Writer's Games: Carnival

Semi Finals: Viola Fern Rigby

Everything was dark where Viola was, a patchwork of silence and old friends. She was tucked away into the corner of what had once been her mind, every day a battle to hold on. Sometimes something else drifted past, a memory of days gone by. Viola recognised each and every one; a birthday long ago, the cinema with her family, her sister’s concert from last year. Stuff Viola wouldn’t have parted with if her life depended on it. Things Vi couldn’t care less about.

This was the rubbish heap of Viola’s mind, and it was her new home.

At least she no longer had Vi’s voice to deal with; no more yelling, no more fighting to keep down the monster. It had been like an anvil, constantly pushing down on the back of her head, continuously wearing down her resolve until there was nothing left for it to fight and it had been able to just take over. In the end it had been all too easy for Vi to colonise her former master’s mind; just a bit of fear and then it was done. Viola had failed. She’d lost the fight and that was all to it. No going back now.

Another snippet of memory drifted by, a silvery cloud punctuated by flashes of light and golden laughter. Against all probability a tide of warmth bubbled up inside what would have been Viola’s stomach, if she’d had one. She didn’t, but that was beside the point. She felt her consciousness stretch into a smile. One memory couldn’t hurt. Viola reached out one barely existent finger and brushed the silver object in front of her. Almost immediately she was thrown backwards in an explosion of brightly-lit sparks, through time and back to the morning of her tenth birthday.

Their parents’ bedroom was warm and bright. On the big bed, half-hidden by a pile of duvets and pillows, was a young Viola, all of ten years old and practically an adult in her own right. She squealed with delight as her father threw a prettily-wrapped present at her. It flew past her outstretched fingertips and onto the mattress beside her, prompting a fresh gale of laughter. Finally getting control of the gift, young Viola unwrapped it, her little face falling open in shock when she saw the gift.

Nestled on cream cushions and protected by forts of blue tissue paper was a cat, made entirely of some silver material but for the eyes. Green semi-precious jewels blinked up at the young girl, flashing in the light. It was like there was a light behind the eyes, pools the colour of fresh grass mirroring Viola’s own. Threaded around it was a silver chain, so fine it was like it wasn’t there.

Viola felt a lump in her throat as she watched her mother smile and fasten the clasp around her younger self’s neck. Young Viola’s were shining as she hugged her parents. Old Viola would probably never see them again. That kind of pessimistic thinking was detrimental to any sort of chance she may have had of regaining control of herself, but it was true; despite her insistence to the contrary whenever Vi was listening, Viola had no idea how to repeat Vi’s impressive performance.

She looked back at the memory, young Viola smiling with all the hope and opportunities that the world was offering her, and none of the despair her future self was feeling. Green eyes, so like the cat’s, were shining with a light neither of her parent’s would have seen before; the determination of a girl who knew exactly what she wanted to be and had the hope and self-belief that would allow her to get there. It was the exact moment that had cemented all of Viola’s dreams for the future, dreams that hadn’t changed even now.

All it had taken was a silver cat and a pair of green, jewelled eyes.

The memory trundled onwards, and Viola found herself once again plunged right into the stifling closeness of recollection. Her younger self was in class, sitting shyly on one of the seats as she was invited by the teacher to tell the class what she wanted to be when she was older. For the first time in her life, young Viola felt the courage to stand up in front of her peers and speak her mind. It would be the only time.

She brought out the cat, explaining which career path she was hoping to follow, and where the reasoning had come from. To Viola, watching her memories in third person, it made perfect sense. To the class it was a load of nonsense from a weirdo who could only speak when she was talking about herself and her stupid cat. Whispering broke out among the ranks, and gradually swelled to chatter, the teacher’s warnings to stop talking and listen to what Viola had to say ignored. And what kind of a name was Viola anyway?

The light that had been steadily shining in young Viola’s eyes ever since the morning was dimming. Viola, trapped in her nightmare of darkness and echoes, wanted to scream. She wanted to march out there and grab young Viola by the shoulders and tell her no, keep the light, don’t let them take it. She had lost the fight but her younger self didn’t need to. Young Viola had her whole life ahead of her. There was still brightness left in the bulb. She should never let them take the light behind her eyes.

But she did.

They took the light, took all of the hope and the tentative joy that had been brimming over the top of young Viola’s inhibitions and threw it away. Not maliciously, not with any intent to cause harm, just with the innocent cruelty of children when they are forced to listen to something they don’t want to listen to.

Young Viola slunk back to her seat, leaving her ambitions floating up there in front of her classmates. Over the years they slowly dispersed, gradually leaving until Viola was left with the harsh realisation that they were stupid anyway, and would never have worked. They’d never have actually happened. It was all stupid, just the dreams of a little girl and a cat with green eyes.

She’d still worn the cat, almost religiously. First it had been a symbol of rebellion, telling whoever saw it that she would achieve her goals, she would do whatever she wanted to do. Then, when that died along with the light, it had become a comforter, something familiar that stayed constant in this world of ever-changing dreams. Finally, it was a memento, nothing more, nothing less. A trinket, a bauble to hang on a childhood fancy. It wasn’t important anymore. Birthdays came and birthdays went, necklaces shined and necklaces dimmed, and the meaning of the cat was gradually lost in a whirlwind of Other Things to Play With.

The memory drew to a close, the silver screen dimming like a television programme coming to an end. In her mental prison Viola sat back. She had almost forgotten about what had happened after the cat; it wasn’t the sort of thing one tended to want to remember. She could feel herself shivering, despite the lack of physical form to shiver with. There was something else there, though, a different sensation.

It hadn’t been that long since she had felt it at all, but it felt like forever. With it, though...with it Viola could almost think of a way that she could take over again. She felt light, almost weightless. As it spread, she recognised what it was. It was a silver cat, green eyes glittering in the glare from a bedside lamp. It was a young girl’s dreams, all her ambitions for the future. It was the light behind the girl’s eyes, shining like a fire.

It felt almost like hope.