The Picture Board

By J Purdie

The Picture Board was something Sara was instructed to create, after a traumatic event in her life, to help with her mental well-being, it was to be a permanent fixture in her life, and when she met Jack she thought she finally found her happy ending, she had everything she ever wished for, her picture-perfect world was created, but when Jack went away for a few days, Sara began to unravel, ghosts from the past visited her and she realised, all was not what it had seemed, everything was wrong, off, and Sara realised her world was not perfect, her life wasn't what she thought it was, and Sara knew she was in far greater trouble than she first thought but, would she face up to it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Purdie
• Release date: Jan 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224835584

Book preview

Sara had another nightmare,  woke up covered in sweat,  trembling with fear, again it was replaying in her head like a bad movie stuck on a loop, so real so vivid, she dabbed the sweat away from her face, and tried to recall the whole nightmare, as usual, she could only remember parts of it, she remembered a loud explosion, people screaming, the noise of the building collapsing, bricks falling, slate tiles falling off the roof crashing to the ground, she saw other buildings collapsing, she was breathing in dust and soot, she could taste it at the back of her throat, she couldnt hear anything after the initial blast,  only the beating of her heart, a loud thumping boom boom boom, along with the taste of blood in her mouth, she tried to swollow it away but her throat was full of dust, and it hurt,  she saw bodies on the street, strewn like washing thats fell off the line on a windy day,  she looked for a long time trying to see if they were actual people or just dummys, manniquins, scattered for some sick joke, she remembered the smell of death filled her nose, blood and death, the bodies seemed to be people she knew,  neighbours, her parents, she saw limbs scattered, debris lots of debris,  kids from next door all laying in a row where the rescuers had placed them, their arms crossed over their lifeless bodies, more bodies being added to the line, Sara wondered how long the death line would be by the time the rescuers finished, searching for victims.

Sara took a deep breath, her heart dropped when she saw a man standing before her, a dark solid shadow, she stared at him, he had no features and was solid black,  he stood still and said nothing, who was this man? she didn't know, she wasn't sure what had happened, did he cause all the chaos, did she? she thought she should feel sad, upset, devastated, scared, at her horrific nightmare, unfolding before her, but she wasn't, she saw the scene before her and took it all in, every last minute detail like the scene was etched on her brain forever, maybe it was, maybe thats why she felt nothing no emotion at all,  had she had the nightmare so many times before it de-sensitised her? was she indifferent to how she should feel, and was it even real?

CHAPTER ONE

SARA'S CHILDHOOD

Sara's childhood wasn't like other children's childhoods, she learnt from an early age she was different from the other children on the street, she knew she wasn't 'normal' like the other kids, her parents told her often enough., you are not like them her mother would say youre different, special.

Her parents were leftover hippy's, from some long lost decade they never seemed to come out of, the seventies, seventies music filled the home, played on an old tape recorder, no potpourri, or the smell of cooking in this home hell no, only the aroma of dope, that was the smell Sara grew up with, she would even smell it on her clothes, that's why her parents never let her out of the house, in case others would smell it and their secret be exposed, that they were drug-fueled layabouts and bad parents, who never wanted her in the first place.

They had no modern appliances,  they didn't believe in using electricity bad for the planet they said, to tight more like,  Sara was allowed an old record player and she played it every day, they preached love and peace to outsiders, but showed no love to their only child, who from day one realised she was a mistake and they didn't want her, there was no room for her anywhere in their lives, their main concern of the day was buying and smoking dope.

They did nothing to parent her or teach her, they were so laid back they were almost horizontal, the house was as outdated as they were, her father would leave the house at midnight every night, not to work but to steal, he stole items from the back gardens and alleyways of peoples homes,  stuff people had thrown out for the bin men, he took it, said he'd do it up, but, he never did, he started to raid the big bin at the back of the supermarket and come home with all kinds of foul-smelling items her mother then cooked, the house was a mish-mash of styles, old broken items no one wanted, in other words, rubbish! broken and dysfunctional seemed to fit right in in the Wilson household.

It was a solitary existence, an only child, in a world where every day was in black and white, Sara never saw the colour, her bedroom was sparse and bare, her record player was her saving grace, Pammy next door gave it to her, and a few old records, music from Spain, Mexico, and Latin America,  Sara loved them for when she played them she was transported to that country, too far off places, that was her escape, old records and her vivid imagination, when she heard the music her dreams were in full blown colour, bright colours, reds, golds, blue skys, but then as the record finished and the needle returned to its resting place her world was once again in black and white, all her memories were in black and white and dull gray, the music brought her imagination to life, and in that short time, she escaped this dreary dull existence, she was 17 going on 70, she hated everything, her home, her street, her parents, her life, her self, she detested Time, her whole life she hated time, it was never her friend, time always dragged by so slowly, she often wondered if all the clocks in the world had stopped as time didn't seem to move for her, she was so bored.

She never went to parties, didn't have boyfriends or friends at all, never had the normal things other kids had, , she'd spend most of her days locked in her bedroom looking out of the window, watching all the other kids playing, skipping, laughing, and wished she could be like them, at Halloween she'd watch them trick and treating to each other's homes all dressed up in scary costumes, bursting into giggles when they got some sweets thrown into their bucket, it looked fun, Christmas she watched them all dressed up and going to parties, or carol sing,  how she wished she could do that to join in be with the other kids in the neighbourhood, but she didn't have anything decent to wear let alone take a gift, what would she take,  something her father made?  or stole from the back alleyways? or fell off the back of a lorry.

They're not like you,  her mother would say,  your special, different, you need protecting, always remember that Sara you're different, kids are cruel Sara, so very cruel.

Sara would nod and listen but she didn't agree with her mother, she wanted to be outside like the other kids, she wanted to breathe, to live, to make mistakes,  learn by them, she wanted them to treat her as one of them, she wanted to play hopscotch, run to the shops, paddle in the stream,  she wanted to skip, fall over, get up and carry on, wanted to be like them, learn dance moves with friends, laugh, giggle, grow up feeling secure,  she yearned for company, yearned for someone to love her.

The wilsons lived in a big purple house, at the end of the street, large kitchen come diner they sat in all the time, to tight to heat the whole house so this was where they spent most of their time, a living room they never sat in and four bedrooms, and a large hall, they'd sit huddled around the gas cooker for heat, it was built in the georgian period and it was a nice home halls seemed to go on forever, each room a good size, plenty of light but at night it creaked and groaned like it was trying to say something, Sara knew all the cold spots the spots where the ghosts and monsters would live and one such space was right outside her bedroom door, it froze her to the bone everytime she went in and out of her room, her father said it was draught from a vent but Sara knew different.

The house inside and out was painted purple, her father got the paint off the back of a lorry and Sara swore you could see the house from space, it was so bright, so, not only was she the weird kid who lived in the weird house with the weird parents, they had to paint the house inside and out, bright purple to advertise the fact, that they were strange, it was her mothers favorite colour and her father loved it.

Sara, had a small mirror in her room what was the point she never needed one never went out, never liked what she saw in the mirror, she  had dark-hair, she was short, and tubby, she envied her mother who was tall, slim, and long blond hair, she hated the fact her mother looked good in anything she wore, she didn't even have to try to look good she always did, her father was dark-haired with curly hair that framed his handsome face, and a perfect smile, they made a striking couple, they were always kissing and hugging each other, Sara thought it gross, and the drugs must be stronger than she thought, it repulsed her, were in love her mother would gush, together forever and ever thats us shes say, Sara felt her stomach churn, she would go to her room out of the way.

Sara took after her granny,  in build and stature, short and overweight, her granny had died a year before, the woman was a stranger to her, not like a real granny, Sara did remember her being bad-tempered like she hated the world, always spoke sharply and shouting like she was telling you off, the scowl on her wrinkled face said it all.

Sara had never seen the woman laugh or smile, a miserable woman, miserable face to match, she never had any teeth and would sit making a chewing motion the whole time, Sara found this annoying, and wondered if the old lady did this even when she was asleep, or would she do it when she was dead? there were no sleepover's at her home, no sweeties and cuddles off her, no grand days out, unloved by her, and unloved by her parents, Sara always felt in the way, they gave her books to read, that was their level of homeschooling,  her father found them in a neighbours bin, so it was either playing a few records she had, in a cold bedroom trying to keep the feeling in her fingers, by wrapping her hands round a hot mug of tea, or reading books or sitting around the fire in the kitchen watching them get high, listening to weird music, that came from an old tape recorder machine, that ran on batteries and when the batteries were wearing out the machine slowed down and the songs were a dragged out agonising longer rendition than it needed to be, oh sara knew and detested them all, yet still they would sit there and listen to it, saying they don't make music like this anymore, Thank God Sara would snap back.

––––––––

Looking out of the bedroom window onto the street filled Sara's day, people watching she called it, watching the neighbours going about their daily routine, she learnt people were creatures of routine, at midday and six pm every day around the corner came old Mr underwood and his dog Woody, sometimes he'd look up and wave, sometimes he was busy talking to someone and forgot to wave at her, they made a fetching couple,  made Sara smile, Mr underwood was small and stocky build, with grey hair and a big droopy white moustache, he always wore a checked jacket, and flat cap, the dog was small, overweight,  with a droopy moustache and wore a dog coat made from the same fabric as Mr Underwood's coat, a perfect match she thought, they were always together side by side, she thought it cute that the dog was Mr Underwoods best friend,  you never saw one without the other.

She had watched as Pammy from next door get bigger with her new baby bump for the whole nine months, her fifth child, she already had four boys and this one they announced was to be a girl, she was sitting by the window the day Pammy came home with the baby, a small bundle with a screwed up face, wrapped in a shawl,  she watched as she got out of the taxi, all the kids ran over to see the baby as if they'd never seen one before, Pammy looked up and waved, she held the baby up a little and Sara gave the thumbs up and smiled back, her mother had asked if Sara could babysit, Pammy said maybe later on when the baby was older, said she was far more protective as it was a baby girl, Sara was pleased she hadn't said yes, she didn't relish looking after the other four who were for a better word, ferral, they ran wild all day in the back garden, screaming shouting and then crying, the only times they were quiet was when they were in bed sleepingh or when they were eating, it wasn't a bad street, just lonely, all her life was in black and white in her head, this only added to the depression and sadness that made up her childhood.

Sara got her first glimpse of freedom,  and the real world when her parents died, she was 13 days off her 18th birthday, and on that day she intended to leave hitchhike anywhere just to get away from her parents, and the mausoleum called a house, she wasnt going to tell anyone she was going to sneak out and run, she had been stealing cash off the sideboard each night and had a few hundred pounds she was planning to go.

Miraculously she survived the blast, because she was at the far end of the house in her room as usual, over the unused living room, one minute she was sitting there on the bed looking at the wall, next, there was a massive explosion, sara could'nt see for dust dirt and soot, when the air cleared she saw, bricks falling and the roof had gone off the house, the wall sara was sitting looking at minutes ago was no longer there, it took her a few minutes to work out why she could now see the sky instead of a roof, she had gone deaf from the blast, all she heard was her heart thumping in her chest, boom boom boom, she wished it would stop she wanted to hear what was happening but there was nothing.

The whole house had shook, she saw people outside putting up their hands to tell her to stay put, she had no option there was no where else she could go, there was no hallway nor stairs, only a wall and the door somehow still closed, standing their alone like it was suspended in mid air, Sara looked at it like it was a magic trick, unsure of what she was seeing, looking through the wall that was once there onto the outside, Sara saw the house and next door was gone, huge pile of rubble left in its place, she looked down the row and saw the park, she had never been able to see the park before, even if it was just the tops of the trees, she saw people scrambelling all over the street, running from their homes to have a look see what had happened,  some looking in horror, others crying some with their hand over their mouths, staring at the scene before them, and people filming it on their mobile phones, phones held high all wanting the perfect shot.  some of the men getting to work to move the rubble look for bodies, Sara stayed where she was, sitting on the bed with one half of the house missing,  she watched as the neighbours formed a human chain, they were passing bricks, and bits of wood to each other,  Sara saw her mothers clothes scattered all over the street, and one of her bras in the tree in the garden, dirty washing in the street, for all the neighbours to see,  mother wont be happy, Sara thought airing the dirty laundry in public, that would never do, Sara gave a wry smile to herself, she spat out the dust in her mouth, coughed a lot, people telling her to stay still, she heard no sound but saw them all waving at her to go back or stay put.

She couldnt sit still and cough, she tried to repress the cough, looked outside to distract her,  items and people scattered all down the street, Sara thought lets see what belongs to whom, she saw bits of bodies laying scattered in the rubble, thought she saw a leg on the roof oppisite, she was staring at it trying to work out whos leg it was, she worked out it was a females leg, looked like pammys pink socks, she saw a dog coat like the one no, she didnt want to think that so she looked over towards the bypass next to town, she saw the blue lights coming along the bypass, knew they were coming to her, lots of blue lights, she couldnt hear sirens, but knew help was