Footsteps

• Angelina Brown, Grade 7, Coombabah State High School -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

(Based on a true story)
Sometimes I imagine that people can see me, but then I step back into reality where I know that they can’t see me, hear me nor value me. I want to be seen like a patch of majestic blue mink flowers in the desert standing out, but I know that I can’t and will never stand out ever again. I wish I could take back my reckless decision that left me to my death, I decided to get in a car with a man, but I couldn’t quite get his name. He promised me that he’d take me to the place I wanted to go, my HOME. We cruised down the rough tar road every second that past by was almost like slow motion, and I started to get more anxious. As I was getting out of the car the clash of my door that closed behind me gave a fright as well as knowing the place he left me wasn’t my home. The stars were glaring in my eyes the eerie darkness of that night would never escape my memory. Then from behind me the noises of his footsteps crept closer… And closer... till I couldn’t hear him or anything anymore. All I did was lay there unable to move, paralyzed in other words. The day he came back and placed me in the waves of water, he stood on the bank where he laid me there waiting for me to float away or drown. But deep down in my mind I still thought the waves could turn to gold with luminous colours of the dolphins jumping out of them, they would call to me to swim with them swirling and diving into the bright blue currents. However, my imagination has gone dull and the wind no longer blows through my hair, so I lay afloat in the water afraid of what could get me. I can feel the auras of my love one’s disappointment in me I gloom around them hoping they can still hear or feel my heartbeat. If you look out to the stars you can see me, not me I am today, the one I was, the one that could actually dream of doing something amazing
(I sit up in my bed the salty tears start swelling in my eyes, then overfill. They drop down my face and I realise my life isn’t as bad as I thought. I mean it was a terrible bad dream after all.)
However, this isn’t over it’s only the beginning, because stories never end.