Storymakers: LEAVING

Storymakers: LEAVING

By Grace
Seventh Grade
Miller Jr. High School
Hoquiam, WA

"I'm leaving!" a voice cried in the distance. I irritably pried my eyes from my book; I hated when someone disrupted me from my reading.

I glanced toward the kitchen as my mom bellowed, "Go then, I don't care!" Worry seeped through me, jarring me to my senses.

"What happened?" I asked, jumping up from my seat and placing my book on the coffee table. My mom trudged into the living room, moaning as she sank into the seat I had just sprung up from.

"Kim's leaving," my mom said, tears marching down the contours of her flushed face. My stomach twisted into painful knots as I tried to digest her words. I was hit with a sudden realization that somehow, deep down; I had always known this time would come. Kim had been distancing herself from us for a while, but I was too preoccupied with other things that I hardly noticed it. If I had noticed, I probably would have put it aside. I didn't want to face the inevitable. It was too hard to handle, too overwhelming to think about.

My eyes began to water, preparing to pour out all my despair and anger at Kim, all the stupid, wasted, hope I had for her, into one overloaded downpour of misery. Holding them back would be too difficult, and I wasn't ready to handle difficult, so I let it all go. My tears formed pools, soaking into the carpet. I moved toward my mom, gratefully sinking into her arms. I tried to gulp back my tears, to tell her how I felt so that I wouldn't have to carry this burden with me, so that I could share it with someone show would understand.

I muttered incoherently for a moment, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts. "Oh honey, it's okay, I understand." My mom whispered her voice full of distress and disappointment. I could hardly bare to even listen to it. I was too depressed and grief-stricken to respond. Instead, I slumped into my mom's arms, wallowing in my own misery.

I thought it would be impossible to sleep, but I found myself sinking into a place all my own where my problems couldn't follow. My eyelids drooped over my glazed eyes, slowly taking me further away from reality, and closer to my waiting dream.... ... ... I found myself looking through a clear, glass window at a blazing fire contained in a brick fireplace. the room was vacant except for the occasional fly that flitted by, briefly pausing to consider the breadcrumbs strewn around the room. I had this strange urge to go into the house. At first I tried to ignore it, but my eyes seemed to be drawn to the house, pulled by this intense need to enter.

Curiosity started to creep up on me, adding to the annoying pull that I could ignore no longer. I silently stalked to the wooden door and opened it. I hesitantly crossed the threshold, glancing at the walls of the house. I was shocked to see them completely covered in seemingly random signs. I walked toward a wall, reading the odd messages plastered onto it.

One read, "Revenge is an awful thing, learn to forgive." I read on to the other signs that caught my eye. They all seemed to be directed at me, telling me things that comforted and guided me. I saw some well-known quotes like, "Live well, laugh often, and love much." I yearned for more inspirational words. I read one aloud that stated, "If you're looking for an answer to your problems, get out and look for it."

I walked along the walls, seeking out the advice they freely gave. After awhile, I gradually felt myself returning to my conscious self. I had just enough time for one more sign, "...You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can go the whole trip that way."

I opened my eyes, startled to find my face wet with flowing tears. These tears weren't the same ones I had suffered earlier that day; they were different, somehow better. I clumsily rubbed the tears out of my eyes, got up off my mom's lap, and sat on the floor. I was slowly recalling my dream, remembering all that I had seen and read. I wasn't ready to fully confront my predicament just yet, so I delved into my head and snatched all the lines that I had read, putting all my concentration into memorizing each of them.

After I was done, I sat back on the couch and started thinking about Kim. At first, I was immensely angry with her for abandoning us, for abandoning me! How could she just leave us like that? I tried to forget all my anger. The quotes from my dream helped me see that anger never really helps. Instead, I began feeling sad that she was gone; I missed her so much. All I really wanted was for her to come back. I knew that I would do almost anything to have her back.

I got and reached for the phone. After a moment of indecision, I dialed her cell phone number and began pacing back and forth in anxiety. After the fourth ring, she answered, slowly and uncertainly, "Hello."

I hesitated before answering, "Kim, it's me." Before I knew it, I was crying my heart out over the phone.

"Oh, Grace," she said, "I want to come back. I feel so lonely. It's so lame, not even making it one whole day, but I'm not ready to start my own life." Kim rushed on, embarrassed by her own idiocy.

After two hours, I heard a soft knock on the wooden door. I vaulted off the comfortable couch and bounded towards the door. "Welcome home!" I cried, hugging my sister tightly around the waist.

Storymakers: A Creative Challenge for Young Writers, is a program inviting students in sixth, seventh, and eighth grades living in Washington State and British Columbia, Canada, to submit their own original creative writing pieces.