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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Waiting- Chapter 4
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Extended Work
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| Waiting- Chapter 4 | |
| By Laura | ||
| 16 September 2006 | ||
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The end of my babble I think, hehe. <3 Chapter Four: Run away I inhale quickly, trying to restore the oxygen back into my veins. I’m bent over, facing the ground, my hair pouring over my face and my hands clutched on my thighs. A few beads of sweat drop onto the green grass beneath me. I arch my back, trying to reduce the strain on my spine. I smile as the first sun rays of the day brush across my skin. I stand here for a moment, admiring the beautiful sun rise. There are hardly any clouds today and a soft breeze swam in the air, cleansing me from the early heat. My watch beeps as it strikes 5:00am, I take one more deep breathe as I begin my three kilometer journey back home. This is a lot easier now than it was a few months ago. I bask in the glory of my achievement, laughing as I run up a hill with ease. I throw some un-realistic Taekwondo kicks in the air, each one adding to my ego. I look around to see some of the wild life arising for the day, a long legged bird watches me cautiously as I jog past, it eyes black as the dead of night. It shook it white feathers and spiraled into the morning sky. I stop to take a drink from my water bottle, struggling to breathe at the same time. I pour some of the water across my neck in an attempt to cool down, I watch as it trickles down my singlet, I shiver as I feel it dribble down my spine. At this moment a cloud drifts in front of the half risen sun, the world goes dark for a second. I look down to the concrete footpath where I stand, staring blankly at an engraving someone has done in the path: “I love SOS, forever.” My breath slows as I read this, my eyes begin to burn. I lift my head high, and swallow, as I do this I whisper: “There’s no such thing.” I turn to face my destination, flicking my hair out of my face and start to sprint as fast as my legs will take me. The wetlands were now just a blur of green and blue. I groan as I feel my muscles straining, a strong sting in my jaw from clenching my teeth so tight. Still I run, trying to leave my feelings behind on the engraving; the wind beating up against my face make my eyes water blurring the landscape even more. I scream as I find myself falling face first into the pavement, I tuck my head quickly and roll over my shoulder, landing on my back. I look up at the sky in a teary gaze, I cough trying to again recover my breath. The smell of blood filled my nostrils, and I looked down to my twisted ankle, I try to move it only to feel a jolt of pain that makes its way quickly up my nerves. Instead I try to sit upright, my head spins for a moment, and I squint to see in front of me. I feel my hands and forearms throbbing, I look at them to see my arms covered in blood, rocks and dirt. I moan as I poor the water on them, it stung deep into my skin. I sigh, and stand up, despite the tender agony of my twisted ankle and bleeding hands. I limp home, my mind blank and my breaths short. I look the world in the face, not dropping my gaze for a moment. The sun didn’t rise for me that day. * I’m sitting in class, it is period three. I’m listening intently to my Cultural Studies teacher who is lecturing us about the history of Ancient China, this class is one of my favorites. The fan is beating above me, the breeze cool against my back. She sets us to right a short essay on everything we know about Ancient China. I smile at the ease of the assignment; I begin immediately, losing myself in my words. The class is quiet, the only sound is the pens and pencils scratching paper and the soft chirping of the finches outside the window, their song calms me, distracting me from the heat. This atmosphere much unlike my old school, there’s no paper planes drifting across the class, no crayons pelted towards the fan, no spit balls stuck to the ceiling, only peace. My concentration is broken, a note slid in front of me with my name on it. I open it, careful not to disturb the silence. My thumbs fumbled with the papers many folds, finally I open it to a message written in purple pen: “Happy Birthday Laura. P.S: what happened to your hands?” I giggle at the thought of the note, and turn to my friend. I mime “thank you” with my lips, we both smile. I look at my hand and pull my head back in disgust at my still seeping palms and forearms. Today is my seventeenth birthday and there is no room in my head for me to truly appreciate it. A million thoughts are all fighting each other at once, like a pack of hungry wolves devouring a fallen deer, each possibility tearing apart the next. I ignore the chaos and try to concentrate on the work in front of me, spilling some of my thoughts onto paper, I can deal with them this way. I look at my page once again, I try to make out the words that I have written down, the more I try the more they fade into one with the white background. The beating of the fan slows, it too fading to a forgotten echo. My eyes begin to sting and for a moment my mind is silent. I feel someone close to my ear, I feel their breathe warming the side of my neck. I feel them open their mouth to whisper: “He’s not coming back…” My world spirals into a vortex, leaving me no choice but to watch as my thoughts play there role. I find myself looking down on the world, a part of the world that looked like it had been forgotten for a while, the garden overgrown and the smell dank. A small body is making its way very fast across the muddy path, cutting through the branches and vines. As I look closer I see a dark figure behind it. I zoom into the running body and see that it is a teenaged girl, I hear in her breathe how terrified she is. As I study her more, I see the familiarity in her face. I know this person, but she is different to what I remember, her face more worn and broken, her eyes are cold yet filled with fear. Then I see what is underneath. It is me, I’m running, there are tears in my eyes and the taste of blood in my mouth. Someone is chasing me. A black silhouette, I’m unable to make out any of its features. Whatever it is, I can feel its presence, I feel I know everything about it. I feel how much it hurts to be around it. I can feel that the person I’m looking at has taken as much as she can from the dark figure. I can see that she is tired, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out who the person chasing her is. My blood boils with rage as I look at what I’ve become. I watch as my fear turns into anger, my thoughts are drowned out by a high pitched drone. The running me is stopped by a great stone wall, covered in mould and bright yellow flowers. She does not turn to the figure, she just stares at the wall, deeply and intensely. Her breathe gets heavier, the hand from the ghoul creepily makes its way along her throat; the other hugs her just under her breast. She opens her mouth to scream- * I waken to find myself in a bed that is not mine, I am surrounded by machines, one of which is feeding a clear liquid into my arm. The room is dark and empty bar a few chairs, bed side tables and a painting on the wall. I turn on the lamp next to me to find a little book underneath with a card placed upon it. It had my name on it, still oblivious to what had happened and how I got to this place, I raised my shaky hand and leant over to pick up the card. I struggle to open it. I saw that it was from my father: To My daughter on her Birthday. I wish you all the happiness and strength in the world. I hope this helps you on your journey to success. ..Dad The book was a diary I had wanted for years, one with Chinese calligraphy on the front. I asked it from him so that I could start over, so that I could erase my old life and start a new one. Until now, we couldn’t afford it. I smile, then burst into tears. The same questions keep crossing my mind: why am I doing this? Why am I throwing my life away, over a fantasy? I’m not going to do it anymore, I can’t. I stop crying, in fear that someone might see. I look at the journal and flick through the pages. I go to the last one and tear it out. I grab the nearest pen and I begin to write: To my love, It’s seems it has been forever since I have heard from you, even so I still feel your presence, everyday, every hour, every second. Once I would have done anything to keep that feeling, but now it’s the presence of you that is tearing me apart. Every night I cry myself to sleep and I’m tired. I’m tired of not knowing where you are, who you’ve become or who you were. A part of me will always love you that I will not deny; I cannot wait for you any longer. What we had seemed to be fate, now it just seems like it’s a forgotten fantasy. I can’t hurt like this anymore, I have to forget you, and you should do the same. This is goodbye, Laura. I bit my tongue as I signed my name, the last sentence hurt the most to write. Droplets of my tears fell onto the letter, smudging some of the letters. I clenched my stomach as it ached from grief. I sealed the letter with a kiss, bidding all my pain and all my love with it. I swore that I would send it in the morning, I also swore that I would listen to my friends more often. I still remember to this day my best friend telling me to end it now to save myself a lot of heart ache. * The sun was peeking just above the hills, sweeping the plains with a golden dash of light. I was still laying in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling and every so often at the letter. I knew it was now. I steadily pick myself up along with the letter, I gently pull out the drip that was in my arm. It stung. With the letter I walk out into the hospital corridors, the tiled floor was cold against my feet that made me curl my toes when I walk. I clutched the letter tightly, knowing that if I dropped it I would lose all ambition to send it, I didn’t want to let him go, but I knew I had to. My steps slow as I near the post box. I felt the same pain I felt at the air port, the feeling of loss and defeat. I come face to face with the post box. I closed my eyes and tried to think of everything I was about to throw away, so that I knew then and not later. A few flash backs zoomed in my mind, a few happy memories that were now just like a faded photograph. I still remembered the happiness I felt the day I fell in love, but the dread of losing it was much more powerful. I clench my fist securely, my nails digging into my skin. A calming voice whispered in my mind, a close friend: “You’re doing the right thing.” Before I knew it, it was gone. Only one tear seeped down my face, I couldn’t cry, not anymore.
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