Glassy Surface, A Voice Trapped Beneath

Glassy Surface, A Voice Trapped Beneath

Molten words poured from his lips like a sizzling samovar. Her father’s veins bulged as he spat condemnations, while her mother spilt insults, sulphurous and jagged. As word-harpoons flew, Ayda shrank into the corner and filled her ears with symphonic metal. She closed her eyes and thought of the ocean, drowning anger in the sea’s soothing shush.  

Violet resignation wreathed Ayda’s mother like smoke. Ayda sat stiff, ignoring the impulse coiled within her. As cold, sharp pins slid against her scalp and hands shrouded her hair in synthetic black cloth, Ayda let her. Her headscarf muffled the world around. As the sun heated up her head, her mind sought the cool gleam where the land tore away. 

In class, kraken pursued sailing ships through the margins of her notes. 

Past the school’s gate sharp as sea urchin spines, Ayda waded through tides of chatter. She stopped before a girl in a headscarf brown as a treasure chest with keen almond eyes beneath caterpillar brows. 

“You still coming?”

Zeynab nodded. She burned with the same suppressed flame. 

A lane wound downwards between walls of rough stone. Displays brimmed with pastel shades of powdered teas. Bright woven bags snagged Ayda’s eyes but she did not stop till the lane opened to a line of boats and a square of flashing sea.  

The marina smelt of seaweed and brine. Her eyes caressed curved prows and wooden hulls. She would not tell her mother how joy flared when she stepped aboard. How they climbed to the top deck and unpinned their headscarves. How the wind teased loosed manes and unspooled knots within. How a singer crooned over the speakers, voice liquid lava, how their hips swayed like palm trees. How Ayda held the hairpins in her fist as glinting waves with tongues of foam taunted. Instead of flinging them in, she listened to salt-spray whispers till a hum rose from her depths. She could not remain silent, the next time. But what could she do? The cliffs of the marina stood tall as her mother, withstanding the crash of her father’s waves. She let the waves bring her strength.

Sound flickered like lightning as she sang, brief and halting.  

They danced till goosebumps prickled and stamped to the inner deck, wind-chilled, to gaze as blue mountains dissolved into dusk. 

When they loped up the cobblestone lane, every pin was in place. 

*

Ayda sat still as her mother’s rough hands brushed her hair into ebony waves. 

Heavy footsteps grew closer. As the door opened, Ayda braced herself. 

Flames erupted as her father unleashed his rage. Her mother spoke a soft defence that was smothered. Ayda felt her shudder as her father spat barbs, swift and viscous, piercing and tearing.

Within Ayda, tides surged.  

The brush clattered to the floor as Ayda stood. 

Her mother’s eyes widened. 

Ayda felt it stir in the depths of her. What was shrunken and chained burst upwards to crest the surface.  

Like a pirate flag, her voice unfurled.