Hanging Hannah

The artwork below is by Hannah King, and it was used as part of a magazine project by Ciara Ip. I wrote this piece to go with it.

My name is Hannah and I like to run with no shoes or socks on. Wooden floors are hard but have no secrets; you know where you are with a wooden floor. Grass is a bit slimy and sometimes has worms in it. I don't like worms, or grass really. Grass is a carpet you can't trust. Carpets are the most fun. I can curl my toes around the fluffy spluffs and grip them tightly. I don't think you would be able to pick me up with my feet gripped like that. My Mammy would think I was very heavy if she tried. If people put carpets on the ceiling, they would have no problem walking upside down if they gripped it with their toes just like I do.

I woke up one morning all squirmy, squirmy. I had been dreaming about the seaside, or I might have been remembering a visit I made one time with my Mammy. There had been a park near the beach and I had spun on the merry-go-round and slid down the slide. I did those two activities over and over again until I was bored. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so there was nobody to play with. The other children seemed wrapped up in their own games - pretending to be pirates or parents or shop owners. I listened to their conversations, closing my eyes and playing out their stories in my head. Soon everybody started to leave as the sun was setting, but my Mammy was having a little snooze on the park bench... so I decided to run! I wasn't trying to get away from anywhere, neither was I trying to go somewhere, but I needed to do it! I sped off towards the promenade, the wind from the sea blasting against my face and my feet barely touching the ground. Down the steps I went, trampling over the pebbles and slowing down as I reached the sand. And there I collapsed and remained still, gazing at the sea which shimmered under the setting sun, until my Mammy's arms blinded me. And then I woke up.

Mammy always does everything the same. She puts me in my high chair and feeds me lots of mushy from a bowl. It is really tasty porridge, and I put the jam from the middle all over my lips to decorate them. Then she dresses me. It is a normal day in 1990, or around about, and little baby me is just jumping on the bed, happy as Larry, while my Mammy tidies up the house. She pulls her hair back tightly so she can see everything. But she doesn't have eyes on the back of her head. She can't see me bouncing and I am bouncing very high. The blankets feel good under my feet, but the air feels even better. I like jumping just as much as I like running. There is a rushy, gushy feeling of freedom and flying. But when you are flying, things can move underneath you when you aren't looking. Sometimes things can move when you are looking too of course. But I'm not looking, and the whole world is moving! The bed is far behind me and I am soaring. Flying is better than running, there is space everywhere, and the air takes hold of me like it does a lost feather. But then I am falling, and my belly does big flips and I grab the curtain. The curtain is surprised and grabs me back, but I am caught and hanging from the rope and I don't know how it happened. I want to cry but my mouth won't let me breathe. The rope is really hurting my neck and my toes are going tingly and just when I feel like I am about to go to sleep...

... my Mammy comes back and sees that I am not on the bed anymore.

"Hannah!" she screeches, with a voice I have never heard her use before. She yells and it sounds like she has thousands of tiny animals inside her all screaming and trying to get out. She grabs me around the waist and yanks the rope away and then I am free and she is hugging me very tightly. Holding me up to her face, she shudders like she is scared of me. I start crying and my Mammy cries with me. She cuddles me and I can smell her and my neck stops hurting. She strokes my hair and my face and tells me that I am very naughty.

But she doesn't know that I was bouncing. Cheeky.