Kit Berry - Magus of Stonewylde

S lowly, silently, the moon rose over the tower blocks. Patterned with bright squares of light, the great steel and concrete structures thrust up into the city sky like modern megaliths. Inside these teeming hives of activity, people sat mesmerised before flickering screens, busying themselves with electronic devices and gadgets .

The rising of the full moon in the night sky passed unnoticed, except by one girl. Trapped up high in her block, she stood at the window and cried for release. Like a delicate moth, she beat against the cold glass of her cell again and again, desperate for escape. As the moon grew smaller overhead, the wildness in her heart slowly withered and died .

Silent and still at last, she gazed out into the night. No stars were visible; in the city they were outshone by artificial light. Her eyes scanned the skies hoping for one bright jewel of starlight, but found only the winking of satellites and aeroplanes. She looked down. On the swarming streets far below, long white and red snakes of car lights crawled home. The slick pavements reflected a kaleidoscope of yellow, blue and green neon light; the air was heavy with relentless, droning noise. She turned from the bright window in despair, as another month of her life seeped away .

An owl hooted long and low from the dark woods. The boy climbed the hill to the standing stone at its summit, his boots glittering with frost and his breath in icy clouds about him. He hunkered down, his back against the tall monolith, and looked out towards the distant sea. The silver moon danced over the landscape and glinted in the boys eyes. He gazed up at the dusty white rainbow arched across the black velvet sky; millions upon millions of sparkling stars, bright diamonds flung over the cloak of night .

He sensed the movement of hares further down the hill. Creatures of the full moon, they gathered at this special stone every month and seemed to welcome his silent presence. He took a shuddering breath and touched his cheek. The cut had begun to heal, closing over into a thin scar that would mark him for life. The boy shut his eyes and hugged his knees, shivering and alone in the moonlight. Up here, by the stone on the hill, no one could touch him. Up here no one could hear him cry .

S ylvie gazed through the barred window at the white bird of prey circling high overhead. Round and round it flew, just clearing the grimy tower blocks as it marked its territory, waiting for the moment when she became too weak to struggle. Would it then swoop low and carry her away into the dirty sky, a streak of vapour trail proclaiming its kill? She swallowed, her throat parched, and reached towards the water jug. But the coils of tubes prevented her movement. Snaking around her thin arm, they held her fast to a machine that beeped and flashed. Reality flickered in and out of focus. She closed her eyes; everything was just too much effort, even a sip of water.

Sylvie groaned as the pack of white coats approached her bed and surrounded her. A circle of curious faces snouts, open mouths, bright eyes watched hungrily as she lay defenceless among them. The alpha male frowned from beneath tufted eyebrows. He scanned her with a practised eye as he picked up her notes. Sylvies hunted gaze sought out the one kindly face in the group: a young intern whod befriended her in this terrifying labyrinth of wards, disinfectant and needles. Hazel, fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, gave Sylvie a quick smile.

Comments? barked the consultant.

Shes responding quite well to hospitalisation, sir. Shes put on some weight.

Theres evidence of intolerance to wheat and dairy foods; hence the eczema.

But it hasnt even started to clear, despite the diet. And shes under-developed for her age. Shes what fourteen coming up to fifteen? I think

Those whove read the case notes, growled the leader, will know her mother was concerned about possible anorexia. Shes failing to thrive, though this could be due to acute food intolerances rather than an eating disorder. Whatever the cause, shes clearly wasted away quite dramatically.

What about ME, sir? It would account for the listlessness and inability to engage with any stimulus.

Mmn, possible but not conclusive. The blood tests show no viral anomalies although she does react to all the usual allergens house dust, pollen, exhaust particles, propellants. Weve now concluded our battery of tests and theres little more we can do for her at the moment.

Its as if shes given up on life.

All eyes turned to Hazel.

Thats your professional diagnosis, Doctor?

No, but without the will to thrive, the body starts to shut down. It seems to me that Sylvies rejected everything around her. She cant cope with the stresses of city life and now shes become allergic to everything, even the air she breathes.

The consultant wrinkled his nose at this. He picked up one of Sylvies wrists and felt her pulse, ignoring the tubes and bruising.

So you propose the symptoms are purely psychosomatic? The self-inflicted result of a refusal to engage with life?

Hazel shot Sylvie a glance of apology.

No, not self-inflicted exactly. Rather a physical rejection of the twenty-first century and the artificial and unnatural environment weve created. Sylvies body cant deal with it any longer.

What a fascinating theory. But in the meantime, medication will continue and her diet will be strictly controlled. Well discharge her at the end of the week and see what happens. An interesting case, Im sure youll all agree, but we need the bed.

Later Hazel came back alone and sat down, taking Sylvies hand.

Im sorry, Sylvie, discussing you this morning as if you werent there. How are you feeling now?

Sylvie shrugged. Her ravaged face and pale hair against the pillowcase gave her a look of transparency, as if she were slowly dissolving into nothing. Hazel tried not to stare at the strange girl whod fascinated her since her admission to hospital a couple of weeks ago. She knew that Sylvie had been ill for some time, and that her mother was frantic and the doctors baffled. What had started as headaches, stomach pains and depression had, over the months, developed into blinding migraines, acute vomiting and chronic tiredness. The food intolerances had become so severe that Sylvie now found it impossible to keep anything down. She was pathetically thin and fragile, her skin sore and cracked with eczema. Her allergies had reached the point where she could often barely breathe, and these frightening symptoms were exacerbated by the constant scans, blood tests and prescribed medication. Hazel knew that Sylvie was only being discharged for expediency, not because shed been cured or even properly diagnosed.

I meant what I said, Sylvie, though the other doctors didnt understand. Youve rejected this world, havent you?

Sylvies unusual silver-grey eyes met Hazels kind ones. She knew that Hazel was almost fully qualified now and would make a compassionate doctor.

I expect youre right, she croaked.