Janet Fitch, White Oleander
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@marly-mc-k
Janet Fitch, White Oleander
Submitted by einsamkeiten.
Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making
If I get one more owl
But how to explain to the neighbors all the owls lining the edge of your lawn, staring…. and holding parchment…making noise?
...I forget that it's not normal for them to do that.
...
You’ll get nothing done if you stay in bed all day. Come have a cup of tea with me and you’ll be good to go.
Ugh, but there's nothing to get done...wait. Did you say "tea"? Fine, fine. I'm up.
...
I s-say no. S-Stay in as long as you w-want.
Now there's an answer I like.
— Dr. Seuss
...
Do I really have to get up? Because staying here seems so much better.
Karen Thompson Walker, The Age of Miracles
She dreamed of Paradise
most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs {{Self}}
Marlene woke to a room devoid of air, the sheets wrapped about her like a winding cloth.
Her dreams had been nothing but memories, blinding green light and responding red. Screams and tortured gurgling and the smell of burnt flesh.
Breathe, Marly. Breathe.
She could never escape the battle, her murmured "I'll fight" chasing her down through days and weeks, worming its way through the keyhole and finding her, without fail. It was the one thing that saved her, in a bizarre turn of events, the one thing that made living with herself in the aftermath bearable. And still, the pain of it always stole her breath.
Watching people fall. The spurt of blood. Hair and faces torn, bloody, dirty, all in shades of grey and red and green.
And she remembered falling herself, feeling every muscle scream, every bone longing to break if it would release this awful pressure, remembers the way it curled through her like poison until every nerve was screaming, remembers hearing herself scream like someone far away. And she remembers it stopping as suddenly as it had started, a friendly spell breaking the curse's hold.
She had escaped alive, oh yes, by some miracle. But no one had escaped unscathed, and Marlene was no exception.
The bruises faded with time, but the scars remained, and the nightmares dogged her no matter what she did.
The nightmares of pale hands reaching for her, dragging her down beneath a pulsing sea of dead bodies, the nightmare of faceless men chasing her through the streets of London while faceless people watched, the nightmares of seeing Lily, Sirius, Dorcas, lying lifeless in unforgiving piles as Death Eaters laughed...
Most nights, her screams never made it to daylight, never rang through the flat. But there were always tears that stained her lips with salt, the racing pulse and breathlessness.
It was always the same.
There was something inside of her that was still screaming.
When the world had regained some small degree of oxygen, when she could close her eyes without seeing bursts of spell-light on the black, Marlene unraveled herself from the sheets and the last bits of nightmare and tip-toed through the flat, her bare feet cold on the floor. The window, too, was cold to the touch, and she pressed her forehead flat against it, grateful for its unforgiving chill.
She didn't deserve forgiveness, after all. How many times had she curled beneath this window, sitting on the floor with her hands in her hair, wondering if she had just said goodbye to her friends for the last time, if she had just made her last words to them nothing but another excuse. How many times had she feigned ill, lost herself in small tasks, made herself scarce, when the time came for action? She was surprised they could look at her at all anymore, her brave friends with their war stories and battle scars and haunted eyes.
And she caused it.
There was no one to blame for her anger, her guilt, her shame, the haunting memories of never having done enough, and the guilt-ridden wish to turn back time, to allow herself a second chance.
She dug her fingernails into her palms until the pain turned into blood.
Headcanon 02: A Cat Named Spinach
Marlene's always had a soft spot for strays. She can't much help it. She used to show up in her mother's parlor with a Kniffler or an owl with a broken wing, a Kneazle kitten with no mother. The Kneazle she was allowed to keep. It lived for a good, long time, but became more attached to Mrs. McKinnon than to Marlene. And Marlene was of the mind that an owl would be a more fitting Hogwarts pet, anyway. So her parents bought her a beautiful barn owl she named Hugo, and that was that.
During the war, Marlene wasn't one to open doors to strange noises. They could never mean anything good. But this was different. It was too small a noise to be anything dangerous. And was that a meow? Marlene opened the door with her wand at the ready, only to find the smallest calico kitten she'd ever seen sniffing along the floor. She took him in and fed him, and the next day found him happily munching on a leafy green. The name Spinach just stuck - it matched his big green eyes, anyway. Despite her friend's comments that he was about the ugliest cat they'd ever seen (and, as a kitten, he had been) Spinach grew into a perfectly acceptable, if rather bumbling and awkward, feline. His ears never seem to point the right direction, and he's known to fall over his own four paws.
But he was the only comfort Marlene could sometimes find, when she begged off another Order meeting and sat curled in the flat, wondering what dangers she was resigning her friends too because she was just too damned scared. Spinach was always there with his tumbling act and the loudest purr Marlene could imagine, butting his head against her chin and distracting her, if only for a moment, from the overwhelming thoughts.
I haven't been out in public for a while -
That is a relief. I was never one for the spotlight.
Thank you. But I’m sure Skeeter could twist even Albus into something from the deep; she’s quite a talent, there is no denying. If she approached me on information I daresay I might not be entirely pleasant. This event is making me skin crawl as it is.
You’ve put it better than I could have. I - I suppose we all have coping mechanisms. Sweeping things under the rug might be the best for everyone else. But for us… Well, we must soldier on.
Or for newsprint, it seems. Neither am I. Luckily....I don't have much to worry about.
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What her motives are. Maybe it's just fame and money, but it seems like a long way to go, for that. Then again, stranger things have happened. Mine, too. It's like standing in the eye of a storm. I don't much like it.
I couldn't've put it better, myself. You can't really blame the rest of the world for just wanting to move on. Merlin, I want to move on. But you're right. Our fate is different than theirs now, in some way.
A fact which grieves me greatly. I remember as a girl how guilty I felt not telling Mum I took an extra biscuit before dinner. Now, well a stolen biscuit is nothing but a childhood memory.
A decision is better than none. We can only hope in time that other decisions will be made and this can finally be over, truly.
I cannot stand feeling like this, perhaps you could tell me something that has been good to you lately?
It's too bad Time Turners can only do so much. I'd give just about anything to go back to those problems.
My life isn't much too exciting, really. Work and then home again, usually. But one of the owls got sick, and he's doing better already. That has to count for something.
Still dunno about that. Creature. Monster. Bastard. I could go on.
Can’t have you caged up like a bird, Marls. You gotta take some risks, get back out there. Hell, start dating. Do. Alright? Lemme know if anything - yeah. Just lemme know.
Don't get me wrong, he's awful. He deserves every moment in hell he's earned himself.
I am trying, you know. It's just...wait, what? Dating? Right. That would end well. You know I will. Same goes for you, you know. Anything you need, say the word, okay? Even if it's just a cup of tea.
Hold my hand Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down to the bottom of the river Hold my hand, Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down, a long way down