Inside Out: A Pagan Tale for the Child Within. Heather Brunton
they were laughing and clowning around they might have gone on forever.
She was midway around the course and veered off now to leave the street and enter the park. Hedges lined the track that led to the toilet block. She paused outside the structure to breathe in the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine which grew in a wild tangle across the building. It was beautiful here. She could turn in any direction and see walkers appearing between the houses that ringed the park. From this aspect, the signs of poverty that were obvious at some of the state houses were hidden behind scrubs and trees. They were a mismatched lot perhaps poverty was their only link, though some houses were neat and clean while others were really run down and in need of paint and a few were missing glass from their windows. Those were the worst to pass, the kids dull eyed and ragged, the parents drunk and uncaring most of the time. The cleanliness of the toilet block was the first thing Maisey noticed as she entered and leaned over the basin to splash water over her face.
Half a lap to go, she thought.
The cold water was great. She let it trickle down her neck as she stood upright and blinked, to focus properly. Light from an overhead skylight flickered creating a strobe effect in the dimness of the room.
Whoa I feel weird, kinda dizzy.
She held onto the bench to steady herself as the room began to spin. It seemed to be getting faster as her legs buckled and she fell to the floor unconscious.
CHAPTER TWO
I must’ve passed out, thought the girl as she reached for the bench to pull herself upright. The sun was a dull glare as she steadied herself and tried to turn the tap. But it was stiffer than she remembered. Finally it gave a screech and sputtered and spewed forth a vile brown mud. The putrid stench of it filled the girl’s nostrils and the ice-cream she’d eaten made a hasty retreat as she gagged over the basin.
When she had emptied her stomach she stood upright trying to regain her balance as a wave of heat washed over her.
‘That’s it! No more!’ she yelled to the emptiness. Not another step will I take for Madcap Morton. I must have been crazy to let him talk me into it. She turned to leave the room, wiping her face with the front of her sweatshirt and stepped outside. But her feet met fresh air and she found herself skidding and sliding down to land a second later on solid rock.
‘What the hell?’
Gathering her wits she sat upright and looked back to where the toilet block stood, wedged at least fifty feet up in the side of a mountain of gravel. Looking around and below, she could see that she was perched on a narrow ledge and that somehow she’d left the park.
What? Where the hell am I? Looks like a... quarry? For that is what it did look like. I must be dreaming. I’ll wake up soon. Must stay calm, just go with it.
On shaky legs Maisey stood to take in her predicament. To her befuddled mind, it seemed she had only two choices, as there was no way to climb back up and no way was she going down. The ledge was only a foot wide and wound around the mountain in either direction.
Taking a few steps to her left, she heard a noise, a voice.
‘Over here.’ It said but no one was in sight. The hair on the back of her neck rose for a second before she decided that, like this whole scene, she’d imagined it. But no sooner did she make that observation than she heard it again, louder now.
‘Take my hand, here!’
Maisey let her eyes drift downward to the gravel wall beside her. A long wizened hand waved at her from out of the hillside. A scream tore from her throat and she turned and bolted in the opposite direction along the ledge. This way it is, she thought, and with terror mounting she ran over the downward twisting trail. A glance behind told her that the hand was not following so she slowed to catch her breath. A nervous giggle escaped her throat as she pondered just how a hand might chase its victim. Her laugh dwindled away as her throat cried out for a drink. Her skin felt filthy, sweat mixed with dirt encrusted her entire body.
Maisey felt like crying with panic as she rounded a bend in the hillside and the trail seemed to end. But as she drew near, she could hear voices and saw that there was an arch which led into the mountainside. She paused before its cold and uninviting entrance. She sighed. No choice, she thought as she entered.
The voices grew louder as she traversed the tunnel by the light of a dim glow ahead. A tight knot had formed in her stomach, a reminder of her now empty belly. She could smell smoke as she neared the entrance to a huge cavern. Now and then a voice would call out though the words were lost in a loud shuffling sound that grew even louder as she approached.
Huddled in the tunnel, Maisey gazed about with disbelieving eyes. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people were shuffling backwards and forwards aimlessly or so it seemed. As the girl watched, she saw that most were gathering wood from various piles to keep their fires burning. They were oblivious to her presence; their heads hanging despondently, their children huddled around the fires.
The huge expanse of the cavern looked like the inside of a beehive or what she imagined the interior of a beehive looked like. Tier upon tier of levels, spiralling from the top down to the bottom and on every level were small caves set at regular intervals with people living in them.
At that moment a woman looked to where the girl squatted and their eyes met. A wave of empathy flowed through Maisey; the woman’s hopelessness was like a cloak she wore. Maisey felt herself drowning in despair and wanted to run but just then the woman broke the spell by looking away and continuing with her endless tasks. Maisey looked now at her own clothes which were torn, tattered and grimy from her ordeal. They accept me, she thought. They think I’m one of them. She couldn’t blame them for she must have looked a fright.
The people on the upper levels were in a state similar to her own and the farther down the beehive she looked, the worse off the people appeared until at the bottom lay a bubbling, steaming and festering bile-like froth. Way down there, the people were barely distinguishable from wild animals; with long matted hair and wounds that wept.
A scuffling sound heralded the arrival of a thick-set man. In his hand he carried a stock whip and as he approached Maisey from a lower level, she ducked behind the rock’s entrance, uncertain if he had seen her. He sauntered past her then rested his back against the rock face. Maisey tried to still her beating heart for it seemed to thud and pound in her ears. Casually and with practiced hand, the man flicked the whip out and back toward himself, the cracking beat of his habit filling the cavern with an even greater noise.
‘Go to the top!’
The deep bellow came from behind her and Maisey screamed in fright and fell sideways at the sight of the bald, giant of a man that had come up on her from behind. The other guard turned and as if in slow motion she watched as they converged on her, their yelling drowning out the roar of terror in her own ears.
Her movements seemed laboriously slow as she tried to move away from their paths and with a speed that surprised even her, she lunged for the bald man’s leg and sinking her teeth in, bit down into the flesh. She fought the urge to pull back as her teeth seemed to sink into his putty-like flesh and only when his agonised scream tore through the cavern and he reeled away from her, did she release him and run flat out for the caves entrance.
‘I’ll bloody well make you pay for that don’t you worry!’
The bald man was literally hopping mad and the girl didn’t doubt that he would extract payment for his pain if he could.
Before the man could reach her, Maisey was back at the spot where she’d landed. Nervously, she leaned her back against the hillside and gasped for air, casting glances around her for any sign of pursuit and also in memory of the hand that had originally startled her. But all was quiet so she allowed herself the grace of not thinking about her predicament, while she caught her breath.
‘Over here.’
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