Dead Twin

I imagine this would constitute quite a long short-story from some of the stories posted on here. Hopefully it isn't too depressive, if so I'll post happier stories. Also, if you make it half way through and give up then also post. Need to know if I should make it less boring.

Anyway -

Dead Twin

There are some things which have haunted me. Or well, haunted is probably the wrong word. There are just some things which have really affected me. Henry is one I suppose but there is also the rabbit.

I was lying in my room listening to music – Sonic Youth. My room is one of those university cells with wood chip wallpaper and a dim yellow light. I was in Edinburgh then, and my exams were about to start. I sat there and I tried to pick out the different sounds of Thurson Moore and Lee Ranaldo's guitars. It was pretty hard, there was a whole lot of distortion and noise, it was all seemed like screaming.

I could hear people talking in the kitchen, and people walking around upstairs – I didn't really have the music on that loud. I felt restless, and started thinking about Henry. I often think about Henry when I'm restless. Henry was my twin, he died when he was only a couple of days old. Sad I suppose. His name was Henry Cline. Weird... like giving a name to a ghost. Would have been ironic if my parents had called him Casper.

My name is Dominic Cline, I was the stronger of the twins my mother gave birth to. We were both premature by three and a half weeks. Henry was particularly frail.

It can get me really down thinking about Henry. I've joined groups before, which are meant to help you deal with it. They've never really helped. Sometimes I get crazy about it too, I get totally irrational about it. I've been told this is perfectly normal.

It isn't that I beat myself up about it, I don't throw a fit and shout at myself. I just get into a kind of loop where I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about what kind of person Henry would be like. All these situations and memories keep turning over in my head from the past. I'm always imagining what my memories would be like with Henry there. It's really quite stupid – I don't even know what Henry would look like.

It's almost schizophrenic sometimes, pretty ****ed up. I get the devil-angel thing, with Henry sounding like my father, giving me advice. Or other times I'll try listen to him but he won't tell me anything.

I sat up a bit on my bed and pushed the covers back with my feet. I lifted my arms up and rested them on the wall behind me, feeling the wallpaper.

When I was younger I wrote a couple of stories about Henry and the things he would do. Most of them are pretty sad-pathetic things. Henry is usually like this genius kid. Kind of frail and weak, like he was when he was born. I protect him from bullies and all that junk. It's really stupid, I know, I never told anyone so I guess it was a bit like personal therapy which I gave to myself.

I walked over to the window and opened the curtains. It was actually a pretty nice evening. I looked at my watch, it was about quarter past seven. I hadn't eaten yet, which I knew was probably the reason I felt so bad. I really wanted to go for a walk, it was such a nice evening. I decided to forget about dinner - I wasn't feeling that hungry anyway. I turned Sonic Youth off, closed my curtains and left the flat.

It was warm enough not to be wearing a coat, I was just in a hoodie. Everyone seemed to be out, it was such a nice evening. I decided I'd go and walk around Holyrood park for a bit, perhaps go sit on the grass.

Holyrood park is like this massive area of moor-type land in Edinburgh. It lies in the middle of the city like a giant burial ground, but in reality it's just an extinct Volcano. The Mound, which is another hill in the city centre, is also an extinct Volcano - Edinburgh castle sits on top of that one.

There is a ring road which goes around the park, and as you walk up toward it there are several sloped fields which people tend to hang around on, kicking a ball or just sitting on the grass, talking and drinking with friends. Mainly students, the vast majority of Edinburgh is either Students or old people.

There are three parts to Holyrood park. There is Arthur's Seat, which is the peak and highest point. This is where most of the tourists go. It looks like the kind of crag you'd get eagles taking a launch off, or Vultures circling around. Unfortunately the most you get is a stray crow or seagull. There are great views of the city from up there and the climb is quite fun. From the entrance I was taking into the park, Arthur's seat was on my right. The way up is a steep path which curls around to the right, eventually leading you to the top. From most parts of the city you can see tourists and other people standing up the top, silhouetted against the sky. They look almost like scarecrows.

To the left of me was The Crags, a line of small brown cliffs which curl up and around the park, almost as if protecting it. People walk under the Crags as they raise up around to the left, or people a walk along the top of them. The top path always seems popular with dog walkers.

Once in the park you can see The Crags form a valley with a hill on the far side. Often, after it rains, water settles, and a little pond is formed in the middle of the valley. The water never really seems to drain away. Because of this no one walks right along the bottom - it gets too wet and marshy.

I was feeling a little tired but thought it would be nice to sit down on the grass away from the larger groups of people. I decided to head for a hill on the other side of the valley. You don't get many people walking around there, everyone either walks along The Crags or up Arthur's Seat. There is a path which goes through the centre of the park, hanging onto the left side of Arthur's seat. The trees lean over the path making it seem like a tunnel, then it opens out and you're left high up on the side of Arthur's seat, looking down into the valley. Eventually it curls around so you can get to the hill on the other side, or walk down the far side of the park back to the ring road.

As I walked through the trees I was finding it really hard to concentrate on anything. I think it was because I hadn't eaten. My stomach ached. My hands felt quite itchy too. Two girls passed by me, walking off down the hill, they were about my age, students I guess. I caught a little of their conversation as they passed.

“I don't think he really meant for it to end up like that.” One of them said.

“That doesn't matter, someone has to clean up the mess.” The other replied.

I looked over my shoulder as they walked back down the hill, one of them had shortish blond hair, tied back, it flicked about as she walked. Turning back around, I carried on up the path and toward the hill on the other side. I felt a bit of a headache coming on, or at least, I felt very light headed. Because I wasn't really thinking of anything a fragment of their conversation kept repeating over and over in my head. It flicked back and forth, to the rhythm of the girl's hair.

“Someone has to clean up the mess...Someone has to clean up the mess...”

It felt like someone had left an old analogue TV turned on. Looking down into the small valley - it was really quite pretty. The yellow gorse bushes were in full bloom and covered the far side in dark green and mustard yellow. The grass fluttered a bit in the wind. What the girl had said was still in my head; emphasis on different parts, the tone of voice always passive-aggressive, accusing. It reminded me of one of my old primary school teachers.

I had this teacher called Mrs Finnaly, she was tall and skinny with mousey brown hair and round glasses. She'd taught me in the second to last year of primary school. Overall she was a pretty pleasant lady.

There was a time in class when I felt sick with a tummy bug. I was handing out the handwriting books so that the class could practice handwriting. I told Mrs Finnaly that I was feeling ill but she was really short with me about it. I don't think she really believed at all that I was sick. I suppose she just thought I was lazy. That's what the voice in my head reminded me of - “Come on Dominic, just hand out the books.”, something like that. I got my own back in the end though. Handing out the books I was suddenly sick over the whole pile, and probably several of my classmates too. She was a bit more sympathetic after that.

It took me a while to climb up to where I wanted to be. By the time I got there I had a bit of a cold sweat. I was hot from the climb and the sun, but there was an occasional cool breeze which made me feel too cold when I took my hoodie off or stood in the shade. “Someone has to clean up the mess...” Was still going round in my head. I thought I knew why it was stuck, I'd remembered where it was from.

When I was thirteen my mother went into hospital for breast cancer. I don't want you to think our family just attracts disaster, lots of people get cancer. Besides, Henry wasn't really a disaster. We don't really have any idea how he would have affected our lives. Just, my mother was in hospital and my Dad had to work in the day, so I used to be left at home. I just did what all other kids did – I watched TV, read books and drew things - whatever.

We used to have this old wooden cabinet with all of the paper and drawing stuff in. There were also some vases and other pottery in there. Once in the summer I was sitting at home under the old cabinet with my back lent against it and my paper on the floor. I was drawing pictures of swords or monsters or something but I reached up to get some more paper without looking. I swept my hand along the top of the shelf to find where the paper was, but I ended up knocking one of the vases off the shelf. It smashed all over the floor and my drawing. I don't think I cried right away, I considered looking for the dustpan and brush but I didn't really know where it was. I didn't know where the super glue was either and I didn't feel like sticking it back together. Even at thirteen I knew that only worked in cartoons.

I felt pretty bad, but I knew it was only an accident. When my Dad came home from work and visiting my Mum in the hospital, he gave me a massive bollocking for smashing the stupid thing. I tried explaining to him it was only a mistake and I didn't do it on purpose. He said exactly what that girl said.

“That doesn't matter Dominic, it isn't going to clean itself up, is it! Someone has to clean up the mess.”

I suppose he was right too. Someone did have to clean up the mess.

I found a spot on the side of the hill where I could sit down. There was a small rock which acted as a seat and gorse bushes on either side – I wasn't too much out in the open either. The sun made it to the spot I was sitting but It slanted down over the top of the crags and into my eyes so I was squinting a bit. From my spot on the hill I could see down into the small valley of the park. I could see most of the people in the park, either walking along in the valley or around the top of the crags

I sat there for about fifteen minutes just looking at people walking along, my head seemed to be throbbing but it wasn't a headache. I suppose it just felt hot. I tried to think about things but I still couldn't pay anything any attention. I knew what I should be worrying about, the exams coming up. Things kept on getting lodged in my head and put on repeat, again and again, in different tones of voice and with different stresses. It was like all my primary school teachers were hiding in the bushes whispering at me.

I distracted myself by looking and spotted a rabbit down in the valley. Rabbits aren't uncommon in Holyrood park, but you're much more likely to see them in the early morning or at night. It was weird to see one in the early evening. I couldn't help feeling that it shouldn't really be there. Still, it looked rather at home in the sunshine and the grass. I watched it for a while as it lay down and nibbled some grass, hopping between patches of long shadow and sunlight. It was so confident. I didn't see it's ears ever twitch up in alarm, and I didn't ever see it stand up to look around. It just hopped along, nibbling at the grass.

The rabbit managed to hold my attention. The ominous voices of primary school teachers became quieter. I couldn't understand how it felt so at home with all these people running, walking, shouting and talking in the park. Even the air seemed tense and heavy. The sun was now slanting right down, casting long shadows and that yellow glare you get in the evenings. It seemed that it was anxiously trying not to set.

The rabbit didn't seem to notice any of this. It found a patch of grass and lay down, it's ears turned slowly and it's black eyes looked straight, it flicked it's tail and continued to lie there in the grass, just looking straight. I knew I was quite a way away but I was sure I could see it's chest move as it breathed. It really was a beautiful thing.

Suddenly the rabbit stood up and pricked it's ears. It turned it's head and fell to the ground, running and skipping towards the bottom of the valley. It was heading down to where the ground is marshy. I looked to see a dog running after the rabbit, barking it's stupid head off, it looked like a harrier. I could see in the eyes of the rabbit it was over. As the harrier grabbed onto the rabbit's leg and pulled it to the ground the rabbit didn't blink. The harrier flung the rabbit around in it's mouth, spreading red specks of blood onto the ground like tiny flowers. The rabbit didn't even open it's tiny mouth to scream. The harrier trotted with the rabbit in it's mouth over to it's owner. I noticed the left leg of the rabbit twitch a little. The rabbit's black eyes were still open, but it's body was so limp it seemed completely empty. It looked like it was full of long strings of felt, like some of my old soft toys.

The dog's owner was a middle class lady in a long red coat. She had short brown hair and harsh features. She wasn't a very attractive lady but she was the type that is more awkward than frustrated or aggressive. She tried for a while, unsuccessfully, to get the dog to drop the rabbit. She looked around, seemingly embarrassed, while her dog stood there, looking up at her, dropping blood onto the grass. There was no one else walking along the bottom of the valley and after some attempts, using more force, she managed to get the dog to drop the rabbit. She picked it up by the ears and threw it into a bush, standing on one leg so as to almost place it out of the way. She bent down to rub at a speck of blood on her shoe before standing up and walking away. The dog ran along too, going to sniff bushes and rocks, looking back occasionally for approval.

After that I sat there on the hill for a long time and I cried. I held my head in my hands and cried. I suppose I was crying at the rabbit. For a while I hated the lady and her dog. I hated the dog's stupid bark and the way the lady had thrown the rabbit into the bush. I hated how she was unattractive and how she had rubbed at the spot of blood on her shoes. My hatred didn't really last long, I couldn't force it. I remembered how the lady had looked around embarrassed, and how her dog had looked back at her for approval when they were walking away. I imagined her telling the story of what had happened to her husband.

For some reason I started thinking about Henry again. I wondered what he would think if I told him what had happened that day. I wondered if he would go to university and which university he would be at. All these stupid things I seem to wonder about every day. It was really frustrating and all the time I couldn't stop crying.

The sun had set over the top of The crags and it was starting to get cold. I was shivering and crying so badly. My teeth started chattering. I kept remembering the rabbit as it hung from the dog's mouth and twitched - it was making me feel sick. I felt so sick and weak. In my head I screamed at myself to stop crying. It was only a ****ing rabbit. It was just an accident. Why do I care? Why do I feel this way? I couldn't stop myself crying. Then things started getting a bit weird.

I started feeling very hot. The noises of the park were going around in my head, they all seemed to come from further away, and seemed sinister. My heart was beating very fast and I got these specks of white in my vision. I felt a little drunk and off-balance, separated from the world. I looked down into the valley. Things seemed to jump closer and nearer in my vision. It was making me feel really sick. I closed my eyes and the scene of what had just happened came back into my head. My heart was beating so fast. I saw the rabbit lying in the grass and hopping around, except everything was in fast forward. It hopped around so anxiously, resting for only short times before moving on.

A voice was talking in the back of my head. It was the voice of Henry, I don't know how I knew. He was talking about university and exams, he talked about how soon the exams were and how he felt under pressure about them. I didn't catch the details, he was talking so quietly and kept mumbling, while the rabbit hopped manically around.

Next I saw the rabbit in the dog's mouth. It just hung there and swung side to side. I remember thinking how dead it looked – how it had no control over itself any more. It just swung at the dog's will. There was talking over this scene too. Henry had stopped talking and I heard my dad talking instead. He was saying what the girl with the blond pony tail had said, over and over.

“Someone has to clear up the mess...someone has to clear up the mess...”

He said it like he'd said it when I smashed the vase. He was so angry. He seemed to match the rhythm of the rabbit's swinging in the mouth of the dog. I was still crying badly and my chest hurt.

I opened my eyes for a second but my vision seemed so blured by the tears and it was making me feel sick again.

I closed my eyes again and I saw the lady walking away, with her dog looking back for approval. I saw her walk away so relaxed and self-aware and I spotted the speck of blood on her shoe. I heard Mrs Finnaly over the top of this scene. She was telling me what she'd told me after I was sick over all of those books.

“Sometimes these things just happen, don't worry about it.”

She repeated this again and again, as the lady walked out of my sight, and in my memory I'd turned away. She said it softly, occasionally there was a tone of irritation, but nothing like the anxiety of before.

I opened my eyes and looked around. I picked a dandelion which was near me. My heart was still beating so fast and my vision was still ****ed up. I started picking at the petals to calm myself down, picking them off one by one and trying to concentrate on it. Mrs Finnaly was still in my head and eventually I calmed down and stopped crying. I sat on the slope for a while until I started feeling cold. I could feel myself shivering badly - the sun had set way below the crags.

I got up and walked back down the pathway toward the city. It was really very quiet in the park. Most of the people had left from playing around or sitting on the slopes chatting. It looked like I was actually one of the last in the park. I looked at my watch. It was around eight forty-five. The sun had just about set over the horizon. My stomach still hurt a bit. When I got to the main road the buildings looked very grey compared to the greens of the park. I decided I would just pick up some chips from the local chip shop and eat that instead of cooking. I was too tired and hungry.

My eyes were still a bit red and puffy from all the crying. But that would probably go down before I made it back to the flat. If people did ask me if I'd been crying, I'd just lie and tell them I'd been rubbing my eyes or something. Perhaps I could tell them my hay fever had been playing up. I don't think my flat mates would really understand about the rabbit. They'd want to talk about it, and analyse it, make sure it was clear in my head. Out the way so I could get on with life. They wouldn't understand.

It isn't like this is some kind of problem I can solve. I couldn't just ask them for help with it like I would maths homework. There isn't anything to work out. The rabbit just died and that was it. Maybe the rabbit is a life lesson and I'm missing the trick, but to be honest, I don't really care.

You see, sometimes things just happen. It seems pretty Godless, that something terrible can just happen, leaving you feeling so bad. It isn't even anyone's fault. It's a really hard and nasty thing to believe - it leaves you so out of control of your life. It makes people panic.

You probably think I cried because I blame myself for Henry. I've had that from everyone, those counsellors and twin-death support groups. They all told me the same thing – that I shouldn't feel like it was my fault for Henry's death. “Blame” implies some kind of problem to be solved. Unfortunately, that isn't what's wrong with me. I've never really blamed myself for Henry's death. Occasionally I've thought it, but I don't feel guilty or anything.

It feels like an excuse when I do blame myself - I can place all my fears and depression onto the ghost of Henry Cline, pretty convenient. Or I can feel the sadness and anxiety which results from my lack of control. I suppose it just feels more like living this way.

Agree with me or not, the rabbit always dies.