By Nicholas Hooper

From behind a bush a small person is peeking. It’s a game and he is hiding and looking out to see if he’s been spotted. His hiding place is good – the bush is thick but provides a small area where it’s less dense at just the right height for this little boy and he can see his family searching back and forth and gently calling his name. He stands so still and quiet, quiet as a mouse, and they can’t find him. It feels like a long time to him – hiding and keeping still – but he’s so caught up in the game and so pleased with himself that he makes no noise. After a while his family move further and further away from him and the garden becomes silent. The silence begins to feel threatening and he shifts uneasily. ‘What if they never come back?’ he thinks. He peeks and peeks but there is no one to peek at. He feels the tears begin to come and a thickening in his throat. What was once a fun game that he was winning has turned into a nightmare. He feels frozen to the spot but then a small voice inside his head says, ‘go and find them.’ but he’s upset because he thinks they’ve given up and they don’t care about him. Then he sees his father’s back appear close to his bush and hears worry in his father’s voice as he calls his name and like a spring has been released he rushes out of his hiding place and hugs his dad round the knees and cries, ‘daddy! I found you!’



About Dawnings:
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”

— Nick Hooper