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Whispers of the Wheat

Stems of the wheat scratch and tickle my back as I lie upon them, weighing down their efforts to stand up tall. My eyes are dragged by clouds across the patchy blue sky, lulling me to sleep. Fighting myself awake, I notice one that is beautifully rotund. A weak smile manages to appear as I’m reminded of ice creams I’ve enjoyed, beach balls I’ve frolicked with, and hedgehogs I’ve caught curled up. The smile fades as the cloud slowly tears apart, making way for another to barge through. I grimace at the thought of such bullies; either pushing my friends and I apart in the halls, or savages fuelled by nothing but money, tearing through forests, refusing to care.

I let my head roll to one side, and my arms fall with a crunch on the wheat. Pushing the awful thoughts out of my peaceful moment, I focus on an ant curiously navigating what is a tiny patch of grass to me, but a forest to them. I relax my muscles as I often would after picking up my son just a bit too heartily. When I ache, I lay as I am now, and imagine the pain fading away. (Funny thing is, it often works.)

I could use some of that magic right now.

The wind rustles the wheat and the trees, like a gentle whisper rolling over the land, burying me in the field. I can hear crows squawking as they fly circles above me. A single magpie joins them, and the start of a folk rhyme echoes in my ears.

‘one for sorrow’

I clench my jaw and squeeze shut my eyes, pushing away the awful thoughts forcing themselves to the front of my mind. Mustering the last strength I have, I lift up my head, and the tears accumulated in my eyes begin to poor down my face. Letting my head fall back in defeat, a small, fearful cry escapes me. My world becomes more distant, and I am plagued by darkness. The image of the crimson blood pouring out of me was enough to ruin any peaceful thoughts I tried to hold on to.

~Harriet Sophia Drury

The story my blog is named after. It was a piece of flash fiction written in 2020 for a competition. I did not win.

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Ballet Review

A review of BRB2: Carlos Acosta’s Classical Selection at the Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury, Kent, UK- 7:30PM, Wednesday 29th May 2024.

Birminghams young ballet dancers took to the stage twice today to bring Carlos Acosta’s Classical Selection to the Marlow stage. The show was a blend of classical ballet with contemporary influences. It mainly consisted of a series of duets, with some group performances. There was live music playing also, a great addition to really bring the life into the room.

The classical ballet was elegant, polished, and touching. Along with some brilliant pieces of classical music, the dancers had me captivated, and I hardly thought ten minutes had passed by the time the interval arrived. However, the second half did not get off to as good of a start as the first. Male dancers rolled around on the floor, pairs got very close to one another while moving about in an odd and uncouth way. One couple even seemed to be dressed with the pattern of a manhole cover. It was a drastic difference to the class I had just witnessed, and I must say it was not too welcomed by me. Their skill was still striking, their ability incredible, and their strength awesome. However, the acts felt a little too contemporary, a little too removed from ballet, a little too out of my enjoyment zone. I did admire the blend of old and new, however, as progression is no bad thing. It’s just important to know when you’re regressing too!

The final performance was the icing on the cake, with four duos dressed in historical Spanish inspired costumes dancing to wonderful and dramatic music. They took this opportunity to show off their abilities, prancing around the stage and spinning until I even got dizzy. The finale felt like a finale, and caused the hairs on my arms to stand with the emotions they roused. They ended as they started, stood around the ballet bars with their coats and bags, as if it was just another rehearsal. Once the curtain dropped and came back up, they came back on stage for their bow and their well deserved applause.

The theatre was clean, fully booked but not busy, and had friendly and competent staff. I had a better experience than I have had in London’s Chelsea. The show was an incredible one, one I recommend. Just don’t be taken off guard by the inclusion of contemporary dance styles!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

~ Harriet Sophia Drury

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I took myself to the ballet today.

BRB2: Carlos Acosta’s Classical Selection at the Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury, Kent, UK- 7:30PM, Wednesday 29th May 2024.

I had never gone to an event by myself before. A couple of years ago I had such bad anxiety I couldn’t even go to sleep by myself, let alone attend a ballet in my university town by myself to then go home to the student house that I live in. On the phone to my mother on the way there, she reminded me of a task my therapist set me during the period of my bad anxiety. It was to do this very thing; to do something by myself that I want to do and that feels outside my comfort zone. Another therapist told me I was intolerant to uncertainty. I think I made them both proud today. I made myself proud too. I enjoyed the show, and not having to discuss it at the interval, or wait around for someone to go to the toilet. I enjoyed not worrying about what anyone thought of me this evening because they likely thought nothing, and if they did they have probably already forgotten it. I enjoyed doing something I wanted to do the way I wanted to do it.

Lots of people asked me of my plans for this week, and when I told them I had a ballet show booked, they asked the inevitable: “who are you going with?”. Each time I hesitated, quickly worrying about what was the right thing to say, what was the truth, what lie would be found out too easily. Each time I settled on the truth, proudly exclaiming I was taking myself. While they first seemed upset for me, once I had established my happiness for taking myself, they seemed to be on board and tell me what a good thing it was to do. I still felt a little apprehensive though.

The day came and I made sure to be ready on time. But what would on time be? It said the show starts at 7:30, but how much time should I be early? I fretted and calculated, counting back in lots of 5 minutes, deducting the time of my walk and settling on getting there about 15 minutes early. This proved to be the perfect amount of time.

The next terrifying ordeal was finding my seat. What would people think when they see me sitting alone? How am I going to squeeze past people to get to my seat without someone to say “excuse me” on the behalf of us both? It turns out it was all very simple, and I made it to my seat, only having to awkwardly stand up and allow people themselves to squeeze through twice (although I did spill water all down my sleeve in this process). My seat was found, I was firmly sat down, and the lights began to dim.

The performance was breath taking. Gorgeous dancers in stunning costumes floated around the stage, showing off the expertise and honed bodies. The music accompanied it and rattled through my feet and up into my body. The show was a spectacle I was so glad I went to see. Theatres are a struggle for me at the best of times, and I managed to enjoy myself all alone.

So do the things you want to, forget what is holding you back. And if you’re in a place that means this isn’t possible, have hope- I have been through those trenches and I’m out the other side. You will be here with me soon.

~Harriet Sophia Drury