Nescio (15)

NESCIO (15)

The priestess was feeling less than nibble as she traipsed the streets looking for symbols (convinced that only the material world could offer up the truth.)

No truck with woolly notions of mindfullness and meditation. (And, for the record, she was done with CBT and dynamic psycho-therapy too.)

What mattered, muttered the priestess to herself, was empirical proof.

Nescio (14)

NESCIO (14)

The priestess cracked open some more duty-free.

She washed it down with a super-sized tea: of penne and goats' cheese, some mushrooms and peas. (It has to be said the priestess was pleased with the combination of flavours and tastes. The woman hated good food to go to waste. It was pure serendipity that the ingredients necessary for the feast on her plate were still in the fridge after she returned home quite late.)

The priestess turned her attention to the mother. Things hadn't worked after she'd taken a lover. The man was a psychopath, an idiot brute. (They all gave a cheer when she gave him the boot.)

But, the mother was left feeling lonely and scared. She returned her affections to those for whom she cared most: the sister and brother (once so close to each other).

It broke her heart to see them so sad. (Indeed, it ultimately drove her mad.) And, though the mother was exemplary in terms of love and generosity, she was quite incapable - currently - of providing what was needed when her children learned that their father was dead.

Nescio (13)

NESCIO (13)

But, the priestess had not been idle while drinking good coffee. She'd spent time swotting up on Greek mythology. Trying to discern what underpinned those heroes' trajedy; avarice lust vengence and malady (at least, as far as she could see).

As she stuffed her face she considered her theory: the Greek gods oscillated, constantly contrarily. Incapable of adult emotion they were prone only to tease or appease, and with grotesque hilarity.

If she were to combat all that she would have to counter most of it with love loyalty and generosity.

It was a tough task - a lot to ask - but if she were to save the brother and sister (once so close to each other) she would have to act fast.

The brother still felt he was misunderstood. As a consequence, he scarce said a word. This sister felt depressed and dejected, so utterly sick of being rejected.

The death of the father would affect them both. A stab in the heart, even though they weren't close. (It would separate the sister and brother much further.)

The priestess muttered 'oh bugger' as she reached for another bottle of duty-free wine.

Nescio (12)

NESCIO (12)

The priestess was late back.

She parked her case in the porch and took out her head torch. She fumbled for the door-key: a hint of melancholy in her expression.

The priestess had travelled to Switzerland. (There was much of the UK she could no longer stand. The people - the crowds - so silly and risible: hideous miserable. She was certain it contributed to her latent depression.)

She had spent a week in Basel, best described as 'just wonderful'.

She had wandered through forests of wild flowers and firs, supped good coffee on terraces: sunny verandahs.

She'd eaten German noodles and wurst and a cheesecake with rhubarb (the latter bought fresh one morning from a market in Freiburg).

She'd procured her winter wardrobe at sale price; clothes that were (now) cheap, well made and (extremely) nice.

She'd spent time with a man she knew intimately. (She thrived on his wit, his intelligence, his rude informality.)

Actually, now she was home, she was feeling pissed off and alone.

Nescio (11)

NESCIO (11)

The priestess woke up.
Her sight was still blurred.
Her kidneys were aching.
Her tongue yellow-furred.

She stared at the ceiling, all ridden with worm. She wondered, 'oh, my - what have I become?'

She crawled into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. Though partially-sighted, she stepped back in horror when she saw her reflection.

On closer inspection, she changed her mind (notwithstanding the fact she was partially blind).

On closer inspection she changed her mind:

'If I nurture myself, if I learn to be nice, if I practise compassion and take some advice; if I colour my hair and start to dress smart (dress classy, that is, and not like a tart). If I apply a foundation and then lose some weight, perhaps, my self-loathing will start to abate?

'Perhaps, after all, it's not all too late?'

The priestess decides to take some time out; time to be quiet, time to hang out. Quality 'me-time', to use the vernacular: nothing extravagant, nothing spectacular.

Just a couple of weeks without any contact.

Nescio (10)

NESCIO (10)

The daughter - all drama - was quick to dismiss.

It was his son, her brother, the father really missed.

In a far-away kingdom, increasingly bleak, he searched for the boy to whom he could not speak.

He cradled his cheek, full of misery and death. His eyes scanned the ceiling. He held onto his breath.

But, the brother continued to live in silence: a quiet albeit unintended kind of violence.

And the father, anyway, still had nothing to say. (He could no longer distinguish between night and day.)

The sister - all drama - just didn't get it. If you loved somebody, then, surely you said it?

The daughter - all drama - made a regular habit of it.

She had learned to accept it was rarely reciprocated.

Nescio (9)

NESCIO (9)

In a far off kingdom - a hazy place - the father lay down, gently cradling his face. The pain radiated beyond his being. He was no longer sure he knew what he was seeing. He was no longer sure he believed what he saw. His daughter with black hair now stood by the door. 

His daughter with black hair now stood in the room. Though she blazed like a fire, it was cold as a tomb. Chill as a shadow, she lit up the gloom with her lips dripping blood and her eyes crazed with doom.

Her father had never had much time for children. He resented the daughter's impromtu interuption. 

He took a swig from his bottle of Beaver Creek then summoned his strength in order to speak but, of course (he'd forgotten), he was now rendered mute. (The cancer had spread to his mouth and his throat. And, it hadn't been long til it ate up his tongue.)

The father found nothing to say.

Nescio (8)

NESCIO (8)

The sister was enraged.

She resented the brother for finding another life without her.

(She decided to get engaged.)

As the years went by she began to go spare; wherever she looked, the brother wasn't there.

She screamed inside and pulled out her hair.

(The wedding was a quiet affair. She wasn't prepared to change her name.)

She learned to believe that, when things went wrong, it was her who was to blame.

(The marriage didn't last that long.)

The priestess was too pissed to care.

Nescio (7)

NESCIO (7)

The priestess provided the sister with a lover

Drunk as a skunk she, then, turned to the brother.

Enthused by success, she was feeling inspired.

She forgot that a lover was not what the boy required.

(Of course, a lover wasn't something

The woman could just conjure.

The best she could do 

Was to provide an aperture

Of opportunity.

She knew 

He was savvy 

With computers and
New technology.)

She introduced him to internet dating then sat back and waited; smoke-breath abating.

The brother decided to pack up his bags. He left his car, his wife and the cat. 

The brother decided to go to America. (When they finally found him, he was living in Florida, with a car, a wife and a cat).