Cheesy

When I was 13, I was a part of a school creative writing class. For Christmas, we had to write each other a story, like a Secret Santa, and it was allowed to be as cheesy as possible. I found it hilarious to write, as it just made no sense, it was clichéd and ridiculous.

 

Oh, and it had to begin with 'Once upon a time'...

 

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She had long, dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes set into a round, olive toned face.  This girl could not feel the cold like others. She would run around her little village garden, in the snow with not a care in the world.

She played the violin too. She was so very talented with the small instrument; she could play for hours and hours. And it made such a wonderful sound.

One day, that little girl left her home country. It was late at night and she had already said her goodbyes. She packed away her violin and its bow and lifted the case. She walked slowly down the path and away. Away from the little green house that had been her home. She sailed across seas and past continents, searching. Searching for a place to belong.

It was a long, long time before anyone saw that girl again, several years, in fact. It was a group of explorers who had journeyed to the far south, to the Antarctic, that found her. They had never expected to find what they saw.

A huddle of penguins began to gather into a ring around a spot marked in the ice. They stood waiting, but all completely wild. The young explorers watched. And waited.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the girl padded across the snow, so silent with her bare feet. Her eyes were glazed, but there was a smile on her face. The young explorers watched fascinated by the girl who took her place among the penguins, who accepted her almost as brethren.

Slowly, softly, she took her violin and propped it on her shoulder. She began to play.

And the sky lit up with such an array of beautiful colours, pinks, blues, greens and yellows. The Aurora Australis.  The shimmering light patterns reflected in her hazel eyes and shone on her long brown hair. The adventurers watched the girl in awe. Secluded and lonely, silent but beautiful.  Here, was a girl who was at home. Here with the cold, the penguins, her violin and the light.



Roses

Sat in the car, she stares at the front door. The yellow stone; the peeling blue paint on the frames. The familiar smell of roses wafts through the rolled down window. She sighs.

It had been nearly a year since she’d seen them last, her work taking priority and precedence over all of her friends. Reaching home, she barely had the energy to cook for herself, let alone to keep in contact. Yet, here she was.

Out of the blue, the hand written note had appeared on her floor. A birthday, with a date and a time and a place. And a second chance. She glanced to her side where lay the present she had brought. Slowly, she picked up the parcel, and locked the car behind her.

The knock at the door was faint, but the puppy did the rest. Yapping, the small fluffy dog bounced and scrabbled to see her. Her friend opened the door, practically unchanged for a year’s wear. The smile shared shed that distance.

It was a beautiful afternoon, with food and laughter. But most importantly, she relaxed, found her friends and for the first time in a long while, she was happy.

Whispers

This short story, I hate to admit, is actually a fanfiction *cringe*. But I figure the emotions are real enough and could relate just as well to any character (also as probably no-one has ever heard of this fandom). Take a read, and tell me what you think.

 

She stood by the window, watching, waiting. Always waiting, now. Rain turned into sun, turned into night. The moonlight glowed across the cobbled streets. Once she would have deemed it beautiful. Now it was only a stark reminder of what had once been.

She turned away and looked inwards. She’d never realised how large a lonely house could feel. And it was. Forgotten memories played out across every surface. This place was no longer her home. It was her prison, and his memory her torture.

As she climbed the stairs to the room they had shared. She paused on the stair that creaked. A memory danced across her face. She looked back down and thought even now she regretted letting him leave for his duty. A mission he wouldn’t let her come to. He had stopped her on this stair.

 She continued to climb, the task almost laborious. She paused as her hand stroked the door handle, the metal cool against her palm. She turned it and entered.

This was one of the worst places. The warm walls and soft surroundings should have been a comfort, but they weren’t. She leaned against the closed door and shuddered an inhalation, her breath catching in her throat. She opened them again and padded across the room.

She stood before the mirror at the woman who was not her. She had barely eaten since he had gone, almost two months now; barely slept either. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken into her sallow face. The smile that had once danced across her lips had faded to extinction. She felt so alone. Her clothes hung off her fragile frame, limp and dull. Her hair hung in front of her face in ragged strands. She couldn’t bare the image before her, and turned away.

She walked over to the drawers that had been his, ran her fingertips across the top, disturbing the dust blanket atop of it. She pulled one of the drawers open and was surrounded by his aroma. Tears formed in her eyes as she replaced her jumper with one of his, letting his feeling engulf her entirely. She let them stream down her face as she settled onto the bed.

She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. The times before he was gone flooded through her mind; every whispered word and secret touch. She extended her hand across to the side where he had slept, so cold now, when once there had been roaring life. She felt cold.

 She turned on her side, away from the light, curling her legs up to her chest. She blinked away the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

Then, there was a breeze. The window swung open, the curtains drifting in the night air. It was warm outside, for the time of year. She closed her eyes again, and it almost felt like a breath tickling her neck. The warmth spread to envelop her tiny form, curled up on its side. She thought she felt his hands, one curling around her waist, the other tousling her hair slightly. Another tear leaked from the corner of her eye. This is how all of her dreams were now, and she was dreading the moment she would wake and find it all to be a lie. But for now, she would let herself sleep. She took a deep breath and let sleep engulf her. In that misty haze, she thought she even heard him, but denied it to the trickery of the wind.

 “I’ve missed you.”