Remembering Darkness

The Tissue of Equador

Ica's POV

I kicked my bag across the floor to my desk and rummaged to The Drastically Dismal Depths of My Schoolbag. Triumphantly, I produced my History book.

Doing my homework straight after dinner is A New Ica Rosler Record. Usually, I don't bother with prep until it's late at night and I suddenly miraculously remember I've got a million and one essays due tomorrow.

So, why was I, the girl who got detention in the first week of term, DOING MY HOMEWORK WHEN I WAS ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO?!?!

Actually, it's kind of a long story.

When me and Melanie got home, the first thing I did was raid the biscuit tin while Melanie put some pasta in the microwave. Then she looked in my direction, I hastily began to pretend to be rifling through the cutlery drawer in preparation for laying the table. After dinner, Melanie departed to her room, and I decided to spend some quality time annoying her,

For the record, Melanie is like, the easiest person in the world to tick off. If you've had enough practice, (and trust me, I have) you can get her really, really annoyed with you in a matter of minutes. Her reactions are sooooooooooooooooooooooo funny.

Find all of this plus more in my handbook 'A Guide to Annoying Melanie Rosler'. Now available in all decent bookstores for £9.99.

Hah. Jokes. I have written a book about annoying my sister, but it hasn't been published. It exists only in the notebook on my desk.

I tiptoed across the landing to Melanie's door and knocked thrice. Without waiting for a response, I strode in and asked, "Are you aware of the mysterious location of the Tissue of Equador, formerly belonging to King Bob XXIII himself?"

Melanie growled. "Go away Ica."

I walked outside, and waited by her bedroom door. I counted thirty seconds on my watch, before striding in again and repeating my question. "Are you aware of the mysterious location of the Tissue of Equador, formerly belonging to King Bob XXIII himself?"

"Ica," Melanie warned. "Leave. Me. Alone."

Walk out. Wait thirty seconds. Come back in.

"Are you aware of the mysterious location of the Tissue of Equador, formerly belonging to King Bob XXIII himself?"

"Argh! Shut up!"

Walk out. Wait thirty seconds. Come back in.

"Are you aware of the mysterious location of the Tissue of Equador, formerly belonging to King Bob XXIII himself?"

"I-ca. What is it with you?"

Thirty seconds later...

"Are you aware of the mysterious location of the Tiss-

"I'm trying to do my history prep! BUG OFF!"

"Ooh, touchy today, aren't we?" I remarked and scampered off.

See? Genius, aren't I? That is one very, very, very irritated fourteen-year-old-girl.

As I ran to the safety of my bedroom, I remembered that actually, I had History prep too, and it might actually be a good idea to get on with it.

So, yeah. That was why I was doing my homework.

I extracted the crumpled-up task sheet form the back of my book.

Year Eight History Homework Due Friday

Research one of the following Celtic figures .

Oh. How helpful. The first name on the list read:

Boudicca

Boring. Done a project on her already.

Most of the other names I vaguely recognised. All tribe leaders who had fought the Romans etc etc etc.

The last name on the list caught my attention.

Niamh

Ooh. She was new.

I picked up my iPad and googled her.

Ah. Good old Wikipedia.

Niamh was a Celtic girl from a tribe in Ireland. She was named after a goddess associated with light, fire and radiant beauty.

How lovely.

She and her sister Ciardha claimed they were blessed by the gods. Niamh thought she could control light, Ciardha thought she could control darkness. No-one beleived them and accused them of blasphemy. The local druid sacrificed them to the gods and threw their corpses into a river.

We know about Ciardha and Niamha because a carving was made of their deaths.

See also: Ciardha.

Oh. That was it? Hoping for a bit more information, I tapped on the link to Ciardha's page.

Ciardha was a Celtic girl from a tribe in Ireland. Her parents were desperate for a son, so when they had a daughter, they assumed she was male and gave her a boy's name. Even after it was made clear that Ciardha was female, the druid had performed the naming ceremony and could not renmae her for fear of angering the gods.

The rest of the page was the same as that on Niamh's. It finished with:

See also: Niamh.

What had my History teacher been thinking? I wished I had chosen Boudicca now. Hmm. Maybe I could print out a very large image to cover about half the page. I flicked back to Niamh's page, and prepared to tap on it on hit 'print'.

Then I stopped. No way. No way was that possible.

The image of Niamh was a photo of the girl labelled as her on the carving.

She had the same length hair, same cheekbones, same ears that were embarrassingly pointed at the tip like a pixie's, same nose which was a millimetre to far to the right.

O

M

G.

The girl was me. Niamh looked exactly like me. I was staring at a photo of myself.

I opened my mouth to scream, but a voice outside my window stopped me.

"Oh, honestly. Don't be too surprised. I would have figured it out weeks ago if I were you."

OMG OMG OMG. The voice was coming from a brown owl. Right outside my bedroom window.

Seeing an owl perched on your window ledge is one thing. Seeing it talk is quite another.

This time I let out a blood-curdling scream freely.