Arthur McGregor

Church Bells

Ding...

Ding...

Ding...

The old church bells cry through the oppressively silent graveyard. The church bells that before rang tall and proud at weddings and Sunday services now toll and knell with grief and misery. The church bells I used to love the sound of as a little girl, now intimidate me, flinching as every thundering ring fills the grey air as familiar faces toss white flowers down onto the casket and silently say their final farewell. Everyone stepping back to watch as the cold, dead earth pile up over the coffin where it will stay, rotting, until it is long forgotten. I look around, some have tears streaming down their face, staining their dark clothes, while others stand still, a look of sadness in their eye as they try to process what has happened over the last week. Standing across from me, a little girl no older than five is burying her face into her Mother's hair. Not wanting to watch her brothers casket slowly being veiled by the dirt from the sky, air, trees. From the living world.

After the seventh toll, the bells came to a halt reminding everyone of the age, the very young age of Arthur McGregor.

As I get in my orange 1998 Ford Sedan, I can still hear the hushed whispers that enclosed the reception.

"He went too young."

"What a hard time for the family."

"Poor wee thing."

The voices spin inside my head, slowly developing into an intense ringing as I collapse into the worn driver seat. I rest my freckled forehead onto the cold steering wheel trying to numb the throbbing pain that had occurred throughout the day. My ash brown hair falls lightly- framing my face as I stare down at my legs, white and pale, contrasting against my black dress. I close my eyes, as I fade away to the gentle rustle of swaying trees.

+=+=+

I walk closely behind a nurse dressed in a matching white pant and top set with a clipboard clung close to her chest, her hair in a tight low bun with no strays, unlike my messy ponytail, she looks like she just came out of a movie. It feels like we have been walking down this hallway forever until we stop. I almost crash into her just outside of a door, painted with small brightly coloured hand-prints, trees, flowers and what looks like to be a camel, which tells me that we have made it to the children's ward. The nurse whose name tag tells me that her name is Genevieve turns around to say, "Don't be nervous." I was about to reply when she opened the door, cutting off my thoughts. Inside was a brightly coloured room with five children inside, playing with toys and reading books with the other volunteers helping out with the programme. The Nurse walks in, and a little boy no older than five runs up and clings onto her leg. The Nurse with her gentle, soothing voice says "Arthur, say hello to Cascade, the new children's centre volunteer."

+=+=+

"Cascade!" tap tap tap "Cascade!" tap tap tap. I jump up, startled, a wave of dizziness passes over me from sitting up quickly. I look around confused, Mrs Kingsway who lives across the street is looking down on me through the car window with a "concerned look on her face.

"Oh dear, thank goodness you are all right!"

"Uh yeah I'm fine, I must have fallen asleep. Thanks though Mrs Kingsway."

"Okay Dear, as long as you are all right. You have a good night now."

Night? Is it night already? How long was I asleep for? I watch as Mrs Kingsway rushes into the corner store before it closes.

I reach over to the passenger seat where my old backpack lies and pull out my phone, the bright screen lights up the dark car;

9:43 pm

8 missed calls from Mum

Sighing I put my phone back in the bag and started the car.