Алия Уайтли: The Loosening Skin

‘The scrapbook? I don’t know. Maybe my dad took it after granddad died. He never mentioned it.’

‘You’ve never talked about it with him?’

Dan shakes his head. ‘Not with anyone. Not even the others. Howard, Mik, Liz. I could never get over how there was nothing but good feelings in those skins, even though those people died in fear, in pain. Why the hell doesn’t that last? I couldn’t explain it to myself, so how could I explain it to them?’

Liam is frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be judgemental in nature. ‘It’s not your job to explain it. It’s not even your secret to keep. You didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘No, that’s true.’ A short explanation of something from so long ago, and a few words, and there’s a new lightness in his chest. There has been no judgement, no verdict passed. He pulls Liam to his feet and leads him upstairs, but not for the tension that has always existed between their bodies. Instead he fishes under the bed and pulls out the package that he stored there.

‘I thought you said you didn’t have it,’ says Liam.

‘No, look.’ He reveals the frame, the photograph, the swatch of skin. ‘I bought it. I don’t even understand why.’

‘I don’t wanna touch it,’ Liam says. This has changed the mood. ‘You should throw it out.’

‘It’s a part of history, in a way.’

‘Not your history.’

‘But my grandad loved that music.’

Liam is tight-lipped, his body rigid as he sits upright on the end of the bed. ‘Not you. And not even your grandfather. It’s all the past, isn’t it?’

Dan imagines a scenario in which he, simply and cleanly, puts the frame on the floor and stamps it to pieces. Just like he did with Sunetra’s pot. But that act didn’t make him feel better. The harder you stamp, the more shards you create. The past is not so easy to destroy.

He slides the frame back into the envelope, and returns it under the bed. ‘I don’t know how to make sense of this yet, but it’s part of who I am,’ he says. ‘So I guess it stays, until I can.’

‘I don’t understand you, sometimes. You’re not some little boy any more. You don’t need to collect and hold these things for other people.’

‘I think you’re amazing,’ Dan says. ‘Thanks. For listening. For saying what you said. It’s made a big difference to me.’ The things that irritate him about Liam are the things that irritate him about himself: obstinacy, and cruelty, and sadness, and kindness. A mystery wrapped up in a skin.

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

‘It’s okay,’ Dan says, feeling safe. Feeling so tired of everything that tries to make sense of all that should be left unsolved. ‘It’s not your secret to keep.’

He gets up and leaves the room, leading Liam back downstairs to their drinks. The night won’t end up in this room. It’s not love. Not love for a person, or an idea, or a set of memories to keep. Not love, right now, at least. And that’s okay.

Thank you to Dan Coxon, Helen Marshall, Mark Morris, Nina Allan, the Talking Cat, and the MNWers.

George Sandison liked the first half of this story, but told me there was a second half that still needed to be written. Thanks for being right, and for publishing it once it was (eventually) finished.

And thank you, Nick, Elsa and Barney. I’ve got you all under my skin.

Aliya Whiteley is the author of the novels The Beauty , The Arrival of Missives , and Skein Island . She writes novels, short stories and non-fiction and has been published in places such as The Guardian , Interzone , McSweeney’s Internet Tendency , Black Static , and Strange Horizons , and anthologies such as Unsung Stories’ 2084 and Lonely Planet’s Better than Fiction I and II . She has been shortlisted for an Arthur C. Clarke Award, Shirley Jackson Award, British Fantasy and British Science Fiction awards, the John W. Campbell Award, and a James Tiptree Jr. Award. Her stories are unpredictable; they can be terrifying, tender, ferocious and deeply funny. She also writes a regular column for Interzone magazine. She blogs at: aliyawhiteley.wordpress.comand tweets most days as @AliyaWhiteley.

Somewhere away from the cities and towns, in the Valley of the Rocks, a society of men and boys gather around the fire each night to listen to their history recounted by Nate, the storyteller. Requested most often by the group is the tale of the death of all women. They are the last generation. One evening, Nate brings back new secrets from the woods; peculiar mushrooms are growing from the ground where the women’s bodies lie buried. These are the first signs of a strange and insidious presence unlike anything ever known before… Discover the Beauty.

“Elegantly chilling, utterly heart-breaking.”

“This book messed me up, in the best way possible.”

“A Story of cosmic fecundity and fungal weirdness that I couldn’t put down.”

Skein Island, since 1945 a private refuge for women, lies in turbulent waters twelve miles off the coast of Devon. Visitors are only allowed by invitation from the reclusive Lady Amelia Worthington. Women stay for one week, paying for their stay with a story from their past: a Declaration for the Island’s vast library.

Marianne’s invitation arrives shortly before her quiet life at the library is violently interrupted, the aftermath leaving her husband David feeling helpless. Now, just like her mother did seventeen years ago, she must discover what her story is. Secrets are buried deep on Skein Island. The monsters of Ancient Greece and the atrocities of World War II, heroes and villains with their seers and sidekicks, and the stories of a thousand lifetimes all threaten to break free.

But every story needs an ending, whatever the cost.

“I firmly believe that Aliya Whiteley is one of the most original, innovative and intelligent writers of speculative fiction working in Britain today.”

“Whiteley skilfully blends Greek myth with the horrors of the second world war and scalpel-sharp observations of contemporary society in a compelling, disturbing read that examines gender roles and the power of individuals to take control of their lives.”

“At its heart, Skein Island is a novel about storytelling, gender, and the tales we fall captive to or fool ourselves into believing. It’s about the power of the written word and, quite appropriately, Aliya Whiteley’s writing is spellbinding, blending reality and mythos together to create a world that is most terrifying when it reflects our deepest fears back at us.”

“A story that is steeped in mystery and mythology – a darkly disturbing and challenging read. Skein Island is savagely honest and sharply attuned to the perils and unspoken agony of our times. Whiteley writes like a force of nature and there is no stopping this coming storm!”

In the aftermath of the Great War, Shirley Fearn dreams of challenging the conventions of rural England, where life is as predictable as the changing of the seasons. The scarred veteran Mr. Tiller, left disfigured by an impossible accident on the battlefields of France, brings with him a message: part prophecy, part warning. Will it prevent her mastering her own destiny? As the village prepares for the annual May Day celebrations, where a new queen will be crowned and the future will be reborn again, Shirley must choose: change or renewal?