I looked at the lady that got ou the passenger seat. She must be the granny as she was the older of the two. She was shorter than me, her posture stooped over, as if carrying some great pain on her shoulders. Under her arm she had swung her quilted bag and the clothes that hung off her frail body were simple, yet colourful and clean. She walked with a bounce in her step, like she walked to her own beat.
The lady who got out from the back of the car was definately younger. She must be the aunt. She was more cautious in her step, you could see she was more self-conscious within herself.
I did not quite know what to do.
I had always wondered about where I came from. There had been something that was missing from as far back as I could remember and I had always had the feeling that I did not fit in completely. Not that there had been no love or I was made to feel any different as I could not have been more fortunate with the family I had around me. It was just something that was never spoken about and that was the way that it had always been. Yet it did not stop my internal questioning. I had moved overseas by myself only a couple of months ago and the day the phone rang and I heard my moms voice I knew immediately what it was about. He had died, the man I had always wondered about was gone forever. I could not find the word to describe him as I had a father already, but this was the man who caused my very being. I would never be able to see him or speak to him, never be able to look into his eyes or hear his laughter. The rage and sorrow that I felt in my stomach was like none I had ever felt before and it tore through my body with such a vengeance that my hand shook as I held the phone. The walls started to close in and the ceiling felt only a few inches above my head. I had to get out into the fresh air. It was cold outside, the clouds were grey and low in the sky and the sea raged against the rocks below the cliff face. It suited my emotions perfectly, as if the world was sharing the loss with me. Warm, salty tears began to run down my cheeks and were quickly whipped away by the wind.
That was over now. Now I was looking forward and the people that I was meeting today were the people who would give me so many answers my head would be swimming in new thoughts. I looked at them through the glass windows as they stepped out of the car and a smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. I opened the door that led out into the courtyard and felt the suns rays on my body. It was like I was stepping outside for the first time.
My friend and I chatted at the gate for a few seconds and then it happened. Out of nowhere a car pulled up behind us and three dark shadows jumped from the back and started to approach us. By this time I was standing outside the car getting ready to go inside. I dropped my books and started to run. The driveway seemed to never end and as I was running I could see the front door was closed – was it worth checking to see if it was unlocked? I decided not and headed toward the path that led around the side of the house to the lawn around the back. All I could hear in my head was the pounding of my feet and the thud of my heart. I waited for the sound of a gunshot to ring out or a hand to grab me from behind, but it never came. I continued to run through the darkness around the side of the house. I couldn’t understand why everything was so black. Normally the house would be lit up from all angles by the security lights, but tonight I had to rely on memory and the tiny bits of moonlight that shone through the trees above. It sounded like someone was running behind me and I forced my feet to carry me faster. As I rounded the corner I could see light coming from the cottage on the other side of the garden and I started to yell. The only word I could say was, “DAD!” and I yelled it over and over again as I raced across the grass. His shadow appeared at the doorway, a look of concern on his face. I was completely out of breath now, from fear and from running and all I could do was drop to the ground and point at the gate, “Jay...Jay”.
It was one of the most awful nights I can remember. I had left my best friend to fend for herself at the gate. I could hear the scuffling going on as my dad hurtled up the drive way to rescue her. I don’t remember hearing the squeal of the tyres as the car pulled away or pulling myself off the ground to phone the police, but I do remember walking around the corner and seeing the shape of my friend slumped under the dim light of the street lamp. My blood ran cold as I started to walk toward her, but as I saw movement I began to run. Thankfully she was fine, just very shaken up and my father was returning, scratched and bleeding after falling from the car while trying to rescue it. Again the thoughts of overseas began to flood into my head. The days began to get even worse as fear took over every time I stepped out the house, but I knew I couldn’t let anyone see. Soon I allowed myself to forget about it all and carried on as "normal".
Writing...hmm the curse and the madness. Would I like it any other way? Not a chance.
I have heard it said many a time - write about what you know and what more do I know about than myself (or do I really. Probably not!). However, I tap away at my keyboard whenever I get the chance and normally I just write about events in my life, things that have happened during the day - whatever. It may be boring, but I`m using it as practise to hone my writing skills and maybe as a little personal psychology too.
I am a great analyser - I analyse simply everything and everyone. I like to ask questions and know the how and why, so when something happens I like to tear it to pieces and find the meaning behind it. Now I need to learn how to put these thoughts down without waffling and trying to sound creative. Any feedback, good or bad is greatly appreciated!
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