Dawn Chorus

Kim landed in the room looking tired, pale-faced in the grey light of the early morning, flanked by accusatory birdsong – the gurgling blackbird, the shrill peewit, the crooning woodpigeon, the wailing gull, the ever-present low roar of traffic merged into a symphony of change and chill at her back.

“Have you seen my dental floss?” Jenny asked, turning slightly. “I can’t find it.” She was stood by the door, holding a coat.

“No,” said Kim. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” said Jenny, simple and sullen as a marble statue.

Kim sank into a chair and yawned.

“Okay,” she said, though it was the least of the things she wanted to say. “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” said Jenny, and that was that.

Kim walked over to the kitchen and the kettle, Jenny pulled her green puffy coat on and walked out the door past the sad-looked potted geraniums that sat by the doormat outside the little flat that Kim and Jenny shared. As soon as she was out, she began to run. She ran and ran and ran, pell-mell, helter-skelter along the corridor, down flight after flight of stairs like a hurricane or a terrible gale, and nothing showed on her face as she crashed down through the battered concrete-and-red-brick stairwell like a wave of water. Out of the swinging door at the bottom of the building she crashed, onto the pavement where she was assaulted by the continued dawn chorus and the deep grey pre-morning light. She leant against the building, caught her breath, and, at last, grinned. It was a cold morning, startlingly cold, but she was very hot after running so much, so she tore off her coat and breathed through the sticky mucus gathering in her throat. Tying her coat around her waist and folding her arms like a maiden aunt to keep her fingers from the chill, she sauntered briskly up the lane, excited by the feeling of solitude so that she could barely see the road. Tiredness caught in the corners of her eyes, but the chill of the morning whipped it out of them, so that she was alive in the great grey light of early morning.

There were some clouds overhead, large and wild, but they didn’t seem as though they were about to rain, and they gave way on the horizon to a vast expanse of yellow and orange, a field of marigold over the grey earth of the sea. Snip, snap, went the wind, ruffling her hair so that she laughed. She nearly cried at her laughing, because it felt so strange in her throat, but she felt the feeling of her hair being blown by the wind, all the strands falling one way and another in a ticklish, but not irritating, fashion, and she smiled an awful smile that was at one with the aching in her chest that had been set off by the sky. She was alone in the great grey-and-orange world as she walked up the winding grey road to the top of the hill, where you could lean on the wall which was the end of somebody’s back garden and look over the sea to the sunrise.

The birds seemed quieter now and the traffic louder. Everything smelt fresher and cleaner than it had ever smelt in the daytime, as the coldness tingled in her nostrils and trickled up her nose. Gently, softly, so that you almost didn’t notice it at first, the sun pushed its way above the sea, a giant orange globe like oil paints, and it rose and it rose and covered the world in the softest yellow light so that everything facing the sun seemed to be tinged with gentle dark orange and shadows became immediately apparent.

The sun rose, and Jenny smiled.

Just a short little thing this week. Hope you enjoyed!

The character of Kim was created by Scott Sanford and is available for use by anyone, so long as they don’t muck up her original continuity. .

The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition: This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, that others might use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.