Story i wrote.

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serbsta

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#1  Edited By serbsta

This is a creative story i wrote for school, context is belonging. Its still a draft, read it carefully so you understand whats happening, theres 2 perspectives. Enjoy. =]


My forgotten past lingers and gazes around at the splendor of the wild that surrounds her impenetrable citadel of loneliness. She will never know the fastidious feel of the night breeze as it unites itself with your very essence. She will never know how the wild can tame any man into altering what he has done. But she is my regret. She is what keeps me away, what keeps me from being close to that which doesn’t want me; instead she stares at the wonders from my fortress of regret.

I picked up a clump of grass just over the mount from my old home that wants me no more, as I don’t want what waits inside it. I have left her behind, to venture on my own journey of fulfillment, to find my own place in this world, as I couldn’t with her, my only child.

I trekked down the hill as I glanced up at the amazing sight of the waterfall, it poured like tears down into the winding trail of despair that carried back to my old home, to my old princess, and she is free there. I took off my ragged boots and motioned through the river, I felt her cries as the tears pressed their way through my toes, trying to take me back, and it wanted me to regret what I had already regretted.

I tread onto the other side and took one final look at the wonders upon the mount which cared for my old regrets. Towering pillars of clouds morphed the walls that protected home, watchmen birds spiraled around the landscape that was my old land, where I did not belong. Only one thing penetrated her walls, the sunlight, it kept her warm from the dangers of isolation, the same isolation that reached me and now was trying to escape.

I need a new home, one where I’m not alone.

I stared out the window; tears paved their way down my misplaced face. My father has gone, to seek anew. I am alone. White towers overlook my home, my prison, my solitary confinement of loneliness where I tend not to notice what is inside but wonder, stare at the mount of which my father has already conquered, in search of a new place to belong. He is free.

The smell of last night’s dinner still encompassed the jail, it smelled worse every day, it decayed like my feelings, my father had gone. I belonged with him, we made each other whole, but there was a speck in his eye which always made him search for more. My father had told me he will return, but I doubt it. He has left me locked, “Mother Nature will take care of you darling, I will return”, he said to me. It’s been days already, not a sign, the mount lays dormant, it is the gate that strides between my isolation and his search for acceptance.

My father must return, he must be very lonely.

Night swept by and I no longer saw the mount that protected the old piece of my heart. I cuddled up with a few rags and thought about her, “father, let’s go fishing, in the lake, next to the waterfall”, she would say every Sunday morning with a sparkle in her eye I fear she no longer had.

Next morning I was awaken by a solemn breeze which blew towards my old home. I heard the sound of others, nearby.  They were dancing and singing, all having a joyous time. I got up and walked over to the small town. Music rang out across the town as hundreds of pairs of people were all joyously dancing to the sound of guitars and bells, whistles and drums. As I approached the people, they were all dressed in splendorous clothing. Women with massive jewels hanging down their robes of scarlet and white which glistened brilliantly in the sunlight as they swayed to the music on lapis tiles which stretched for blocks across the furnished encampment.

I approached steadily; I have found my place of acceptance. My old, drained rags hung loosely off my unwashed body. I looked out of place, but I wanted to fit in.

The music slowed down as I walked over. People turned their porcelain faces and met my gaze, I hastened my pace as If I wanted to get it over and done with be, be acknowledged. The people began to back away as two tall dark men quickened towards me with fierce intentions.

Darkness.

I heard the sound of a stream.

Darkness once more, I glimpsed at the mount that guarded which was precious to me.

It’s so cold; my father isn’t here, to collect the fire wood, to start the fire that would heat us together as we eat hot cocoa and look in wonder at the pillars of God that protect our home, at the watchmen of Nature that ensure us from harm. I am growing hungry and weary. Maybe my father has found a new place to belong, a new place where he is accepted and doesn’t want me to join; hence the lock, on my door, my window, my prison that holds me from enjoying what he is in search of, the lock that keeps me here just in case his mission fails, just in case he has nothing more.

I looked out the stained window past the mount and up at the waterfall. I stared, and saw what appeared to be two flaming rods, two giant men and one almost dying, hanging down. They toss him; he tumbles down the waterfall, and vanishes behind the mount.

I screamed. I cried myself to sleep. I dream.

“Heeeelppp”. Darkness surrounded me, water filled my lungs. I was drowning, yet flowing so fast, the water blew past my toes and rushed through my body.

I awoke, all wet, drained in my tears and my sweat. The man in my dream re-entered my mind and I felt his pain. I couldn’t stand it here anymore; I couldn’t stay in this prison. My father wasn’t returning, he had left me in search of a new place. Now it is my turn to be a part of something, be a part of a place where I am wanted and loved. I picked up a large pot and thrust it at my window, a gust of wind blew inside as I picked up any rags I could find and jumped out of my captors grasp.

I am cold and wet.

The water rushed past me like the tears of my old beloved. Regret filled my mind, how could I have left her alone, isolated, she was my only as I was hers. I felt bruised as my bruised body lay next to the river bed. It had taken me back, to where I belong.

I staggered and got up with the energy I had left. My old home lay in its place; the old piece of my heart lay inside. Steadily, I motioned forward, to be reunited with my love, my child. Lighting struck my heart from the storming pillars of Heaven as I saw the glass that lay scattered around the cottage. I opened the door with my keys, her captors. She was gone, my love was gone, I approached the window and nearly stumbled on the old boiling pot. There on the window perch was what would be my constant reminder, she had carved what I would feel. REGRET, stretched from one end to the other.

As I glared up at the mount which had been her protector, at the waterfall which had been my judge, my guide, I saw a flaming torch atop the hill. A small figure was gazing back at me with the fire pressing close to her drained face. She turned, and disappeared behind the mount.