Whisper: Book one
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About this ebook
There is a very private, sheltered spot in the nearby forest which Britney uses as a place to hide away if ever her mother has to spend the day walking into the nearest town to purchase supplies or to trade goods. They have discreet, non-verbal signals which they use to keep the area hidden and make sure that Britney is secure (far away from Pa’s prying eyes).
On one such day, Britney hears unusual sounds and is terrified that her father has found out about their system, but the surprise turns out to be just a lonesome little puppy. The girl quickly becomes friends with the stray, instantly joining forces in their solitude, only ever meeting in the secret place where they share such a deeply silent, unspoken bond.
This continues until Ma helps her only child run away for good, tearfully leaving Britney to fend for herself in the best way she knows how. The adoring puppy (promptly being referred to as Whisper) unexpectedly follows the girl, and together they set off on a journey that will forever change their lives…
Alison Bellringer
Alison Bellringer has been writing short stories to share with friends and family for many years and always enjoys exploring her creativity when putting pen to paper. She is excited to have the opportunity to share her love of writing with others. Alison loves spending time with her pet dog, a Labrador x Huntaway called Smoky, teaching her tricks and taking her for walks. She lives in a small town in New Zealand near many beautiful parks and beaches. Alison has been playing trombone since about 2010, and euphonium from mid-2019, and always likes getting together with a few friends to ‘make a joyful noise’. She also enjoys a bit of photography when she gets the chance, especially if it involves taking pictures of sunsets.
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Book preview
Whisper - Alison Bellringer
Chapter One
The door closed with a startling bang, announcing the abrupt arrival of Pa. I scurried under the kitchen table quicker than you could say ‘Bob’s your uncle’. Shivers crawled up my arm when I heard his booming voice. Pa was inevitably in one of two moods: either he would sit moodily in the corner of the kitchen, paying no heed to anything and being utterly harmless, or he would come in completely drunk and be fuming mad about nothing at all. Certainly nothing of great consequence – at least, not anything I could understand at the time. If it was the latter option, which was by far the more common of the two, then absolutely anything could set him off. He would shout at Ma while banging his fist on the table, then he’d throw whatever he could find near to hand across the small room. He often hit Ma if she didn’t do exactly what he wanted the minute he wanted it; she always had to anticipate his wishes, but there were still times when she got it wrong and paid painfully for the mistake. Although it happened so often, I sometimes wondered subconsciously if he wasn’t hitting her simply for the sake of it. I was always afraid of what he might do next. And so I cowered under the table, huddled into a tight ball, never sure which mood he would be in when he got home. I had learned very quickly to take no chances and just stay out of his way, no matter what.
I heard heavy boots thumping across the floor, coming ever closer, and a loud ‘oomph’ as Pa sat down. The wooden chair creaked under his weight. One day, it was going to break like all the others had done before, a single jagged crack spreading directly across the middle, splitting the chair in two. That would probably make him even more outraged than normal: when it broke, our last remaining chair would be gone.
I rocked back and forth, willing the disagreeable man to go away and leave us be. I was barely five years old, far too young to understand what was really going on deep down, but I dreaded the daily routine. Almost every night turned into the exact same thing: Pa would come home and lash out at Ma for no reason at all. I knew we could not afford to buy food; Ma and I were always going hungry while Pa sat there eating his fill. The little cottage was collapsing: chickens had free rein inside, the place was filthy, and our clothes were threadbare. Ma was too weak to take proper care of anything really; all her energy was spent running around after Pa’s every whim, too frightened of receiving another beating if she didn’t do his bidding immediately.
I stopped rocking and froze. It had started! Pa was angry again.
Where’s the butter?
he shouted.
We ran out…
Ma mumbled quietly. I couldn’t see her, but I knew her bottom lip would be trembling as she tried to answer Pa in the best possible way to satisfy his terse demands.
Well, buy some more then!
Pa ordered gruffly, soaking up dry clumps of bread with the thin, watery soup, swallowing large mouthfuls at a time.
We have no money…
Ma whimpered.
I had my eyes tightly closed, and my hands were clapped firmly against my ears, but that could not stop Pa’s anger seeping through or Ma’s terrified, protesting screams. Then came the part I dreaded the most…
Where is that child?
Pa would bellow suddenly.
She’s not here.
Ma always murmured calmly, lightly responding to Pa’s direct question but meticulously carrying on with her simple dinner duties regardless of what he had just said.
Where is she then?
Pa demanded. Find her at once!
There was the sound of another slap before Pa stomped out the cottage door. And then I couldn’t control myself any longer and began crying pitifully.
Come here, child.
Ma reached under the table, pulling me tenderly into her arms. Whisper, Britney.
She shushed me hastily, afraid Pa would hear the commotion and come back inside.
Ma always did her best to keep Pa away from me, but once in a while he would find me first and half-kicked, half-prodded me on the floor with his big boot in disgust, until Ma could intervene. We lived in constant fear; we didn’t know anything else.
Each night, Ma would rock me in her arms while I cried.
Whisper, Britney. Ma’s here…
she would often say, amidst my sobs and hiccoughs, until I had calmed down. I always fell asleep to her gentle voice singing quietly; she was the only comfort I had.
I didn’t have any friends as Pa did not approve of visitors, and we lived well away from the nearest