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A Tense Night for Hilda (completed 6th Dec)

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#1: A Tense Night for Hilda (completed 6th Dec) Author: Katya, Location: Mostly Bradford

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 4:05 pm
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A very merry Christmas to everyone on the Board, with special thanks to MaryR for proofreading, advising, encouraging and cajoling! Wink

“What a day!” Hilda Annersley sank down in her chair with a huge sigh and looked at the white-haired woman sitting opposite her. “If I’ve told Lower IV once not to say ‘for my friend and I’, I’ve told them a thousand times, but do they listen? And they seem to think that commas are for decoration, rather than for any grammatical purpose. I swear they just put them in where they think they look pretty, because they certainly don’t put them where they actually need them! Things never used to be like this. Sometimes I think I might as well talk to myself…” She sighed again, gustily.

Nell Wilson, who had listened to her co-Head’s diatribe with a sympathetic, if gently amused, expression on her face, poured a generous cup of coffee from the pot on the little table between them and stood up to hand it to Hilda.

“You sound like you need this,” she said, as Hilda smiled up at her gratefully. “Sit there and relax. It will all seem better in the morning.”

“No, it won’t,” grimaced Hilda. “Tomorrow I’ll have to correct all the work I saw fit to return to them today! I feel like Scrooge, giving them extra things to do this close to Christmas, especially when they’re busy rehearsing the play, but really – this latest batch of compositions was the outside of enough, as Joey would say!”

“Scrooge? My dear, anyone less like Scrooge than you would be hard to imagine.”

“I’ll bet that’s not what Lower IV thinks!”

Sensing her friend was not to be cheered on that score, Nell steered the conversation to happier matters and they chatted companionably until the coffee was finished and the fire was sinking low in the hearth. Nell set her cup down and rose to her feet.

“Bedtime for tired teachers, I think. Coming? You look exhausted.”

“You go; I’ll just put my things ready for the morning and see to the lamp and the fire.”

“Don’t stay up too late, then. You need some rest!” With that, Nell smiled fondly at Hilda and made her way from the room.

Hilda gazed into the dying embers, trying to summon the energy to move. It wouldn’t matter if she closed her eyes, just for five minutes, and the chair was so comfortable... Why was she so tired? She must be getting old. She must be losing touch with her pupils, or else why was she not getting through to them? Why couldn’t they understand what she was telling them? Why? Why? Question marks circling round and round before her eyes, she fell into a fitful doze.

She awoke to silence. The lamp had gone out and the glow of the almost extinct coals cast a dull, red light into the room. How long had she been there? It must be late. Shivering, she pulled her cardigan close about her and stood up wearily. As she stared at the hearth, a sharp noise suddenly penetrated the mists of her tired brain. Clack! And again. Clack! Clack! Clackety-clack! It carried on, more insistent all the while. She knew that sound. But who on earth would be using the typewriter at this time of night? Rosalie certainly had a lot of work to do, but surely she had gone to bed hours ago. A cold breeze on her neck made Hilda whirl round. No-one. Curiosity overcoming the unpleasant feeling that she was being watched, she moved to the communicating door between the study and the office and opened it cautiously. The noise stopped. The office was empty.

Puzzled, and feeling uneasy, she walked to Rosalie’s desk, where the typewriter stood. Odd that the usually methodical school secretary should have left a sheet of paper in it, she thought. And there were two lines of type on the page. Rosalie never left half-finished correspondence lying around! Hilda stooped to read the words… and jumped back in terror as the typewriter keys began to move, clacking away before her eyes and continuing the letter:

Dear Miss Annersley,

So you feel like Scrooge, do you? Well, you know what happened to him... The ghosts have had very little to do of late, so tonight they will pay you a visit. Who knows – perhaps they will be able to teach you a lesson. After all, who teaches the teachers?

Her heart racing, Hilda ripped the sheet of paper from the typewriter and held it in her trembling hands. This could not be happening! She was tired and she was seeing things. The letter had been there already, surely – it must have been Nell, playing one of her jokes. She would have words to say to her in the morning! Jokes were all very well, but this one had Hilda really rattled. She scrunched up the sheet of paper forcefully, retreated to the study and stuffed it in among the remains of the fire, where she was surprised to see it catch light immediately and burn away to nothing in seconds. She had not thought there was that much life left in the embers, but never mind – at least it was gone now. She jabbed at the fire viciously with the poker, just to make sure, then, after one last, cautious look into the office – which still appeared to be empty – she made her way upstairs, somewhat more hastily than usual. Once in bed, she pulled the covers tightly around her and resolutely shut her eyes. There were no such things as ghosts. It was just Nell’s idea of a joke. Scrooge didn’t believe in ghosts and neither did she. There were no such things as ghosts...

Last edited by Katya on Wed Dec 06, 2006 1:49 pm; edited 3 times in total

#2: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 4:17 pm
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Poor Hilda - she's not having a good evening, is she? Anyone less like Scrooge I have yet to meet. Shocked

The end of that was very spooky, Katya. I felt like hiding my head under the covers just like Hilda.

Thank you.

#3: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 4:23 pm
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Yes, that's scary, Katya. Poor Hilda, not a good end to the day for her.

#4: Author: wheelchairprincess, Location: Oxfordshire, UK

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 4:45 pm
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Oooh that was creepy yet also very Christmassy. I like it. Looking forward to seeing what happens next!

Thank you Katya

#5: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 7:42 pm
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Ooooh looking forward to seeing if the three ghosts visit!

Thanks, Katya Very Happy

#6: Re: A Tense Night for Hilda Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 8:18 pm
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Katya wrote:

“If I’ve told Lower IV once not to say ‘for my friend and I’, I’ve told them a thousand times, but do they listen?

I'm probably being very stupid, but I am confused about what is the correct grammatical use for the sentence. Embarassed

Thanks, Katya. I look forward to reading more.

#7: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 8:37 pm
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I believe you should say 'for my friend and me' for it to be correct.

#8: Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 8:40 pm
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Quite right. The test is to leave out the friend and see what is correct. In this casw you would naturaly say 'for me', so add the friend in to make 'my friend and me'.

#9: Author: Lottie, Location: Humphrey's Corner

Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 9:21 pm
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Poor Hilda. I know how disorientating it is to fall asleep in a chair and rouse later, chilly and only half awake - I have a bad habit of doing it in front of the computer, Embarassed

either before, or after, turning it off. But to then hear ghostly noises too - it would be very unnerving! (And I've a nasty feeling that Miss Annersley would have something to say about my English too!)

Thanks, Katya.

#10: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 5:58 am
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Ooh, Katya, this is inspired...poor Hilda - it must be the grammatical equivalent of water torture.....

#11: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 11:14 am
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*giggles* Well, that's an unusual end to the day. Poor Hilda - it sounds like the class deserved all she gave them. What has she invoked by her words though?

Thanks Katya - looking forward to more.

#12: Author: Katya, Location: Mostly Bradford

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 12:58 pm
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“Annersley! Wake up!”

Hilda’s eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding as though it would leap out of her chest. She had not heard that voice for more years than she cared to count, but she could not forget it. It belonged to one of the most terrifying men she had ever encountered, who had made her seven-year-old life a misery as she struggled to comprehend his baffling explanations of subjects, objects, predicates...

“Annersley, I said wake up! I’ll have no sleeping in my class! Come here, girl! Now!”

Not daring to disobey, Hilda leapt out of bed and found herself standing face to face with a tall, hawk-like figure wearing a mortarboard and a voluminous black gown over a dark grey suit. He was holding a wooden ruler in his right hand, tapping it against his other palm with an ominous, regular beat. Hilda’s hands involuntarily clenched into tight fists as memories of the pain that ruler had inflicted came flooding back to her.

“Well, Annersley? What have you to say for yourself?”

“Please, Mr. Pike,” she began – and then stopped. She was no longer that petrified little girl, who had written out grammar rules time and again until she ran out of paper, then repeated them to herself over and over until she was word perfect, knowing it was the only way to be safe from that strip of wood. She was a grown woman, a headmistress, respected by all her staff – and she wasn’t afraid. What was more, she was now as tall as Mr. Pike. She looked him straight in the eyes, and her voice when she spoke brooked no prevarication.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am the Ghost of Punctuation Past.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts – and you haven’t answered my question.” Hilda’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“I have come to remind you how things used to be; how they should be. In the old days, things were so much better. We had discipline, and by God it worked! I made sure you learnt. You owe your grammar to me. I hope you are grateful.”

“Grateful? When you made my life Hell? When you terrified me? When you humiliated me in front of my friends? When you hurt me? Yes, I learnt, but at what price? The past is exactly where you belong, you horrible man, and that is where you should stay – gone forever!”

As she shouted the last word, Mr. Pike vanished. Hilda stood there, breathless with the force of her anger, and looked round the room, unwilling to believe what had just taken place and trembling with the emotion of having confronted her childhood tormentor. Whatever her students thought of her, surely she could not be as awful as he had been? The Ghost of Punctuation Past, indeed. She remembered only too well how he had quite literally beaten things into his classes until no-one dared make a mistake. Perhaps she did owe her impeccable grammar and punctuation to him, but, despair as she might over the state of Lower IV’s compositions, she could never countenance his methods. Better that they should remain uncertain than that she should resort to instilling knowledge by fear. And yet her girls must learn, or she would have failed them! They must go out into the world able to understand and be understood, able to express themselves, able to communicate.

Turning back towards her bed, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She regarded the face before her, holding its gaze thoughtfully.

“Am I too harsh with them?”

She voiced the thought, then started with shock when the face in the mirror replied, “What do you think?”

Hilda’s jaw fell open. The face in the mirror merely raised one eyebrow.

I don’t believe this, thought Hilda. I must be dreaming – or going mad – or both! I’m having a conversation with my own reflection…

“Actually, you’re having a conversation with the Ghost of Punctuation Present,” replied Hilda-in-the-mirror. “It just so happens that I usually take on your form.”

Hilda pondered this for a moment. She was certain she was going mad now, but perhaps if she humoured the “ghost” it might go away and leave her alone. It was worth a try. Besides, she thought, beginning to feel mildly hysterical, surely this was unfair: wasn’t Scrooge allowed to go back to bed between visitations, so at least he got some sleep? She fixed the mirror with a look that would have had even the most innocent of middles racking her brain for forgotten misdemeanours.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were being cheeky,” she said.

“Who should know me better than you? After all, I am you.”

“I thought you were the Ghost of Punctuation Present?”

“So you do believe in me!”

Hilda shut her eyes, gave her head a quick shake, opened her eyes and looked again at the mirror. She had the distinct feeling she was losing her way, not to mention losing an argument she wasn’t even sure she was having.

“You seem a little perturbed,” said her reflection.

“Can you blame me? It is rather disconcerting having a conversation with oneself in the mirror in the middle of the night.”

“You’re telling me! Or I suppose, to be more strictly accurate, you’re telling you.”

Hilda groaned, and her face assumed a pained expression. She suddenly knew exactly how Alice had felt, trying to have a meaningful discussion with the Cheshire Cat.

“I could disappear and leave you looking at only your smile if you want,” said the reflection, “but somehow I’m not sure that would help matters.”

Hilda decided that, in the interests of retaining what little sanity seemed left to her, she would assume that the face in the mirror had not been reading her thoughts. She couldn’t take much more of this. Perhaps she should start looking round for a blunt instrument. The mirror was only made of glass, after all.

“Anyway,” said her reflection (somewhat hurriedly, Hilda thought, and winced), “shall we come to the main reason for my visit to you tonight?”

“What a good idea,” replied Hilda through gritted teeth.

“You asked whether you were too harsh on your students. Let me show you something...”

Last edited by Katya on Mon Dec 04, 2006 1:37 pm; edited 1 time in total

#13: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 1:12 pm
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Ooooh. I wonder what Hilda is about to see.

I am *so* pleased at the way she dealt with the ghost of Punctuation Past. He indeed needed to be bundled back into his box, where he had come from. Regardless of how well she had learned, the atmosphere was not good for learning in, and they would have pupils taken away from them if they were to try it.

But how disconcerting for hilda to be talking to herself - to what appears to be a reflection of herself, and to have that being, that ghost, understand exactly what she is thinking the moment she thinks it.

Thanks once again Katya!

#14: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 1:54 pm
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Meeeep! I hope I don't get a visitation from those ghosts

*wibbles*

Thanks, Katya Very Happy

#15: Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 2:02 pm
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Katya, somehow I missed your first post, so have just read both these two at once - and it's just as well I am alone in the house, because I'm giggling madly at the second one in particular! THe combination of the single raised eyebrow (which a friend of mine uses to good effect and reduces me to giggles on a regular basis) and the Cheshire Cat image, quite apart from the idea of Hilda's mirror image talking back to her is a real tonic on a cold Monday morning!

As for the Ghost of Punctuation Past - how much terror he must have inflicted on generations of young pupils such as Hilda. But despite all, her attention to all things grammatical, instilled at such a young age, (what was it the Jesuits say about instilling faith into a child before the age of 7?) has clearly stood her in good stead all her life, hence her despair at the antics of this year's Lower IV.

Thanks for this, Katya, and thank you, too, Mary, for encouraging her to post it for our delectation - I shall be looking out eagerly for the next instalment.

#16: Author: Ruth B, Location: Oxford, UK

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 2:16 pm
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This is great Katya, although the talking mirror means I now have a rather disturbing vision as Miss A dressed as Mary Poppins!! Rolling Eyes

#17: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 4:26 pm
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Katya wrote:

Perhaps she should start looking round for a blunt instrument. The mirror was only made of glass, after all.

Hilda!! Hilda!! Tut, tut! Not your style at all, my dear! Laughing

Oh, I can feel for her over the Ghost of Punctuation Past - it brought all too vividly to mind my last teacher in primary school who could have been the model for this ghost. Crying or Very sad

How I wish I could have vanquished him as Hilda did!

But this Ghost of Christmas Present is making it all seem rather surreal to Hilda, isn't it - and she must be shaking in her shoes at the thought of what she will see....

Sorry, Katya, getting carried away!

#18: Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 5:50 pm
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This is wonderful!

Can we have some more please?

#19: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 9:31 pm
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Well done Hilda, vanquishing childhood demons is not easy - love the talking mirror. Laughing

#20: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 10:48 pm
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Brilliant Katya! The mirror is inspired...surreal, and a little scary too. Loved the reference to a blunt instrument and the reflection's hurried response!

But good to see Punctuation Past bundled back from whence he came!

Edited to improve grammar..... Wink

#21: Author: Katya, Location: Mostly Bradford

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 5:51 pm
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The reflection in the mirror faded and in its place an image formed of the Lower IV form room. Two girls, whom Hilda recognized as Mary and Susan, current members of Lower IV and both recipients of returned work earlier in the day, were standing by their desks, exercise books in their hands.

“If we do it straight away, we’ll still have plenty of time to go through our lines for the play later,” said Mary.

“I’d rather not have to do it at all,” grumbled Susan, “but at least it’s for the Abbess. If it had been one or two of the others, I’d have thought they were just trying to spoil our rehearsal time, but she never returns work unnecessarily, and I know I made a complete hash of the conclusion to that piece. I read it through again after she’d returned it and even I couldn’t work out what I meant!”

Mary chuckled at her friend, and the two of them sat down at their desks and bent their heads to their work. As the picture faded, the only sounds to be heard were the scratching of their pens and the occasional sigh of concentration.

Hilda’s own reflection came into view again and she fixed it with a penetrating stare.

“So you think I’m not too harsh on them?”

But answer came there none. Her reflection had asked exactly the same question. She cocked her head on one side; so did the face in the mirror. Whatever might have been there before, it was gone now.

Hilda crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. She was not at all sure she understood what was going on, but one thing was certain: if she was playing Scrooge, then there was more to come. Her initial terror at the moving typewriter, the letter, the appearance of Mr. Pike, had been pushed aside by the absurdity of the second ghostly encounter, but was now returning as her apprehension grew. Was there any way to avoid what she feared would come next? She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned back against the wall, wondering how long she would have to wait for events to unfold. The thought had no sooner crystallized in her brain, than a faint mist began to creep under the door, settling in a thick layer on the floor and chilling the atmosphere. Hilda shivered. She hugged her knees closer to her and looked on with mounting trepidation. Even as she watched, the mist began to rise up, forming itself into the eerie shape of a giant, ghostly question mark.

Hilda swallowed nervously and dug her fingertips into her calves, willing herself not to flinch.

“You must be the Ghost of Punctuation Yet To Come.” She tried not to let her voice waver.

“I am.” She felt, rather than heard, the words, but there was no mistaking that they had originated from the misty shape in front of her.

“And what have you to show me?”

“Come.”

The command could not be ignored. Hilda uncurled herself and slipped from the safety of the bed, her reluctance somehow overcome by the imperative to follow where the mist led. The door opened and, as Hilda stepped slowly through, she found herself not in the familiar corridor but in a desolate, deserted place, where the mist she was following blended with centuries of other mist, a thousand more question marks in every direction. She moved forward, looking about her, and all manner of familiar yet strangely out-of-place shapes began to emerge from the swirling mists. Here were stones: tombstones, but bearing no names. Some were inscribed with long and complex sentences; others bore nothing more than a single word or punctuation mark. Around the tombstones, other long sentences, their forms oddly beautiful to behold, lay quivering on the ground, exclamation marks and apostrophes swarming around them menacingly. Now and then they landed on a sentence and engulfed it, robbing it of all its beauty and leaving behind only ugly words as they moved on. Off to one side, Hilda saw a group of verbs hemmed in by a fence of adverbs, forever separated from the flocks of ‘to’s which floated around aimlessly, tangling in her hair and getting under her feet. Leafless trees loomed out of the mist. The branches of one were hung with an enormous web, the remains of words trapped in its sinister threads.

“What is this place?” she breathed. The words flew from her mouth and hovered in the air in front of her eyes, beautiful, exotic butterflies in this dying world. But no sooner had Hilda gasped at their grace than they seemed to lose their energy. They hung in the air a moment longer then withered and fell, scattering the ground like autumn leaves.

“This is the Graveyard of Language.”

#22: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 6:26 pm
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Katya wrote:

The words flew from her mouth and hovered in the air in front of her eyes, beautiful, exotic butterflies in this dying world.

How can something so beautiful be so menacing? Shocked

Your power over words is stunning here, Katya - much like Hilda's. Laughing

I can SEE those tombstones, and the sentences writhing in agony.

The Graveyard of Language? Shocked

Oh dear, oh dear! Crying or Very sad

#23: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 6:27 pm
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The graveyard description is fantastic!

Thanks, Katya

#24: Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 7:41 pm
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Loved Mary and Susan's assessment that Hilda was justified in returning their work to them, just because she *was* the Abbess, and was not simply looking for a way of making them miss their rehearsal time.

The Graveyard of Language is all it should be - beautiful, scary, foreboding, fantastic and so much more! The grammar checkers on everybody's computers should be shivering in their shoes at the thought of contributing to it!

But those butterflies are so beautiful, even if they, too, disappear into the mists!

Thanks, Katya - this is a really powerful piece of writing, and the strength of your word pictures transports us right into the story.

#25: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 8:49 pm
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Fascinatingly weird. Very Happy

*weeps for the poor split infinitives*

Thank you, Katya.

#26: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 8:55 pm
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And it's happening all the time!

Terrible future if English teachers don't teach. Crying or Very sad

Thanks Katya.

#27: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 11:29 pm
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And of course, Hilda, the teacher who is not harsh or unfair but rigorous is in the vanguard of the battle to stop the language reaching the graveyard!

Your description of the battered and dying words is wonderful, Katya. Really unusual and striking.

#28: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 1:25 am
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Oh, that's haunting, Katya - and very sad. All those split infinitives, 'lost, stolen and stray'd'....and the menacing apostrophes!

#29: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 11:42 am
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I loved the end of punctuation present. And the girls admitting that Hilda wasn't doing it just to be mean, she actually had a point in what she said - however much it irritated them to have to do the work again.

And a graveyard... What a mixture of beauty and, well, terror. How Hilda must feel looking at it.

Thanks Katya - looking forwards to seeing what the next thing is.

#30: Author: Katya, Location: Mostly Bradford

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 1:48 pm
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Unwilling to condemn any more words to the fate of those she had already uttered, Hilda made no reply, but carried on moving forward, still pulled by that unseen force. Every step seemed painful as she thought of the words being trampled underfoot.

“There.”

The mist appeared to gesture to a stark tombstone she was nearing, and Hilda shuddered. Only one thing could come. She approached the grave, which was still open, as she had known it would be.

“her lies hilda anersly,” she read aloud, not caring whether these words lived or died. The force was getting stronger; it pulled her inexorably towards the gaping darkness. She clung to her thoughts, steadying herself with knowledge.

“I know I must die. We all must. But why do I lie here?” Desperation edged her voice as she tried to avoid seeing her dying words tumbling into the grave.

“In the future, you will be gone. What you teach will be gone. Teachers themselves will not know, so there will be no-one to pass on your knowledge. No-one will understand punctuation; the rules of language will be a mystery. One day there will be no language – full stop.”

“No!” cried Hilda. “That’s impossible! People will always need to talk to each other, to write to each other – even to talk and write to themselves. Language can’t die! It will go on forever. It might change, but it can’t disappear altogether – people simply aren’t like that!”

She spun round in agitation, vainly trying to see who was talking to her. The pull from the grave suddenly became overwhelmingly strong. She staggered backwards and plummeted down into the blackness, turning round and round and screaming as she fell, the cold emptiness extending to infinity all around her...

“Hilda!”

A familiar voice resonated around the void, drowning even her own screams.

“Hilda! Wake up!”

She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at Nell, who was standing over her, a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you all right? You were screaming so loudly I thought something awful must have happened!”

“Just a nightmare.” Hilda struggled to control her breathing and her hand closed around Nell’s. “Where am I?”

“In bed. It’s all right – you’re safe. That must have been some dream. You’re shaking like a leaf!”

Hilda gave a wry grin. “It’s certainly one I hope won’t recur any time soon! But I’m fine, really. It must be near time I was getting up anyway.”

“Half past six,” replied Nell, looking much less troubled now she knew Hilda was not in danger. “I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. Don’t do that to me again in a hurry, please!” And with a smile, she was gone.

Hilda looked round the room, her gaze hovering on the mirror for a few moments. What had happened last night? Just a nightmare, surely, as she had told Nell. And yet – were those droplets of mist condensing on the mirror? She pushed the thought from her mind, flung back the tangled bedclothes and forced herself to her feet, though it felt like she hadn’t slept for a month. She washed and dressed, then made her way to the study, where she busied herself with the never-ending pile of correspondence on her desk until the bell rang for Frühstück. As she made her way to the Speisesaal, she passed Mary of Lower IV coming out of the splasheries.

“Smashing!” Mary was saying over her shoulder to someone following her.

“Slang, Mary?” Hilda’s voice was full of steel as Mary looked at her in dismay.

“I’m sorry, Miss Annersley,” she said, penitently. “I’ll go and pay my fine in the box after Frühstück.”

“Oh, I think we can let you off just this once,” said the Headmistress with a twinkle. “After all, it’s nearly Christmas!” So saying, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Mary open-mouthed in shock. Susan emerged from the splasheries moments later to find her friend still rooted to the spot.

“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

#31: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 1:59 pm
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Laughing

Thanks Katya Very Happy

#32: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 2:04 pm
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Loved that last line, Katya - gave me a shivery chuckle! Laughing

Katya wrote:

“In the future, you will be gone. What you teach will be gone. Teachers themselves will not know, so there will be no-one to pass on your knowledge. No-one will understand punctuation; the rules of language will be a mystery. One day there will be no language – full stop.”

What a future that would be - no wonder Hilda cries out in despair. Thank goodness Nell was there to wake her up before she disappeared for ever in that grave. Shocked

Thank you so much for writing this, Katya, and giving us a salutary reminder that the future of Language is in our own hands. The power of your words and the extent of your originality are stunning. I shall long retain the image of that graveyard.

ETA But Hilda is quite right - language will evolve, MUST evolve, if it is to survive.

Last edited by MaryR on Fri Dec 08, 2006 1:40 pm; edited 1 time in total

#33: Author: Squirrel, Location: St-Andrews or Dunfermline

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 2:28 pm
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Oh Katya! Over the first half of that, I could have been in the middle of a horror story, you have the atmosphere just right. And poor Hilda, to see such writing on her tomb stone. No matter when she died, as she rightly ascertains, we all must, surely such appalling spelling and grammar would not be put on her tomb stone.

I was almost as relieved as Hilda when Nell interrupts the dream. And Nell must have got a scare, to tell Hilda not to do so to her again!

I love the way that Mary and Susan have the last words of all! And well done Hilda, being merciful, just because it is Christmas time. I wonder if letting the pupils off once in the weeks leading up to the end of term will become a tradition of the school?

Thanks Katya Very Happy

#34: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 4:09 pm
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That was a fantastic drabble, thanks Katya!

#35: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 4:26 pm
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Thanks, Katya. I'm glad Hilda has survived it in one piece, but it is true that the standard of English is declining because it's not taught properly in schools.

#36: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 9:43 pm
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Thanks, Katya Very Happy

#37: Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 9:59 pm
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Thanks, Katya - I've really enjoyed this and it is, as Mary says, a salutary reminder that the fate of Language really does lie in our own hands. Spelling and grammar checks are all very well in their way, but in the last resort, it's human checking which is the only way to ensure that what we write is what we mean to say, correctly expressed. (And please don't any of you attempt to parse that particular sentence - I suspect it would defy the exercise!)

Seriously, this was a lovely 'take' on a serious subject, made more enjoyable by your own vivid command of language.

#38: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 12:35 am
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Ah, that was splendid, and very thought-provoking. The open grave scene was extremely creepy, and thank goodness Nell was there to reassure her.

All those poor words and articles of punctuation... Crying or Very sad

I spent the first part of yesterday evening at the Junior School Award Ceremony, and diverted myself from the extremely uncomfortable nature of the chairs by correcting the grammar of the Principal's Address..... enough said!

#39: Author: Miranda, Location: Perth, Western Australia

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 1:47 pm
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The imagery in that was very very striking. I'm going to have to be careful how I use language now Smile

Otherwise I'll feel terribly guilty.

Thank you Katya

#40: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 11:13 pm
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Thanks Katya - excellent imagery.

#41: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 11:50 pm
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That was truly excellent, Katya, all the characterisation was spot on, and the graveyard of language was brilliant.

Thank you so much for posting it - it will stay with me for a long time.

#42: Author: calico, Location: Wellington, New Zealand

Posted: Sun Dec 10, 2006 3:11 am
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Awesome!
Very cleverly written.
Thanks Katya

#43: Author: Woofter,

Posted: Thu Jan 04, 2007 10:34 am
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Fantastic, and very thought provoking. The graveyard was wonderful a mixture of terror and beauty. Thank you Katya.

#44: Author: Alex, Location: Cambs, UK

Posted: Sun Jan 07, 2007 11:26 pm
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On Christmas Day I received the following text message:
Merry xmas 2 all fings nd ppl korf! Hope ur avin a bare sick day nd ave even more sick nd drunkard newyrs! Loads nd loadsa luv [name] p.s dis is my ova num.

I don't know whether I'm more confused by that or my lecturer's use of " its' " (extra spaces in there so that you get the full effect of the apostrophe).

Yes, language should evolve, but only up to a point Wink

The CBB -> St Scholastika's House

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