Marianna & The Vote by AJ

It was damp dark. An unidentified liquid tinted green with an odour akin to festering sheep giblets. Marianna shuddered to think what the foul liquid was. And indeed she did. She shivered madly, constantly, goosebumps covered her skin. Marianna had ceased to feel cold like she had ceased to feel the pain. There was simply too much for anyone’s system to contain.

The four walls of the box shifting, folding in on themselves like layers of reality. No Air, no food, no water. No matter, Marianna was accustomed to the suffering now. Was she? No, but she had to be. The cause, The vote, equality and freedom depended on her success. Marianna’s determination, perseverance, bravery and sacrifice could not waver. That’s why it was imperative for her to prevail, that’s why they needed to hear.

She was positive that she was the most important parcel in the mail wagon. Possibly, the most important parcel since the dawn of the postman. Although, some little part of her consciousness, probably the sensible part didn’t know whether this was a great idea. She was a suffragette but she was also only fifteen. And fifteen year olds generally don’t post themselves to the governor demanding votes for women never in fact, Marianna Bradford would be the first. And that honour Marianna wasn’t sure she wanted bestowed upon her.

She closed her eyes and drifted into the bliss of sleep. She dreamed of climbing the old fig tree eating contraband sweets. Wrestling with neighborhood boys  and winning. Ma sitting and weaving on her loom under the macadamia while her legs hung over one of the branches as she ate the sweet nuts. Next was Marianna dropping out of school. The depression had taken its toll and Ma’s weaving couldn’t support them both. Especially with Ma’s health like this.

Her first job a seamstress in a tailoring shop. Hard, sweaty, painful work. Twelve hours a day for four shillings a week. Less experienced men and boys were paid eight shillings for similar work. Broken thread, talking, singing, lateness and spending to long in the lavatory were all a reason for cuts to pay checks.

Then she dreamed of the day she stood up and told her boss she wouldn’t be coming back and her doubts in her decision. Sewing her first sash and attending her first rally. These bittersweet memories swirled in her subconscious.

Marianna woke up dazed and confused in this foul prison of a cardboard box. This is what prisoners in hulks must have felt like, contemplated Marianna.

Dirty ,starved, and so cold, the dirt froze and stuck to the criminals like a fitted sheet or your bloomers after a dip in the bath house. But she possessed something they did not, hope. Marianna felt like Pandora holding the empty jar cradling hope. The cart stopped. The last stop. The struggle was over now, she just had to show the governor the truth. And as Marianna stepped on to the sandstone bricks she knew in her heart she would succeed.