The Trail

I leave a trail.

The half-eaten sandwich;

Traces where mascara and tears splashed

As they rolled down flushed cheeks;

The stain of painted lips pressed against cold glass,

Or the white paper cup;

Fading scents of vanilla perfume

That linger where limbs have been;

Long hairs that fell from the sweeping chestnut locks

I left my trail,

Never to be followed by you.

Just Let Me Fly

Water trickles from the tap weakly, cold and numb on my hands. I slap my cheeks and stare at the puffy circles beneath each eye in the grimy mirror. Stale alcohol lingers on my breath. Distant voices blare from the hotel-room’s old TV. I can’t tell what the program is-I don’t care. It’s better than the silence.

I dry my face, dragging the rough cotton over my face. Falling on the linoleum with a small crack, the rail breaks from the wall as I throw the towel. I don’t think. I just kick it against the yellowing bath tub. I kick again and again, as the curses spill from my lips.

I am on the floor. My throat is raw with the taste of bile. Flexing my fingers, I feel jagged pieces of plastic dig into my skin. There’s a pile of them circling my aching body. I slide them into a line. None of the edges fit together anymore. I stare at the wall and the only signs of damage are the two metal hooks, which are still intact. Leaving the broken pieces, I drag myself out to the balcony, letting the noise from the TV drift from the open door. A stretch of blistering orange behind bleak buildings. The street below is empty, apart from two children who are chasing each other up and down. A boy of no more than twelve and a girl of eight. She screams as he darts towards her with a stick. I don’t understand what they are saying.

***

Two sets of eyes stare down at me. I can’t hear the words they whisper. Neither of them remove their gaze from my face. Knotty brown tendrils fall from the young face and tickle my cheek. Still not faltering the stare, as she lowers her face towards mine I feel her small hands curl round my shoulders. She bats away the older arms that try to pull hers away.  Attempting to shake me, her face contorts with the strain. I don’t move. Then, droplets splatter on my face and in my eyes. Some fall down my cheeks and into my mouth. I can taste her salty tears. She closes her eyes slowly, tears coating her long eyelashes. An arm embraces her and she is pulled away.

I stare up at the thinning strip of sun. I cannot move. All I feel is the hard concrete beneath me. Sticky pools of crimson glue my limbs to the ground. Why did I jump?

***

In the breeze, my t-shirt ripples across my back and chest. My knees shake slightly as I edge my feet forward slightly. My heart beats fast in my mouth, my head, and my ears.

I whisper to the air: Just take me, just let me fly, even if I fall. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere.

I want to turn up the volume of the TV, but I have gone too far to go back. I remember the bridge. Looking down at the grey concrete I wonder, would the river have been any better?

A strangled shriek shoots my eyes towards the little girl. She is yanking her brother’s arm, pointing at me, but it is too late He sees me, too. Shaking my head, I step down, off the edge. ‘I wasn’t going to-‘ I stop because they don’t understand. With all my strength I tug the corners of my mouth upwards. But I cannot smile. Even from this distance, I can see her lips trembling. My head is still shaking. I step away from them; I don’t want their innocent eyes on me. They can’t see me, not like this.

I perch on the bed again, staring at the TV, but not watching it. Just shapes moving around, just colours. I recognise the voices…Richard Gere. I try to focus on the shapes. Slowly, the figures on the screen become clearer. It is Richard Gere. And what’s-his-name. I know the film because it’s Jeanne’s favourite.

***

I can feel her laughing. Her golden hair falling in waves down her back. She shouts, imitating the accent, “Did you see that bodacious set of tatas?” Laughter bursts from my lips.

What is the name of that goddamned film? I turn the TV off.

***

Even if I had stayed, even if she were sitting beside me in this moment, she would still be a hundred miles away. A distance I will never get back.

(742 words)


This is a response to the Grammar Ghoul Press Writing Challenge #6

<a href=”http://www.grammarghoulpress.com/gg-writing-challenge-6-open”><img src=”http://www.grammarghoulpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/gg-wkbadge2.png”></a&gt;

This week’s prompts were:

Bodacious

homesickness

Homesickness by  René Magritte

Also, the film I was referring to was ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’, which was where I found the inspiration of how to use bodacious in my story.

Middle 8

Fifteen seconds of magic;
The very best part of the song…
You can’t help yourself
From forming the shape of the lyrics with your mouth,
Every letter ingrained into your memory

Whether you step along in time-
Buds tucked in ears stream the sound,
Midst other legs striding to different beats and different paces,
Dodging raindrops, swallowing the sunlight;
Or the pulse jars your bones and thumps as hard
As the swell of your heart,
In the electric atmosphere of live, echoing sounds.
Wherever you are, you are immersed
In the music, in the moment of infinity it creates-
Thoughts charged with possibility.

Two Hearts

She opens the doors to the hundreds of hungry eyes. Once they have ran a calculating gaze over the ruffle of short blonde waves down to the thick black boots, they snap their heads back to their own packs of friends. She smacks her lips together, her nervous habit, scanning the faces. A few smiles. Her friends chattering away. One of them beckons her, and she trudges over. Her eyes still scan the remaining faces. Smoothing down her coat as she slumps into a chair, absent minded greetings slip from her lips. Her eyes aren’t on her friend, but they have stopped searching. Midst a sea of bodies, limbs motioning as they cram food into their mouths or cram knowledge into their brains; the great gesticulations of gossip and colliding snippets of conversation, he sits. His eyes lock on to her gaze across the room through the wisps of his dark fringe. The tiny quiver of her lips ushers a thousand words only he can read.

An exchange of flickering glances and telling smiles-a language only known to them- between their dips into conversation with surrounding friends. Buzzing in her mind, the thoughts rise and rise until she cannot hear the meaningless chattering around her. All she wants is to be with him, away from all these bodies-motioning limbs, colliding conversations…

Fingers interlaced, they stand in the cold air. Two warm hearts beating wildly; two bodies slipped out of the crowd. But now, as she stares into the crystal blue eyes, she smiles because she no longer has anything to say.


Today I was watching my friend looking across the room at her boyfriend (who is also my friend). The way they could have their own conversation through a crowd of people, made up of tiny mouth movements and gesture, was fascinating. I think I was the only one that had noticed, and I almost felt like I’d invaded their private moment. Luckily neither of them noticed me.

Very Inspiring Blogger Award!

award

Firstly, a massive thank you to Wendy Vitols, a brilliant author, for nominating me for this award!

So, what has inspired me the most this week?

  1. My form tutor. On Monday I told her the truth, that I haven’t been enjoying sixth form and hating being at this age. I was surprised at how easily I spilled out the thoughts that I’ve been hiding for quite a while. She told me a few words of wisdom that have helped me get through this week.
  2.  Taylor Swift’s new album “1989”. I used “Clean” as inspiration for my post for the Hub Challenge #2. I’ve been listening to it on repeat every day. There’s actually three ‘voice memos’ in which Taylor describes her inspiration in the song-writing process and gives us an idea of the different ways she makes her music. I am always listening to music (despite my terrible musical abilities) because life would be pretty boring without it. It inspires and embraces whatever mood you’re in.
  3. Bonfire night. All the familiar sights, sounds and smells that I’d forgotten came back to me that night. I went with seven friends, watched the fireworks, lit sparklers, dodged crowds and stood around the bonfire trying to keep warm. There is so much going on, it’s hard not to be inspired, really.

I would like to nominate:

http://jademwong.wordpress.com/

http://iamfatina10.wordpress.com/

http://teenageintrovert.wordpress.com/

http://deepbluesandseafoamgreens.wordpress.com/

http://splendidsass.wordpress.com/

 

The rules are:
The nominee shall display the Very Inspiring Blogger Award logo on her/his blog, and link to the blog they got nominated from.
The nominee shall nominate bloggers she/he admires, by linking to their blogs and informing them about it.
Write three things that inspired you the most this week.

When I Could Finally Breathe

I watched the sheets of water crash down on to the pavement, which glinted in the pale moonlight. Once again, the thoughts rose in my belly and into my throat. He was choking me. The dark eyes, the familiar earthy scent wrapped around my skin, encasing my body in the memory of him. He’s not here anymore, he has gone, I tell myself. But my mind wanders on through every trace of him that is left to swallow. The blue T-shirt. The deep laugh, a contagious rumbling. I hadn’t laughed for months.

***

The hat still rested on the table, ‘Taylor Swift’ printed across it. Running my finger over the stitching, I could feel his smile.

‘Okay, okay,’ he waved his hands in the air in surrender. His arms were so long that they nearly hit the roof of the car.  ‘You’re right. I did like the concert. She actually can sing.’

‘Actually can sing!’ I scoffed, ‘You loved it!’ His smile burst into a chuckle. He mussed up my hair, grinning as I scowled at him and plonked the hat on top. Then, he leaned in to whisper, ‘She’s pretty hot,too.’ Laughing at my poor attempt to punch him, he grabbed my waist and the war began. Fits of giggles erupted, as we tickled each other, filling the air with our flood of happiness.

‘I love you,’ the words escaped his lips breathlessly. It was the first time he had ever spoken those words to me. My mouth dropped open. And slowly, it curved into the biggest smile. ‘I love you,too.’

He shifted the handbrake and we drove home.

***

Zipping up my coat, I cursed as it jammed. Screw it. I threw the layer of warmth and protection on the floor. The thud of the rain hitting the pavement like bullets entranced me, guiding me to the front door. With one swift motion I was under the fire of the blades of water.

Every strike pierced another memory. Carrying every trace of him, flowing over my skin and away, coursing along the shimmering ground. My skin was alight with the explosions of each tiny droplet as it fired against me. The grip around my throat had melted away, soaked into my sodden clothes. The buzz of numbness, the shock of the coldness against my skin made me alive. Electricity fired through my veins. No longer the heavy shroud of pain. My heartbeat raced faster than it ever had with him. That’s when I could finally breathe.

The Hub Challenge #2: Planting a Lyric Seed

The Prompt – Run (or walk) to the nearest music playing device (radio, iPod, record player, 8-track) and turn it on.  Select a lyric from the first, random song you hear.  Use that lyric in a piece of writing of your choosing (fiction, non-fiction, poem, letter, etc.).  The Twist – work the name of the artist into your writing as well.

I was inspired to write this by Taylor Swift’s “Clean” from her new album 1989.

Bath

Steam clings to the cold silver glass,

Concealing the zombie lurking

Behind the soft mists;

As lifeless limbs sink into the heat,

Blood rushes to the skin’s surface

A blushing, tender pink

Droplets of moisture, like the tiny soap bubbles

Form on the forehead

Eyes close in a slow, rolling wave,

Letting the heat vaporize poisonous thoughts…