A Universe Trapped in a Labyrinth

This is my boring and interesting and teenager life spanning from age 15 to 18 (and hopefully beyond).
Within you'll find many re-inventions of myself, boy trouble, school trouble and life trouble. (Plus interesting bits I thought I would include as well).
Do you dare to enter the maze?

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40. A girl of a million words

 

Date: Monday 22nd June 2015 18:21

Entry: 43/?

Subject: A girl of a million words

 

Today I would like to share with you one of my early pieces of writing; I discovered this today amongst all the old files on my old computer.

The piece was named ‘The Girl of a Million Words’ and was rewarded by a good A for my efforts so that’s good.

People say that the journey back home is easier than leaving in the first place. That the straight, easy road symbolises the ease of the heart as the town comes ever closer, the familiar sounds and scents enhanced just to show how much the town was missed. But they are wrong. The journey back home is so much harder. It’s like walking into a death trap, thoughts are a complicated tangle and the victory between the head and the heart is almost impossible to distinguish. It doesn’t help that the heart thuds like ominous footsteps inside the throat and the constant conflict in the head slowly loosens the will to carry on. Should she carry on? Should she turn around and head back to the concrete haven that was the city? The reason of Roslyn's return wasn’t good either – a funeral. The best friend she left behind, the girl whose every smile was a symphony, whose every tear held a different painful memory, who thought that tea cured the ills of the world – was dead.

Nails drew half-moon indents into the steering wheel as memories clouded her vision. Of playing in the river that wound its way around the eastern side of Newgate, of sitting under the stars laughing about nothing, of climbing the apple trees just to get the juicy crimson ones. All memories held Carrie in them and now she was gone. Roslyn knew the town would not be pleased about her arrival after all she had left because she had claimed that Newgate was like a sickness and the only cure was to escape and see the rest of the world.

The car rattled past the arrival sign and into the heart of the town. Ring! Ring! The church bells sounded an honour to Carrie who had always loved the dawn and dusk bell rings. The car stopped at the gate of the cemetery, people were walking shadows amongst the city of the dead and the wind whispered apologies to grieving ears.  With a rose in hand, Roslyn stepped out of the car and blended in with the shadows. Big sunglasses hid her teary eyes and stiff black clothes reflected her mood; uncomfortable yet alert. She wanted her presence to remain unknown, she knew that a confrontation would happen and yet she would not let it ruin the act of utmost decorum that must be exhibited at a funeral. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, she drowned out the monotone voice of the priest and listened to the hoard of murmurs, “Poor family, I heard they found her dead in the attic draped over the typewriter,”

“No, no, I heard that they don’t even know how she died, wasn’t murder, wasn’t suicide and we all knew how depressed she had become after Rose’s departure.” were involved in the chatter. Roslyn was shocked. She numbly made her way to the grave and threw her rose in and whispered a pray, “I’m sorry for leaving you behind, you never deserved such misery. I hope that wherever you are, you are happier than you have ever been. I’m so, so sorry,” She moved back into the shadows and waited till the service had ended to say her official goodbyes. Once the family was walking up the hill she made her move. First she sat down at the graveside and told her about her life in the city, about how she had made a life for herself and become a publisher and devoted her life to doing what their childhood selves loved. She then went on to the torrent of apologies and sobs as she grieved. But what she wasn’t counting on was the subtle head turn that happens because of uncertainty, Sheriff Hill (Carries father) looked back to see his daughter for the last time and caught the figure of Roslyn. With a shout, he began the descent back down the hill and alerted Roslyn that she had been seen.  As she looked in his eyes she saw that night, so long ago.

It was a cold, dark night and she was in her car speeding away from the town in a wild abandon. The sorrowful but swift goodbye with Carrie had been draining and all she had wanted to do was get away from it all. But her attempt at escape was halted by the screaming police sirens and as she was pulled over she thought it couldn't get any worse. Sheriff Hill was shocked to see the girl, he had thought to be his own daughter after the girl’s parent’s death, running recklessly away. He explained his shock and couldn’t console her when her limits snapped. “I can’t do it anymore!” the girl wailed,” This town is killing me, I need to get away I - I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Why, what about us - your family - and Carrie?”

“Carrie understands, I’m sick of this town it only reminds me that my parents are gone (killed by the car crash arriving here) it’s cursed, my own happiness threatened by staying here. Everyone can’t forgive that I’m still grieving, that me stealing is a release and a plea for a shoulder to cry on. I can’t!” He tried to reason with her but nothing went through, he was stuck on the fact that Carrie would be deeply affected by the loss of her best friend and that the town would be angered at the scar that Roslyn was bound to leave behind.  It maddened him and turned his face into varying shades of red and purple.

“Well, if you’re sick of this town then leave. Leave and never return. For returning will only hurt us more and you’ve done enough damage.” With that the deal was set in stone and the Sheriff watched the car disappear with anger, disappointment and sorrow weighing down his heart.

 

Of course this isn’t all of it but it was the excerpt that I managed to write down. I think it has kind of a Paper Town’s feel which is the sort of mystery type thing I was going for. I like the concept of how a person that be worth a million words and be that complex and simple at the same time. 

Maybe, one day I will carry on this as I remember and do it the justice my old writing deserves. 

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