Madness

• Erica Soun, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

Do you know the definition of madness? It is not as simple as you would think you see. The way I experienced it was something beyond than seeing a scary movie. I rocked back and forth in my seat, closing my eyes, and allow myself to calm down from the thought of having to do so much work. There was all of this homework, a story online which needed updating, and there was this story for the writing competition that must be completed.
Thus, I sat at my desk, allowing the ambience of my younger brother who was screaming at the computer screen to soothe me as I began typing. Of course, this did not help one, single, bit. However, I was thinking for far too long till the sun had settled behind the green hedges of my garden. That was when I heard a scrapping sound outside my window. I stared out into the dark abyss and there right in front me, I saw a demented, pale face looking back at me. Her mangled hair danced side to side in the wind, or was it the trees behind her that were dancing? Nevertheless, the frightening feature of this creature was that her dry lip cracked into a sinister smile. What was the most surprising of all was that her face looked like mine.
Was I imagining things? Of course! When I was kid, I had always been imagining, but the other kids thought that I was, “strange” when I talk to myself. I always had my eyes down onto a piece of paper and the lead of my pencil never moved thirty centimetres away from it, as I was stuck writing or drawing about my own fantasy world.
However, this being, this monstrosity of me, was she real? Was she staring back at me? Yes she was. When I saw her, I was unable to differentiate between the world of reality and my imagination. I sank back in my seat, trembling away from the window. My fingers clattered onto the keyboard quite hesitantly, as my eyes dared not to glare outside the window.
“Give up,” I heard her protesting outside. “There is no reason for you to continue like this.”
That was when the little twitches started. Soon my body exhilarated like the start-up of a engine.
“Stop this! You won’t make it!” she snapped.
I shook my head. No, she does not understand, that I was mad for writing. I shut the curtains and I saw her two malicious eyes no more.
My eyes opened widely and I gasped. It was all a dream. I looked down at my computer screen and an assured smile came upon my face.
That girl from my dream was just my conscious telling me not to do what I love doing the most. I cannot let her even the others tell me that I am mad, because I already know that I am indeed mad for writing.That is madness.