themagickeeper
June 2nd, 2008, 11:51 am
Hi guys this is something I found in my files, and it's a different style of writing for me altogether. Hope you enjoy, please comment (you'll find the feedback thread in the feedback section under the same name)
__________________________________________________ _________________
CHAPTER ONE
Car keys and other items.
Instructions on the fridge.
Don’t forget your soccer uniform this time! No Mum to drop it off for you!
The mail. The worst part. Bills, overdue library books. Postcards. The tropical rainforests of North Queensland. St. Kilda in Melbourne. Cradle Mountain in Tasmania.
Painful memories of holidays creep up. I push them away.
Lost videos found. More memories.
Although many people were in the house, it felt empty. I couldn’t bear to stay here. I had to.
Aunt Julie in the guest room. Uncle Peter & Alice on the fold out sofa bed. Jess, Mandy and Jamie in my room. Special permission from parents. “Only one more week until school starts. I don’t see why not.”
School. Memories bombard my mind once more.
Pre-primary. Tears and fears.
Year Seven. Graduation. Crying mother; proud father.
Scenes from a dream.
----
White.
The kitchen, the living room, the hallway entry. All white.
Masses upon masses of flowers.
Irises, lilies, tulips and roses.
Small cards, large cards conveying ‘Deepest Sympathies’ and ‘I’m Sorry About Your Loss’.
One week passes me by - a day dream gone horribly wrong.
Then the funeral.
A large procession; the black hearse.
Colours everywhere. Bright blue, sunny yellow.
Each guest a balloon. My two a lime green and metallic gold – favourite colours.
Hundreds floating away in the air, lost souls travelling to heaven.
Speeches after speeches. Coffins side by side. Personal items lay inside.
Dad’s keys to the BMW, the barramundi he caught on a fishing trip.
Mum’s old teddy bear, a family photograph.
I scatter roses on the coffins as they are lowered into the ground, away, gone forever.
‘Hallelujah’ plays softly in the background. An escaped tear down my cheek.
A wake held afterwards, back at the house. The will read out.
Uncle Peter gets the BMW, a spare key already cut for such situations. Aunts and Uncles get old antiques.
Me – heirlooms, jewellery, photographs, money. Basic treasures.
Whispers of conversations. “What becomes of the girl?” “What will happen to the house?” Meaningless questions.
-----
Aunt Julie has taken charge.
Debts are paid off, items returned.
I don’t sleep at night – it shows. Deep and dark bags form.
School friends visit, whispering about my changed appearance.
I try not to cry – it is too painful.
CHAPTER TWO
Don’t say it’ll never happen to you. I said it, and look where I am now. An orphan, abandoned by my parents because of turbulence.
These last three weeks have seemed like an eternity. My life is missing – where are my parents, the ones who made my life complete?
Distant relatives cannot fill gaps; friends cannot give you the same laughter.
Coffee will never be the same again.
It’s been decided that I’ll live with Aunt Julie. Halfway across the world, in London. Kilometres away from my parents, from my friends and memories.
The house is sold too quickly, to family with two kids. A life ahead of them.
Things must go. Appliances from the kitchen, the new HD TV and DVD player. The family computer.
But what to keep? Clothing, books, letters. Two large boxes, filled with memories.
The day I leave creeps up on me. Soon it is time for the airport, for the fear to begin.
But good byes must be said.
I must leave friends behind, and the tears start to fall. Memories are given, friendship bracelets made.
“Do you have my email address, my MSN?
“Don’t forget to update your MySpace.”
“Facebook me!”
“Wait! Do you have my mobile number – call me as soon as you can!”
We hug, we laugh, we cry. Tears fall on our faces.
They leave, and he comes.
His voice a whisper. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” Tears silently fall.
He leaves a single red rose, a symbol of passion, of love.
-----
The final day.
The day I have feared since I first found out I was moving halfway across the world.
We arrived at the airport early. We are not due to check in for another half hour, and even then there is a two hour wait to board the plane.
A trip to a coffee shop is planned, and my takeaway mug shakes in my hand.
Soon it is time to check in. Aunt Julie takes me to the front desk. As we enter, a large banner hangs; a mountain of flowers and wreaths.
We shall always remember. Flight 165
I shake uncontrollably. Was it only three weeks ago that my parents stood in this very spot, excited about going on holiday?
We walk on past, I stare straight ahead.
I must not cry, I tell myself. I must not cry.
A lone tear falls. I brush it away.
The passports are handed over and stamped. The noise frightens me, an echo loud in my ear.
The hours fly by. I hold a book in my hand, but I cannot read. It has been the same for these last few weeks.
Soon Aunt Julie wakes me out of my stupor. The plane is ready to board.
I feel sick. I gulp my throat suddenly dry and itchy. How much I want this all to be just a dream, a terrible nightmare.
Will my mother be there to comfort me, when I wake up?
__________________________________________________ _________________
CHAPTER ONE
Car keys and other items.
Instructions on the fridge.
Don’t forget your soccer uniform this time! No Mum to drop it off for you!
The mail. The worst part. Bills, overdue library books. Postcards. The tropical rainforests of North Queensland. St. Kilda in Melbourne. Cradle Mountain in Tasmania.
Painful memories of holidays creep up. I push them away.
Lost videos found. More memories.
Although many people were in the house, it felt empty. I couldn’t bear to stay here. I had to.
Aunt Julie in the guest room. Uncle Peter & Alice on the fold out sofa bed. Jess, Mandy and Jamie in my room. Special permission from parents. “Only one more week until school starts. I don’t see why not.”
School. Memories bombard my mind once more.
Pre-primary. Tears and fears.
Year Seven. Graduation. Crying mother; proud father.
Scenes from a dream.
----
White.
The kitchen, the living room, the hallway entry. All white.
Masses upon masses of flowers.
Irises, lilies, tulips and roses.
Small cards, large cards conveying ‘Deepest Sympathies’ and ‘I’m Sorry About Your Loss’.
One week passes me by - a day dream gone horribly wrong.
Then the funeral.
A large procession; the black hearse.
Colours everywhere. Bright blue, sunny yellow.
Each guest a balloon. My two a lime green and metallic gold – favourite colours.
Hundreds floating away in the air, lost souls travelling to heaven.
Speeches after speeches. Coffins side by side. Personal items lay inside.
Dad’s keys to the BMW, the barramundi he caught on a fishing trip.
Mum’s old teddy bear, a family photograph.
I scatter roses on the coffins as they are lowered into the ground, away, gone forever.
‘Hallelujah’ plays softly in the background. An escaped tear down my cheek.
A wake held afterwards, back at the house. The will read out.
Uncle Peter gets the BMW, a spare key already cut for such situations. Aunts and Uncles get old antiques.
Me – heirlooms, jewellery, photographs, money. Basic treasures.
Whispers of conversations. “What becomes of the girl?” “What will happen to the house?” Meaningless questions.
-----
Aunt Julie has taken charge.
Debts are paid off, items returned.
I don’t sleep at night – it shows. Deep and dark bags form.
School friends visit, whispering about my changed appearance.
I try not to cry – it is too painful.
CHAPTER TWO
Don’t say it’ll never happen to you. I said it, and look where I am now. An orphan, abandoned by my parents because of turbulence.
These last three weeks have seemed like an eternity. My life is missing – where are my parents, the ones who made my life complete?
Distant relatives cannot fill gaps; friends cannot give you the same laughter.
Coffee will never be the same again.
It’s been decided that I’ll live with Aunt Julie. Halfway across the world, in London. Kilometres away from my parents, from my friends and memories.
The house is sold too quickly, to family with two kids. A life ahead of them.
Things must go. Appliances from the kitchen, the new HD TV and DVD player. The family computer.
But what to keep? Clothing, books, letters. Two large boxes, filled with memories.
The day I leave creeps up on me. Soon it is time for the airport, for the fear to begin.
But good byes must be said.
I must leave friends behind, and the tears start to fall. Memories are given, friendship bracelets made.
“Do you have my email address, my MSN?
“Don’t forget to update your MySpace.”
“Facebook me!”
“Wait! Do you have my mobile number – call me as soon as you can!”
We hug, we laugh, we cry. Tears fall on our faces.
They leave, and he comes.
His voice a whisper. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” Tears silently fall.
He leaves a single red rose, a symbol of passion, of love.
-----
The final day.
The day I have feared since I first found out I was moving halfway across the world.
We arrived at the airport early. We are not due to check in for another half hour, and even then there is a two hour wait to board the plane.
A trip to a coffee shop is planned, and my takeaway mug shakes in my hand.
Soon it is time to check in. Aunt Julie takes me to the front desk. As we enter, a large banner hangs; a mountain of flowers and wreaths.
We shall always remember. Flight 165
I shake uncontrollably. Was it only three weeks ago that my parents stood in this very spot, excited about going on holiday?
We walk on past, I stare straight ahead.
I must not cry, I tell myself. I must not cry.
A lone tear falls. I brush it away.
The passports are handed over and stamped. The noise frightens me, an echo loud in my ear.
The hours fly by. I hold a book in my hand, but I cannot read. It has been the same for these last few weeks.
Soon Aunt Julie wakes me out of my stupor. The plane is ready to board.
I feel sick. I gulp my throat suddenly dry and itchy. How much I want this all to be just a dream, a terrible nightmare.
Will my mother be there to comfort me, when I wake up?