Simon Blackmoore
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What Silence Does to You
Set: Yorkshire, EnglandDate: October 10, 2021.
POV: Simon Blackmoore
Why are we still in England? thought Simon, despair leeching away at any indifference he might have conjured for this unfortunate situation. Unfortunate was the word the lawyers used, but A Situation of the Vilest Familial Honor Desecration was his phrase of choice. Was that right? He tapped his pencil on the notepad irritably, scribbling over old poetry and favourite descriptions of divorce that he entertained his siblings with. This one hit the nail on the head. Together, the six children tried valiantly to think of the entire situation as a joke or an adventure. Little Artemis understood divorce least of all of them, but she understood better than most nine year olds ever could. She still cried frequently and held onto their eldest brother Gregory, and it broke their hearts to see her pixie face crumple like a squashed tomato and sob messily into his shirt. It was no wonder that she chose to cry on to Greg, for he was the sweetest and mildest of them all and she was the loudest and most boisterous. They seemed to compliment each other. If she hadnt been crying on him then shed have been crying on Father; but even Art could see there was no point doing that when Father cried on the lawyers.
Simon smirked at that image, but it was a sad to think that it wasnt too far from the truth. Hed not seen any of the tears that Father had shed, but he had certainly noticed the decline in intellectual conversation from the usually jolly but clinical doctor. Even worse was the time when Father had moved through the living room and into the kitchen, leaving a very shaken Dierdre with a tear stained patch on her shoulder. Every son and daughter had stared at their fathers walk of shame and blushed when Artemis exclaimed 'Lordy, Diers! Hes used yer blouse as a hand-ker-chief!'. Bess and Connie had bundled Art into their arms and carted her off to play dress ups, while Simon held Dierdre as she cried onto his shirt. Their parents divorce was becoming quite messy. His only consolation was the hope that he could perturb them with laundry bills.
Simon almost leaped out of his skin when a crash from below made the floor tremor. He leant forward and buried his head into his folded arms, spreading shavings of graphite onto his face. Either their mother had broken another plate whilst doing a very vigorous and unnecessary washing-up, or Artemis was throwing a tantrum and theyd all better get down there quick before the kitchen was destroyed. A second crash followed the first and Simon dragged himself out of his padded leather chair and slouched downstairs to survey the damage. He was overtaken by the frantic twins as they bumped and bustled each other down the stairs to reach the scene of devastation and subdue their no-doubt irate little sister. Simon was in less of a hurry, knowing that Gregory was the strongest of them all and could handle Artemis better than the rest.
Ill not go to New Zealand! he heard Art bellow, followed by the sound of splintering wood. I wont! Stupid place, full of sheep! Ye think its a replacement fer England, but it aint and I shant go!. Simon distinctly heard the found of flesh on flesh and a small oomph from Gregory, and he rolled up his sleeves and entered the fray.
Gerroff, ya bastard!
Artemis, lovely, calm dow- ouch!
Stinky old New Zealand!
Maybe shell respond to pepper spray...
Connie!
Its just a suggestion,
Cmon, think ye can take me? Have at thee!
Art ye mad hatter, stop!
Simon parted the tide with his forearms and reached Artemis in record time. Everyone except for Art fell silent with relief, and Simon swooped in and picked up his furiously air-battling sister by the waist and began the long journey up the stairs. Every so often he would pause to rearrange his sister, who would squirm in and out of his grip and pummel whatever she could reached with two bony fists. Five minutes later they collapsed on Simons bed, his strong arms still pinning his sister but soon realising that it was no longer necessary. Artemis had begun to cry, and her tiny arms around his waist certainly made up for his black eye.
Its not fair, she sobbed. Simon swallowed and clenched his eyes shut to force his own tears away.
How can ye love someone fer thirty years, th-then just buggerin decide t-t-to cart yer- her breath hitched and she gave a great snuffle. -cart yer kids to the other side o the world cause ye dont like the omelettes she makes anymore or summat?
Oh, Art. mumbled Simon into her tangled brown hair. There was a shuffle at the doorway, and Simon looked up to see his other four siblings slumped lankly against the door frame; Bess and Connie with identical looks of desolation, Gregory and Deirdre with restrained anguished. Simultaneously they moved in with some sitting on the floor and some on his bed, to hold each other as the outpouring of grief had the tears falling all at once. Even Gregory was sobbing, holding on to whatever sister was in reach and keeping them close. No one moved away.
Eventually a miserable silence filled the room sluggishly, broken only by Arts whimpers from where she was now buried in the crook of Gregs arm. Her tear stained face unashamedly revealed itself, and she looked up at her brother with those enormous hazel eyes.
Ill never see ye again, will I?
The silence continued unbroken, and Simon dropped his head onto Dierdre's shoulder. No one had anything to say.
END
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Feel free to comment below.
Thank you. I've never thought of writing as a career, I'm too nervous 
