The Minnow by Diana Sweeney

Author:Diana Sweeney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV014000, JUV039110, JUV039030
ISBN: 9781925095012
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2014-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Whenever I can’t sleep, I count sheep. My friend Tracey-Ann (from before the flood) taught me a special method. ‘You can’t just count sheep, one, two, three,’ she said. ‘You have to create your own flock.’

Tracey-Ann was adamant that counting sheep was the best cure for sleeplessness. The special method, she said, had been handed down for generations and her whole family swore by it.

‘First,’ she said, ‘you have to imagine a flock. It doesn’t matter how big, in fact, the bigger the better.’

‘Hundreds?’ I asked her.

‘Sure, if you want,’ she said. ‘There’s no limit.’

We’re lying on the floor of the tree house. We’ve been here since lunchtime.

‘Imagine the sheep, grazing in a paddock,’ she said. She paused and looked at me. ‘Close your eyes, Tom,’ she said in her terse voice, ‘and pretend it’s night-time and you’re in bed.’ She waited a beat.

‘Now, this is important,’ she continued. ‘They’re not taking any notice of you. They’re grazing. You’re observing.’

I lay perfectly still, imagining my sheep and waiting for her next instruction.

‘Imagine every detail,’ she said after a lengthy pause. ‘What do the sheep look like? Are they all white, or do they have black faces? Are they woolly or recently shorn? Are they noisy or quiet? Are there any lambs? Is the paddock lush and green or brown with winter grass?’

‘You’re serious?’

‘Trust me, the more clearly you imagine it, the more potent the sheeping-pill,’ she said, and she turned to face me. ‘Get it?’

‘Oh, yes, sheeping-pill,’ I said, with emphasis. Tracey-Ann looked pleased.

Actually, it was easier than it sounded. When I bothered to focus, I realised the paddock had been there all the time. And I had a few hundred sheep, heads down, grazing, content. Okay, I thought, what’s next?

‘That’s all you do on the first night,’ answered Tracey-Ann. ‘I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon.’

I was sure she was dragging it out just to get another one of Mum’s lunches. But I didn’t care.

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