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A löngu síðan á Íslandi ..... [10]

 
Silja Henningsdottir's picture
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Silja Henningsdottir pulled the thin blankets over her head and cuddled tightly into Teddy. She felt the cold. She thought about that night a year ago when the thick drizzle swept in from the North Atlantic. Her bed then was soft and comfy; she had a mound of quilted blankets.  But her mind dwelled on the fight Momma and Poppa had, remembered how Poppa had slammed the door behind him as he left. Silja sniffed. If Poppa had not left them, they would still be at the farm, not here is this cold, damp dorm block.

She looked across from her bed to her Momma’s bed. Momma was sick, very sick. She listened to the weak wheezing sound as her Momma breathed. The room was dark, the rain drummed on the tin roof of the dormitory block.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow the Skeinir would not intercept her and “confiscate” the extra rations which she had traded so hard for. But now the Skeinir were wise to the little blonde girl and her scavenging skills. Momma needed the extra rations, but those cruel Skeinir took her hard won “extras” for their own. But Silja would try again tomorrow; maybe she could sneak into the dorm block another way....

“Yes I’ll do that” she murmured to Teddy quietly so as Momma would not be woken, Momma needed all the rest she could get.

Before Silja opened her eyes the next morning, she listened. The wind buffeted the wooden walls of the dormitory. From other rooms came the sound of people rising to their sparse existence in the Life-Net “refugee facility” But one sound was absent, Silja could not think what it was. Silja opened her eyes to the rancid grey November light. She looked over at her Momma.

Wrapping the blankets close to her scrawny frame, around her head and shoulders, Silja slid off her bed and crossed to Momma.

“Momma.....?” Silja squeaked as she looked at her Momma.

Momma lay on her back, her eyes were open, as was her mouth. Dried spittle drew a line from the corner of her mouth down her left cheek. Björk Mortensson lay quite quite still.

Silja blinked twice, her bottom lip quivered. Huge drops of tears ran down her face as she blinked a third time. She slid onto the bed beside her Momma’s lifeless body and snuggled next to it.

“ I am sorry Momma, I tried so hard, but the Skeinir..... They con-fist-ercated our food.” Silja whispered into her mother’s hair from a rapidly closing throat. She hugged tightly, wept silently, apologising over and over again about the food.

This was the scene Engifer Johannsson discovered maybe two hours later. Silja had not appeared at the rear door of the kitchen as usual. It was then he realised that he had seen neither Silja nor her mother at breakfast. He had guessed correctly what must have happened.

Gently he lifted Silja a sleeping out of the embrace and wrapped the blankets around her, Silja woke to a drowse. She did not look at him directly, she just told him how much she had tried to get Momma the extra food.

“I know, Sil.   I know.“ Engi’s voice cracked as he tried to console Silja

It was then that a few, then many other inmates gathered. Engifer Johansson took Silja Henningsdottir  in his arms and bore her away to his room by the Kitchen Block. The others gathered and attended to the mortal remains of Frú Björk Mortensson. There was silence all around.

Engi Johansson’s six foot four inch frame marched straight and strong as he carried the blanket-wrapped little blonde girl across the compound to the Kitchen Block. It would have been a foolish or unwise Skeinir  who would have approached him to enquire. Each one he passed he looked at squarely, accusingly. His black stare cut into their consciences like a laser. Each Skeinir who caught the stare gazed immediately at his feet or any elsewhere.

 

 They knew. Oh yes the bastards knew alright..

((  Probably one of the hardest things I have had to write  so far on FERP ))

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((*sniffs* It wasn't very easy to read either hun. But well done.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Silja Henningsdottir's picture

(( its all building up to the climax.....  and I am in trepidation to write it...   one, maybe two more episodes left  *shakey hands on keys just thinking it*

Iss eggsackertly wot I said .....    Idd-eee- oot !



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