Wow, so I found an old story I wrote for school when I was something like 14. (Had to open it in Open Office because my ruddy Microsoft has expired as usual). So I’ve realised I had started typing it up because the original is a printed copy in my attic.
I’ve managed to type the whole thing up, which you can now enjoy in all its crappy glory. I made the odd edit but I left most of it for authenticity.
The stretch of prairies from beneath my feet ran away from me until they lay upon the distant hillside. The night was a clammy cold. The darkness was a black veil grafted to my skin, like the silent death, as I strolled forward under the thick canopy that is the expansive green of Enchantment forest. Its inner spirit chilled me to the very marrow, the seductive crystals of ice winking from behind the mist.The mystery from within the glaze was drawing me in. Gently I lost the conscious thought that I was moving my own feet inexorably. My head became as foggy as the surroundings before me.
I felt fatigue drift over me, and my eyes became great weights. The forest around me started to swirl and my field of vision as strange and peculiar noises penetrated my very being into my delicate membrane and on into my brain within. I was dead, but alive. Asleep, but awake. Memories of past times and fantasies drifted from my slideshow vision. My consciousness was a great anchor, weighing and pulling me down into eternal slumber. Colours, shapes and all the unnatural things one would not think of clouded me, till I was no longer myself, and I was alone in the inky blackness of the world.
I started, with a ringing cry in my head. It was the sound of someone in distress. I frowned.
“H..h..hello?” said I, into the vicinity beyond my hazy vision. “Who’s there?”
There was no answer except my echo calling me from the distance. I rubbed my eyes to make clearness of the voice that had been laid upon my naked mind, as I woke to my new world. It came to me further on, that my foggy surroundings were a sort of visual metaphor of myself exploring the inner depths of my own subconsciousness. It felt surreal, and I looked for the voice that screamed out from the never ending greyness of my prison, but concluded it was, or rather she was gone. I was puzzled, and questioned myself.
“Huh…what am I supposed to do now? I can’t wander round here! I can’t see a metre in front, let alone an exit.”
I sat down in vain upon an empty floor and cast away endless thoughts of misery, anything negative I could envisage. I was hurting the ones who were closest to me.
Shadow became shadow, and dust settled to mist once again, and for what seemed like years, I plunged myself over into the endless dream, blissfully unaware that I was being watched. I started once more: it was the same ear-ripping scream I had heard some years before, from the emptiness of my new home. I stood from my lonely seat and ran into the unforgetful fog, towards the sound of the woman’s shrieks. I must have ran for what seemed like miles, looking for her, until I finally spotted a silhouette upon the haze. It was indeed a woman, around thirty, her long hazel brown hair flowing from her beautiful head, with her hands grasping the strings to which was harnessed her large red kite, billowing in the air above her. She was screeching and yelling as thought the higher the kite flew, the more pain she seemed to receive. It was baffling as the horror unfolded before me, her features twisting and contorting in agony, like some twisted evil experiment on human emotions. I stepped towards her cautiously with my arm stretched out to reach for the kite.
“What’s wrong? What are you doing?”
Her reply was a mix of chokes and yells. I don’t think she acknowledged me at all. I turned to look at her, and suddenly I felt as though my whole body had been pitched head first into icy water. Her very features had become demonic, and the now red slits of her once beautiful eyes flared at me with some mysterious loathing. My own eyes widened in shock as hundreds more people, men, women and children, appeared in vast crowds, surrounding, suffocating and glaring at me with the same malicious cast the first woman possessed. I took a quick step backwards as they all reared their heads and uttered the most nauseating voice I had ever heard in my lonesome life.
“You have reached the fork in the path; choose wisely.” And with a final spitting hiss, the gangly dark form of the once beautiful woman disappeared along with the rest, into the foggy void beneath me. She caught my eye with her index finger as she left, which in question was pointing to a ladder, seemingly conjured out of thin air. I stared up at its vastly dominating structure stretching out into space and beyond. Frowning I noticed the fog had cleared around the top of the carpentry, as though it was the escape route from the cloudy, claustrophobic prison I had been longing to vacate.
“Hmmmm, maybe I’ll get out of this hell hole once and for all!”
I smirked to myself as I approached the wooden furniture. One hand after another, with each foot following in recess. I mountaineered up towards what appeared to be pure open blueness. I could finally free myself. I reached the top of an endlessly long and enduring ladder, and then leapt upon the invisible ledge. It was an infinite pillow of clouds stretching yonda. I smiled to myself and caught a tear in my eye. The great sun readiated in all its glory across the silver lining of the Earth’s finest coat. The stretch of white ran away out of my limited vision underneath the sky. It was truly beautiful.
And I started for a third time.
“W…who’s there?! Hello? Are you back?” said I as I turned upon my heels, and saw in amazement my deceased friend starring back at me, with the same deep sadness that touched my cold skin. I gawked at him, aghast. Was I dreaming? Was this all some nightmare? I stuttered for a second then smiled, remembering our greatest friendship we had cherished for many years’ of our childhood. He didn’t return my grin, and instead bowed his head and vanished from existence. I ran forward in shock, to the point in which he had stood, only to fall heavily through the wetness of the clouds and into open sky above and below. A knife tore the very tendons of my heart. I began to cry and wonder why everyone looked at me in such deep misery or loathing. I dropped through the rushing air, slowly losing breath, my pitiful life finally coming to its end. Falling faster I remembered the woman who had disappeared, she looked so similar, and her face had been curious. Before the end, a strange old man with no legs appeared falling down beside me, and uttered just these 10 words.
“I do not decide; you make the decisions… choose well.”
I woke abruptly, my face plastered to a newspaper. I rose, trying to to recall my weird and fantastical dream, as I peeled the paper from my sweaty face. I looked upon the pages and read briefly. A new feeling swelled inside then; a deep warmth from my inner being. Statistics were shown of people having disabilities increasing. More crimes and robberies. More death, and for the first time in my life, I truly woke up and smelt the coffee, (which was pretty ironic considering the cafe I was sitting in) and the sharp smell of clean air rose to my attention. The time was to observe my surroundings, my friends and the citizens I used to mock as they went about their daily routines. I stood, much more aware now. I used to do it while never really considering how it affected them. The emotional repercussions of my bullying. I pushed back my chair, placed a five dollar tip on the table and strode out of the cafe, into the busting city. A blur of yellow rushing past and the usual sound of blasting horns. The side walk felt firmer some how under my leather shoes, and the Danished I dibbled on tasted sweeter. My spirits rose further as I crossed over towards the park. As I started to walk through, which I always enjoyed doing, was even more wonderfully relaxing. Passing by my favourite large oak tree, I spotted a girl with beautifully long hair grasping a bundle of strings, which anchored her bright red kite high in the sky. She turned to me and smiled. I smiled back with a sense of deja vu and walked off onto 8th Avenue. It was then I was quickly drawn to the fact, being only two streets away from 10th Avenue; I slowed my pace, and gazed up at the startling clear sky which was a ‘forget-me-not’ blue. The sun was shining with all its spectacular radiance. It was a delicious afternoon.
I was just upon entering the building when a faint cry met my ears. I turned to see the source of the noise, and found a certain somebody had slipped from their wheelchair, and into the side walk. The elderly man gasped in shocked, and tried to move his skinny, frail body back upon his machine. He failed and met the harsh concrete again.
“Hey, you need some help?” I shouted through the crowd as no-one seemed to notice the man’s problem.
“P… please,” he replied wearily.
I passed through the people to reach him, stuck a hand toward his own, gripped and pulled him to his chair and to comfort.
“T…thank you very much… Jason,” he smiled and wheeled unnaturally straight off across the road. Suddenly something came to my attention as I walked back. I spun around.
“Hey, how’d you know my na…” I stopped. He had vanished into thin air or had been swept away by the crowd. Spooked, I returned to my short stroll into my office complex. I entered a long, shiny marbled lobby with giant pillars stretching up to the high ceiling, which lined a carpeted walkway to the front desk. A strong smell of cleaner and polish lingered in the air. As I approached the front desk, the woman, with horn rimmed glasses and jet black long hair, took sharp notice of my presence and called my name.
“Afternoon, Rosie, what do you have for me?” I asked in perplexity.
“A note stating you’ve been moved to Senior Officer in the left wing. You’ll be taking the elevator up today, sir,” she smiled in congratulation. There was something airy about the emphasis she had put on the word ‘up’ that I couldn’t put my finger on. I blinked in awe, took the note from the secretaries outstretched hand, thanked her and walked left through the pillars into the left wing of the building.
As I arrived at the elevator I paused in pressing the ‘up’ button. I heard a queer voice inside my head, all of a sudden.
“It does make a difference,” and so I clicked the button reassuringly, stepped through the beckoning doors’, and waited merrily for the elevator to rise. To rise up and up to the peak, where I hoped to make the best of anything, and everything new to come. To not lay aside things that came by like some careless child, but to take a stand and make a difference. No matter how small the difference may be it always makes a difference. Always.