A Twisted Tale

Abigail knew she was lucky that she had lived on Bramble Farm for the entirety of her short life. She was grateful for the guttural cry from the cockerel that opened her eyes each morning. She was grateful for the animals that kept her company; sheep scattered along the horizon like fallen clouds. She was grateful, for she was always told to be so by her late mother, as she, unlike others, inhaled fresh air each day 

whilst others were shrouded by smoke in cramped confined communities.

Despite her gratitude, she still wished for things beyond the confines of the farm: a love that knew no bounds, a companion quieter than a crow, and sharper than a sheep. She desperately longed for a confidante with whom she could care, and she knew that if she spread her wings past the barbed, bramble fence she might just find one. 

Like most mothers, Abigail’s had set the standard for her beloved daughter, and therefore her destiny had been etched upon the thatched cottage in which she was born. Her mother had told her tales of the other young boys and girls, The Unlucky Ones, who lived beyond her sheltered existence. The Unlucky Ones were hopeless, exploited and abandoned to whatever cruel fate the world would decide to place upon them. Abigail had always been a dutiful yet inquisitive young girl, her darting eyes watching the words alight from her mother’s doting tongue. However, Abigail delighted in this prospect, she would trade the certainty of a tractor plucking untimely blades each dawn for the exciting world of endless possibilities in a heartbeat. The path that Abigail’s dear mother had created was one she disdained. 

You will have lots of babies with a match from The Farm, until no more babies are to be had.

These words, though wise, were wingless and lay stagnant in the stable from which they were spoken. 

—

William was tired of his brief yet relentless life already. His childhood has been smattered with uncertainty, a life of dark, smoky houses and deprivation. He had never met his mother, and his father he could only remember from the grave and gormless expressions that he recognised in his brothers and sisters. William and his siblings were neither close nor affectionate, as they had learnt far too young that 

the more you have, the more you have to lose.

Therefore, William’s head was forced down, acquiescent in his solitary struggle. Being the runt of his family, he suffered from frequent bullying and his small bones remained feeble as he scrambled for the scraps that were left behind. This shortcoming shaped him, as he would squeeze his small torso through the hole in the wall and run to the nearby lodgings. Next door to the others was a room whereby an ever-replenishing pile of rubbish existed. Within this rubbish, William would often find magazines and books which he read and read and read until it was time to go back, before someone would realise that he was missing. William learnt of places so spacious, skies so blue and skin so radiant that the reality of his existence crushed him like road kill beneath a tire. Hoping was futile, he would enjoy the boundaries of his mind, for they would be the only company that he would ever have or so he thought. 

—

It was a beautiful autumnal day when Abigail decided to escape Bramble Farm. Her provisions and planning in place, all she had to do was file in line with the others who were not so lucky and jump aboard the large white truck that arrived at the beginning of each season. Her mother had always reminded her that the unfortunate ones leave, and the lucky ones stay without ever explaining the rhyme or reason. So, there she was, waiting at the Farm’s boundaries which she had never crossed, bursting with anticipation and excitement. Like clockwork, the truck pulled to a stop, reversed slowly and eventually halted right in front of the large wooden gate. The engine sighed as a port, jovial man stepped out of the van and lit something between his teeth. Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm sounded in her ears just as it had countless times before, but this time was different. This siren sunk through her veins, alerting her to the small margin she had to seize her freedom. Beep. Beep. Beep. Abigail darted from the bush in which she was hiding and followed behind the other boys and girls as they scrambled into the van. Beep. Beep Beep. The big metal bridge between the farm and her future shook shut and they were left in total darkness. Abigail’s eyes were firmly closed, her nose was filled with the smell of sweaty, bustling bodies of the others, yet a big, toothy grin spread upon her face and her heart hummed along to the sound of the engine. 

—

Beep. Beep. Beep. Due to the discarded calendar he had found in the room next door, William knew that today was Leaving Day. A day that William neither looked forward to or dreaded due to his great apathy for existence. Surrounded by his siblings, he waited expectantly for the moment to come. Beep. Beep. Beep. He looked around at their faces, sunken and scared and suddenly said to himself it is not my time yet. As the door was flung open, daylight stinging his sallow eyes, he ran past his brothers and sisters in a desperate bid to escape. Around him, they ran forward toward the apparent exit, as he ducked and dived beneath them. His short legs became quicker upon the dirty floor as he could see the that small crevice that led to his library was not far before him. But it was too late, before he knew it, he was being carried off by the sea of bodies and his tiny feet were dragged into the air. The harsh light invaded his vision as he was shoved upon the large vehicle. Beep Beep Beep. The door had closed, and he scampered into a corner for comfort. His eyes, accustomed to such darkness, peered around the room. Everyone looked dirty and dismayed - all except one girl. Her skin was as glossy as the magazines that he had devoured, and her lips were stretched across her face, exposing her gleaming teeth beneath. She had an air of contentment which triggered a strong annoyance within him. Equipped with a deep frown upon his brow, William edged closer to the stranger. 

—-

Abigail heard his shaky voice before she opened her eyes. She fluttered her long lashes open but still, she could only see blackness before her.

“Did someone say something?” she said sweetly, but only heard the rattling of the van on the road as the reply so she shut her eyes and continued to dream of elsewhere. 

“Hello,” the voice spoke again. “I-I said: Why are you so happy?”

Abigail looked around in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I be? Is happiness not allowed?” she spoke with sarcasm.

“Well-” William stopped, thought. He realised that he had never thought to ask that question before, he had never imagined why ‘happiness’ should exist within the context of his life and had assumed it never would be.

“Where are you from?” he finally replied. 

“Bramble Farm,” she answered vaguely, “But now I am going wherever the wind takes me.” Her large toothy grin stuck upon her face like a shiny sticker. 

Not uncruelly, William laughed, incredulous as he was at her naivety. Abigail’s cheeks blushed and her neck snapped around to face the rude boy. 

“Why are you laughing?” She shouted, “I decided to leave, I am brave and am taking control of my own future! I’d rather die than spend another day on that boring farm and rot!”

Pitiful, William shook his head and slowly sat down next to her. She smelt like fresh air and foliage; a scent William had never smelt but had only read about. He edged closer and softened his croaky voice. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be mean, my name’s William.” Sensing his subduement, Abigail moved closer towards William until their legs were touching. 

“Abigail.” she replied, and her name rang out like birdsong in his ear. 

—

Unlike the others on the truck, unpleasantly jammed together, eyes shut and car-sick, William and Abigail spent the entirety of the journey listening to each other intently, heads together, their hearts floating in the clouds above them. William was fascinated by the day-to-day humdrum of Bramble Farm, so distant and isolated it was from the stale and systematic childhood he has experienced. Abigail, still semi-blind to the darkness, listened to William re-tell the countless tales and adventures that he had read in books, and begged him to keep talking. Friendless William obliged, and his heart grew lighter and lighter until the van stopped, and his heart shattered onto the cold pavement beneath them. 

“We are here!” Abigail squealed. 

He put his lip to her ear and said firmly, “As soon as the door opens, we need to run to the left. Not towards the people on the outside, do you understand me?”

Abigail looked scared, “Why? What’s wrong? We’re getting out!”

“That’s the point. Listen to me, we don’t have much time. Just follow me or we will die.” William said, becoming sterner, he was not ready to give up now. To lose the only person he had ever connected to in his life. 

“DIE?” Abigail screamed, sending a ripple of panic through the rest of the truck, as reality dawned upon her. 

The Unlucky Ones, the voice of her mother said in her head as she and began to whimper in terror. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. The light trickled slowly through the truck, illuminating the unsettling figures in front of her. She turned to William, whom she saw for the first time. He had a small, kind face which made his eyes look big like fresh pools of water. For a moment she forgot the truck, and her impending doom and her heart swelled with happiness.

“Promise you won’t leave me behind,” she cried. 

“I promise!" he managed to say before they were both being thrust off the only place in which they had both felt truly happy and into the unknown. 

Despite their best efforts, the pair were being herded through a narrow tunnel faster than the truck that led them to this sorry place. Around them, terrified cries and screams echoed through the chamber, which opened up to two extremely large blades which slashed and crushed the skin of its victims. Eyes wild, Abigail frantically searched for William in the chaos. 

“William!” she shrieked as loud as her rasping throat would allow her. Being so small, William’s vision was enveloped by flesh and blood, his snout pressed upon the body in front of him. With all his strength, he clambered beneath the swelling figures, some stagnant and others struggling, all edging closer to the jaws of death. After what felt like an eternity he had almost reached Abigail and could smell the fresh mud upon her trotters, see the tight curl of her pink tail. But once again, it was too late. The sheath sliced through her young plump body, and it that was the last thing William saw before his short life was claimed by The Slaughterhouse too.