other hands lift up her skirt and smooth a soothing cream on all the wounds. They soon feel better.
She must have dozed since, when she opens her eyes, more hands are pulling her gently upward and she rises. Voices eddy all around and now she hears her name; it’s Sally. She smiles and nods. Then one more word she knows and that is ‘lost’. She looks around and frowns and shakes her head. Not ‘lost’…here!
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Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia, with flash pieces published or forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, 365 tomorrows, Akashic Books Fri Sci-fi, Antipodean Science Fiction, CarpeArte Journal, Cloudbank, Corner Bar Magazine, Curating Alexandria, Fewer Than 500, Ghost Parachute, Medusa’s Laugh, Speculative 66, Subtle Fiction, Switchblade, The Gambler, The Vignette Review and Theme of Absence.
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