Winning Stories 2009
Nameless by Sol Loreto-Miller
‘What’s in here then?’ Corey comes up beside me and squints into the cage.
‘A python.’
He watches it with me for about five seconds. It looks sad in there, all curled up on itself.
‘It doesn’t do much, does it?’ He taps on the glass. The python doesn’t stir. He taps again.
‘It says don’t bang on the glass,’ I tell him, pointing to the sign.
He narrows his eyes at me, says, ‘You always follow the rules, don’t you?’
It makes me smile, because he’s so wrong. I'm about to turn the whole world upside down. Upside down and inside out.
Corey snorts and turns away, staring goggle-eyed at the tarantula on the other side of the room. Big, red-and-black, hairy legs twitching.
He looks at it like it's not bothering him at all, trying to wind me up.
I ignore him and crouch down by the snake. It's still lying there, coiled like molten glass. Maybe it's asleep.
'Hey,' I whisper gently, not sure what else to do. 'Can you hear me?'
One icy black eye snaps open, as if it's been waiting for my signal.
Like it's been sitting in that cage forever, just so I can say that.
Suddenly I'm lost inside its stare.
Yes.
That's all I can hear. The python's voice - even though its mouth isn't moving, even though snakes can't talk, it's somehow speaking to me.
Like it spoke in my dreams.
Time slows down, blurred into sticky clumps like cold custard. I can't see anything except the snake. I stretch out a hand to touch the glass.
And the glass isn't there. My fingers go right through it.
The world vanishes around me. Red smoke grabs at my ankles and seeps into my chest, and I close my eyes, laughing hysterically even though it hurts, and soon I'm coughing and choking and rasping out horrible sounds, while the snake just sits there staring at me with its cold, black eyes.
Its tail winds to touch my forehead. Weird how I'm not scared at all.
Well, it's not like it's going to bite me, I think. Pythons don't do that. They strangle you.
Feather-light, the scales tickle my skin.
Who... are... you?
Who am I?
I don't know. I can feel it trickling away, sliding out of my head and down through the snake's tail into its body. I'm not sure if it matters anymore. It's all fading, like mist in the rushes...
A scream.
I can hear someone yelling. Corey's yelling, shouting my name like it's the last word left in the world. The snake jerks away from me- and I remember.
Suddenly the smoke's gone. I'm back in the zoo, knees buckling onto the cold floor.
Corey pulls me up. 'You okay?'
'Yeah...'
I look around. The snake's cage is gone. There should be guards, screaming people - but the room we're in is empty.
Except there's a shape on the floor, not far from me, hunched into a black coil.
I start trembling.
'I almost...' I swallow. 'I almost forgot who I am. It didn't say it was going to do that in the dreams...'
Corey glances at me. 'What dreams?'
I give a wobbly shrug. 'I kept seeing this snake every night, for the last couple of weeks. It... It told me it was going to help me... change things.'
It sounds so stupid. Corey just stares, a funny twitch in his eyes.
'How?' he asks.
'I dunno. I was thinking... I could get rid of all the bad stuff... stop people killing each other...'
That sounds even more stupid.
'But it tried to take your name.'
The snake twitches.
'It did, didn't it?' I stare at him. 'But - it didn't have any name itself. I remember that now. It never told me who it was...'
I look at the python, a black pipe rolled round itself on the floor, and realise I don't feel any fear. Just pity.
A grumbling snort from Corey. 'You're not sorry for it?'
'It doesn't have a name,' I say, taking a step closer. 'No-one ever named it... and it just keeps coming to people, clinging onto their dreams because that's all it's got left, just clinging and trying to survive, it tries to take their names but somehow it never does and then -'
I'm shaking.
'What is it?' Corey asks me, scared now. Really scared.
I'm walking forward. Maybe the snake's telling me to do that.
'It doesn't have a name,' I whisper, half to Corey, half to the python. 'It's never had a name.'
'So what?'
'Maybe if it had one it'd stop trying to steal other people's.'
Yeah. Maybe.
Because everyone needs a name. Especially this thing. It doesn't just want a name, it wants an identity, it doesn't know who or what it is -
And as I speak its new name, suddenly I know.
'What was that thing?' Corey asks me, as it disappears in a puff of black smoke, like something out of a book.
I just shake my head and smile.
'Wake up!'
My eyes snap open and I'm staring at the washy blue ceiling. Snakes wriggle across it like spaghetti before I realise it's the sunlight, squeezed in through the holes above the curtain.
Mum's already clattered downstairs by the time I drag myself out of bed. Eight a.m., the clock smirks at me, like it's pleased I had to wake up early. Why did I have to wake up so early? I was in the middle of dreaming about a snake, or something, and I definitely read somewhere that not enough sleep is bad for you.
Then I remember we're going to the zoo today.
'What's in there?' I squint into the cage Corey's standing by.
He points to the sign. 'Boelen's Python.' He snorts, tapping on the glass. 'It doesn't do much. Just sleeps.'
I'm so busy staring at the snake that I forget to point out the notice on the cage, the one that's screaming, "PLEASE DO NOT BANG ON THE GLASS," in big black letters.
Corey gives me a funny look and wanders off to gawp at something else.
And I move closer to the cage.
'Hey,' I whisper carefully. 'Can you hear me?'
It cracks open its black eye and looks at me. Just like it did in my dream.
Only this time, the glass doesn't vanish and the world doesn't turn into smoke, and I keep staring at the cage and wonder what else I expected. Because, really, that kind of thing doesn't happen.
Except in dreams and stories.
All that's left is me, whispering the name. I don't even know why I'm doing it, because there's no way this thing can understand, but it's almost like it does because it blinks, once, stretches lazily, and goes back to sleep.
And even though I'm probably imagining it, it looks like it's a bit more happy.
Sol Loreto-Miller aged 16
Archive - Henrietta Branford Writing Competition 2009 - 10th anniversary year
The Branford Boase Award for authors and their editors
The Henrietta Branford Writing Competition for young writers
