Fanny and the Mystery in the Grieving Forest by Rune Christiansen

Author:Rune Christiansen [Christiansen, Rune]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book*hug Press
Published: 2019-08-24T13:56:26+00:00

The Joy Of Seeing A Nail Again

Fanny wandered around the schoolyard on her own, and chewed on a piece of wood, a bit of a branch from one of the birch trees. She spat, chewed some more, spat. The bell rang and at exactly the same moment, as though orchestrated, a jackhammer started up in one of the side streets. She spotted Janos over by the fountain, which had been closed for winter. He was standing with a couple of girls from one of the other classes. He appeared to be in an excellent mood and was gesticulating wildly. Fanny had not seen him like that before. And when she passed him on her way into the classroom, she overheard that he was talking about particular mountain formations. Mountain formations? Why was he talking about mountain formations? And why were the two girls so interested? When the door closed behind her, Fanny hesitated for a moment. She stood there in the middle of the busy corridor and was not at all perturbed by the looks people gave her. When she regained control, she walked calmly into the classroom and found her place by the window. Not long after, Janos plumped down at his desk in front of her. He typed something into his phone before returning it to the back pocket of his pants. Was it a text message to one of the girls? A suggestion about where to meet? A flirtatious sentence sent in haste? The sound of birds twittering rippled out from the frosty trees that surrounded the schoolyard outside, but there was no comfort in the presence of such indifferent creatures.

On the train, Fanny couldn’t find the nail. She searched all the pockets on her coat, without luck. Was there a hole somewhere, so the nail had fallen through into the lining? Fanny stood up and felt in all her pants pockets. And she couldn’t find it at home either. She even looked under the sheet, turned the pillowcases inside out, and looked under the bed with a flashlight. Just to be sure. Without joy. The nail had disappeared. She sat down on the edge of the bed. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry the same inconsolable tears she had cried when she tried unsuccessfully to stop her mother from leaving. It was long after the accident, and it was in a dream. But she didn’t cry. No sound passed her lips. She felt ashamed of losing her equilibrium so easily. It was a paradoxical feeling—as though she’d abused her own trust. Because she really was taken aback. And the nonsense with the nail had demanded more self-mastery than she was capable of.

She went out into the garden. It was snowing. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes. And yet it was spring that she imagined. The shimmering birch leaves. Everything was fragrant: jasmine, bird cherry, lilac. It was hard to breathe. Hard to hold your breath. She wasn’t sure what was what. She imagined that she looked like a scorched young birch in the midst of all the exuberant growth.

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