I took on a writing challenge.
If you write, you should definitely have a look at this challenge.
Thanks so much, Aliah, for putting up this challenge! I enjoyed writing the first chapter a lot.
I hope you enjoy!
(I haven't come up with a name because I can only write one chapter a week)
:( This motivates me to finish a story!!!
If dreams are supposed to seem distant, why does this one feel so near?
Its like I'm standing in the middle of a mile-long bridge and can see it on the golden horizon, right before my eyes.
I need no guide.
I need no compass.
I believe my will is enough.
All I need is my dream, my hope, and my heart.
I shall follow my heart.
I will not know whether this dream just appears to not be faraway, or if it really is, unless I keep on the journey to find out.
It seems so odd to me that it feels so close, like I could reach out, touch it, and simply wrap my fingers around it, drawing it to my chest to cherish it. Why is everyone else's hopes and dreams so high? I can't say why I chose an easy one for myself, I just did. No, my heart did, and believe that is just why.
But really why, I'll never know.
I close my diary and roll to my back, staring at the ceiling above my bed.
I think it might need repainting up there, as odd as that may sound, but it wouldn't sound odd if you saw this house.
Here, everything needs repainting. Or repair, or something new.
Oh, refrigerator, you say? That one's easy. Rust could be spotted (or in this case, it can jump out at you) the moment you walk in the kitchen. I'll say the worst of it is in the top left corner of the right hand door.
But that's unnecessary. The bottom line to all this nonsense thinking is that I'm grounded.
And what for, you ask?
I'd like to know too.
They say they shoved me in this dungeon for changing the flowers in our across-the-street neighbor's front garden bed from purple to blue.
Well, not exactly again, but for just changing the colors of her flowers again. The yellow wasn't that bad, and those pink ones were okay, but when I saw that purple out our front window, I just couldn't hold it in. Before this little incident, I had as well changed the orange gladiolas to yellow rimmed with red, and our neighbor wasn't upset (in fact, if you ask me, she seemed quite pleased), but for some stupid reason, my parents...or, parent, was not pleased. He didn't ground me, but he also didn't talk to me for a week, and made me make my own breakfast, and lunch, and dinner...
Gwen told my dad that I needed a harsher punishment ("for its very impolite for one to make changes to one's property without permission"), but he kept it cool.
Well, cool in his way. I didn't enjoy the tension that week, though. And you don't wanna be around me when I'm cooking. You wouldn't even be able to stand the smell alone.
You would think they wouldn't even notice the change in color! Such a small deal! Oh, I know. Maybe they didn't like the color either, and that's why they noticed it.
And so when this happened, both Gwen and dad got together and thought up a "rightful discipline."
I close my eyes and picture "it" all once again. What a heavenly sight. This was always my escape plan. To think of this. I reach out my left hand to grasp the locket that lay on my bedside table, its chain dangling from the edge of the surface. I press my nail up against the little lip on the side of the chipped, golden painted heart, and stare at the picture so I don't have to imagine it. For a moment, I can't take my eyes off it, and something in me breaks. Knowing I'm completely alone, I let the tears flow. Not real sobbing, just salty water streaming down my cheeks.
This is my dream. I can see it before me. I know what it is, I know what I want, I know how to find it, I just don't know where to find it.
I know there's more to life than just chasing dreams! You need to find it, then chase it, and then you can do big things with your life.
After you catch it, of course.
See, I know these things. So why is it so hard? You'd think if you knew so much about something, you'd be able to accomplish it. Don't ask me anything about it, because I don't know the answer to your question.
Finally, after about a straight half hour of crying, I swipe the end of my "over-lengthed" sleeve over my cheeks, but in the mirror on the wall to my right, I can see the tear stains are still quite visible.
But so what. No one's to see them. I haven't gone anywhere in days. Being home schooled, I don't do a ton of stuff away from home, but I do go out occasionally. But since I'm grounded for a week, I haven't been anywhere in five days (yes, there's only two more days left of this misery!).
Dad's kind of tight on money right now. See, he lost his job a month ago, but he's known Gwen for two years now, and she's got her own job, so she doesn't mind helping out a bit. But its still not enough.
I wonder if there's a nearby food mart I could work as a cashier at. I know there's been some places bumping the age minimum to 18, but if there's a small store with low traffic, maybe they'd be willing to hire a needy 15-year-old. I'm pretty capable at doing stuff like that. As long as I don't turn the carrots to blood red by accident, or the plastic bags to paper, we're all good here.
I clear my head as best can, and shuffle towards my window bench. I love this bench. Its the perfect place to write my thoughts down in my diary, and if I have to pause to think, I can stare out over the golden prairie. I decide this is what I'm going to do, but minus the diary. Just think.
Oh, now you're going, "But you just cleared your head!" and I know this. But I guess I just needed a quick break.
I refill my head with new thoughts and worries with a glazed looked frosting over my eyes. This is what you're supposed to do when you're stuck in your room grounded, right?
I thought so.
The first thing I lock my gaze with is the weathered barn about a minute's walk from here. That's where we used to sing to each other. It was a talent we both kept hidden, but not to each other. I remember; he also played the guitar, so sometimes he would play as I sang, but most of the time we would write songs, then sing them together. I wanted to learn the guitar, so that I could play for him while he sang, and one day after performing one of our songs together, I spoke up and told him that I wanted to learn. So he offered to teach me, and we got as far as understanding the main chords, when he disappeared.
Heaven knows, I will never forget that day. It was the absolute worst day of my life.
I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can before the flashback returns.
Just the thought of experiencing the flashback makes me want to throw open my window wide and scream at the top of my lungs, "Where are you?!"