Koru 1

Much travelled. Traveller. Writer in the dark, writer of the dark, but not dark writer. Following my whirling thoughts in the spiral they are singing, and singing with them in a deep voice, sometimes, between two silences. I throw isolated words in a blank world, and watch them crash all around. My path is strewn with meaningless letters. Corpses of words.

They call me Ness. The Dark Ness. The monster of the Loch Ness. The one you show, but that you never see. Always hiding. It's me.

***

_Dad! I've been stung by a bee!

Little Lysa was running towards me, trying to outrace the tears running down her cheeks, her thumb held out as the place of the injury.

_Let me see... Ok, come with me to the kitchen. The stinger's out, we just need to clean that.

_Will it hurt?

_No, my darling, it won't hurt. You've been very brave, and it's almost over now.

I had learnt how to make my voice soothing over the years, but I was still so scared, inside.