Stevie hoped that no one would notice that she was the loner. It made it easier to live with the life that she had at home. Who knew, maybe one of her parents would wake up to themselves and just leave. She'd seen that on different television shows and hoped against hope that one of them would see the light. Looking back out the window, she wondered how she could escape. Just for one moment, or one day from the life that she knew she had waiting.
"Stevie?" her teacher questioned quietly. her eyes flicked quickly back to where the voice had come from and silently wished that the teacher wouldn't ask her a question that she really didn't know the answer to.
"Mmmm," she mumbled smiling just slightly and letting her eyes light up at the same time. That's when she saw it, the look the teachers always gave other students that were dealing with the most awful parts of their lives.
Part 3.
Her brother had been born quickly, not like a normal baby, in many hours and after much pain, but quickly and he had decided that he need to spend the rest of his life living just the same. His blue eyes rarely frowned and the way in which he saw the world had the ability to influence whoever was near. He was a sweet kid, which was a funny way of thinking about him, considering that he had been born 3 minutes before her. The other half of the soul that now possessed her body.
In primary school the two of them had been inseparable. The teachers felt as though they had, had to break them up in the classroom, thinking that this would ensure that she, the smarter of the two, had a better chance to be educated. John had started the tantrum and by the end of the 10 minute period neither had been moved, and neither was likely too either. Stevie liked that. He was her safe harbour, her anchor, her ability to breathe.
But that, like the happy family she had, had all passed. He was gone. Lost to the other world, and now she was alone. Alone with her thoughts, alone with her parents, alone..................and the world sure felt like an empty place without him.
She remembered the day the police had come to the door and the way the sun had shone off their brass buttons and straight into her eyes. They stood, like soliders on guard, still and resolute as they brought their news to the door.
"Mrs Thorn?" they queried, and her mother just nodded her head, looking around her and hoping that some one was going to tell her what was going on.
"We have some bad news...." the older one started. She saw her mother's lip tremble and the first of many tears start to roll down her face. She reached a now cold hand up to her pale face and felt it herself. The only tear she would shed for the one person who was her other self. She felt her mother reach for her other hand and squeeze and over the loud howl that had emitted from a throat, she missed what else was said.
John, she later found out, had decided that this life was not for him. That there was no need for him to remain in a place that had caused him such harm and so he had removed himself from it. Little did he know, that the one person who needed him was the one that he had left behind. Sometimes, she got overwhelming angry at him and others like today she missed that part of her heart that was her brother.
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Short story writing part 1
Nobody knew her dreams, least of all the teacher at the top of the classroom, slowly and momentously boring her class to death. Nobody knew her desires, least of all the boy sitting across the room from her, with the bleached blonde hair and the sweet smile and clean white teeth. Nobody knew her name, least of all the girl sitting right beside her, trying desperately not to allow her smooth skin to touch her leg. Nobody knew her, least of all herself. The person inside the skin, the mind inside the head, the feelings inside the heart.
Stevie sighed deeply and tried desperately to keep the sobs and tears inside her small frame. She didn’t want anyone in her English class to see her cry. The boys were also macho, the girls all so perfect. She often wondered, sometimes aloud, sometimes silently why she was put in this class. No-one was her friend and no-one was likely to be.
She turned her face away from the other students in her class. Looking out window, she let the teacher’s voice wash over her, trying desperately not to involve herself in anything that was being said. She knew the topic that was being discussed and she also knew that the teacher would expect her to either answer the questions put or add something meaningful to the discussion. She was over the thoughts and expectations of this class. That was the problem when she was placed her.
Hoping the bell would go quickly Stevie started to think. She started to think of everything that had gone on that morning at home. She remembered her father’s thunderous face, she remembered her mother’s tear stained face and she remembered her own fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of her family’s demise and the knowledge that she couldn’t change the future.
The yelling had become the one constant thing in her life. She never knew which parent was going to be at home when the bus pulled in, usually it was her mother but occasionally it was her father. This always made it a really bad day. He only every wanted to complain about her mother. The way she wouldn’t clean the home, the way she cooked his meals, the way she drove the car and on and on it went. Sometimes, Stevie wondered if she was her father’s own personal psychologist. She wanted to escape this and the shouting.
Glancing away from the window, Stevie heard her teacher say,
“Do you all understand?”
Stevie blinked hard, she had missed the task in her own private daydream. What was going to do? To ask a question would reveal her but not asking the question would mean that she could fall behind. And then she glimpsed the essay question on the board and she understood what was required, picking up her pen and flicking it slowly on the book in front of her.
The teacher looked at her, smiling slightly but allowing her green eyes to bore into Stevie’s mind. Stevie smiled wearily back, she knew her teacher knew something about her situation, all the teachers did, but how much she was unsure. That was part of the problem, they all thought they knew about her here, but no one really did.
Stevie sighed deeply and tried desperately to keep the sobs and tears inside her small frame. She didn’t want anyone in her English class to see her cry. The boys were also macho, the girls all so perfect. She often wondered, sometimes aloud, sometimes silently why she was put in this class. No-one was her friend and no-one was likely to be.
She turned her face away from the other students in her class. Looking out window, she let the teacher’s voice wash over her, trying desperately not to involve herself in anything that was being said. She knew the topic that was being discussed and she also knew that the teacher would expect her to either answer the questions put or add something meaningful to the discussion. She was over the thoughts and expectations of this class. That was the problem when she was placed her.
Hoping the bell would go quickly Stevie started to think. She started to think of everything that had gone on that morning at home. She remembered her father’s thunderous face, she remembered her mother’s tear stained face and she remembered her own fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of her family’s demise and the knowledge that she couldn’t change the future.
The yelling had become the one constant thing in her life. She never knew which parent was going to be at home when the bus pulled in, usually it was her mother but occasionally it was her father. This always made it a really bad day. He only every wanted to complain about her mother. The way she wouldn’t clean the home, the way she cooked his meals, the way she drove the car and on and on it went. Sometimes, Stevie wondered if she was her father’s own personal psychologist. She wanted to escape this and the shouting.
Glancing away from the window, Stevie heard her teacher say,
“Do you all understand?”
Stevie blinked hard, she had missed the task in her own private daydream. What was going to do? To ask a question would reveal her but not asking the question would mean that she could fall behind. And then she glimpsed the essay question on the board and she understood what was required, picking up her pen and flicking it slowly on the book in front of her.
The teacher looked at her, smiling slightly but allowing her green eyes to bore into Stevie’s mind. Stevie smiled wearily back, she knew her teacher knew something about her situation, all the teachers did, but how much she was unsure. That was part of the problem, they all thought they knew about her here, but no one really did.
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