Young Writers Society

Flower heads fell, decapitated, into the dark green pool to sit crystalline on the surface, along her legs, through her hair. It was a dense muteness overpowering the clammy cold of her skin and the enclosing weight of her jeans. Colour was fading fast from her face and her lips as it was sucked into the water and she bobbed, helplessly succumbing to it. The feeling was intoxicating; the smell of fresh grass, the refreshing chill of the air on her throat and her limp hands. If her eyes were opened she would see a white, concealing sky, pierced by glass roofs and green stems. Without sight she could imagine this to be one long, lazy bath stretching out before her; she could let herself sink deeper and deeper. The garden was a wild lagoon with passion flowers gaping open, their scent sweetening the water sweeping over her arms and legs and torso, and from every edge leaned foliage: she was drowning in paradise.

Danielle

My sister was missing for three days before they found her shoes tucked in some bushes beside the lake. She was still in her costume from Emily Jessop’s party. My sister was undeniably lovely: driving guys to distraction, untouchable and unbelievable, so she made a beautiful corpse.

Though we hadn’t shared a room since I was twelve I have some of her things in my room. There is a cd I borrowed from her five years ago that she didn’t want back, earrings she bought in France on a market that haven’t been taken out of their case, and a lipstick she said didn’t suit her complexion.

Unpredictability was part of knowing Piper because she did whatever she felt like. Sometimes she would show up on my doorstep to say hi at three in the morning; I’d assumed that once we were both moved out of the house seeing her would be like a family event maybe twice a year. She was liked inexplicably: she managed to hold onto admiration through every screw up. Piper was all-involving and ever-disappearing.

I spent a week after the wake at my parents’ house; people came and went who’d known my sister. People that didn’t know her observed our private tragedy from a distance. We saw Reuben the day before and the day after. I’ve known Reuben longer than my sister did, even though he was her fiancé. He’s almost 21, two years younger than her. He’s my friend, was my best friend…is my best friend. Honestly I’m not sure what he is to me. Reuben didn’t say much, as if he was struck dumb, and he couldn’t meet my gaze. When he shook dad’s hand it was a crushing formality, while mum couldn’t stop crying. I had to go through Piper’s things or it would have been left a frozen shrine. Not that I cleaned the house of her. That would be impossible.

Were we ever sisters in more than genetics? Reuben and sharing a room were our only similarities and they didn’t keep us together. She met Reuben at my apartment; he was a second year at the university when I started, slight curls in his copper hair. Piper’s impact was obvious. Did I mention she once went on a couples’ cruise alone and came back with phone numbers? She said it would be unfair to act on it.

Standing in the presence of my sister I think I know why her friends go wild around her, trying to be noticed. Piper charms…charmed.