Watercolour Vignettes

• Cassandra M, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2014

Elizabeth once owned that little lamb, and John once sat upon that wall.

Upon a white page lies a watercolour vignette that illustrates Elizabeth skipping mirthfully down a quaint laneway, accompanied by a lamb and a large but simplistic slab of black text. The lambs beams up at her with cute, bulbous eyes. The lamb’s characteristics are an unrealistic and poor attempt at making Elizabeth feel welcome within the nursery rhyme's first draft. As she trails jovially down the cobblestone path lined with flimsy picket fences and vibrant clusters of lavender, she spots a small boy perched on top of a terracotta wall on the next page, beyond the splotchy hills that have been painted by the book’s illustrator in watery flurries of turquoise and emerald. They resemble abstract conjurations of a French landscape.

Elizabeth pauses thoughtfully, then proceeds to step across the book’s crease and onto the boy’s page lined with the foreboding words: ‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put John back together again.’ The boy’s page is a little windier than her own and it appears as though storm clouds loom over its horizon. She glances back at her sun-drenched realm then regretfully reverts back to the boy.

‘Hello,’ she pipes. The boy stares down at Elizabeth.
‘You’re the girl from the other page’ he answers.
‘Yes, I am. I’d like to know what you’re doing on that wall. You might fall if you’re not careful.’
‘That’s the point. I’m supposed to sit upon the wall and fall. That’s what the author wants. Why do you have that lamb?’
‘Because I am supposed to have a little lamb. Whose fleece is white as snow.’
‘No you’re not. I am,’ a shrill voice calls from beyond the wall.

A small girl in a periwinkle smock appears. The illustrator’s brushstrokes are inevitably more detailed on the girl. A large man appears from beyond the wall. He yanks on the edges of his cardinal coat in fury, eying John in offense.
‘Young man! That is my wall you are sitting upon!’
‘No it’s not. The author says I fall of this wall,’ John replies sheepishly.
‘The author has changed his mind. He has ordered I, Sir Humphrey, to scale the wall instead.’
‘And he wants me to have that lamb,’ the girl adds.
‘Now boy, move aside so the illustrator can place me atop that wall, there!’


Elizabeth and John stare at each other.
‘Does that mean we’re not wanted?’
‘Not on pages seven and eight, no,’ Sir Humphrey huffs. ‘Try another page, children.’

John climbs down the wall with terminal slowness. ‘But this is my home,’ he cries.
Sir Humphrey casts him a look of disdain and proceeds to climb the wall. Mary treks off to Elizabeth’s former vignette with the lamb close by her side.
‘Where do we go?’

A small silence welcomes John’s extended hand, painted with vibrant shades of peach and cream. Elizabeth grasps it.
‘It’s okay, Elizabeth. We’ll just find another page.’