Inner Calling

• Natalie Haydon, Grade 10, Girraween High School
• Short Story
• 2001

Finalist in the 'Zapped! 2001' competition

The teardrop is warm as it slides down the old lady’s face. But she does not brush it away. It seems somewhat comforting as it slowly makes its way across the contours of her skin. She studies the photograph once more studying every detail intensely. Joe in his brown uniform. She in her simple white dress. Surrounded by a mosaic of white roses. Both revealing the passion they both share for the flower at their wedding all those years ago. The old lady misses Joe with all her heart but knows he still stands by her.
She tenderly strokes the petals of one freshly cut rose standing almost defiantly beside her, resembling the old lady. A white head upon a thin, delicate body alone in its existence. She looks out her window and sees the blue water shimmering in the distance. She craves for the soft sand and tumbling waves. The feeling of the salt spray, pleasantly stinging her body. The old lady decides to chant her aged body’s endurance and make the arduous journey tonight to the beckoning ocean.
The old lady slowly makes her way across the white sand. The uneasy surface proving to be quite troublesome to a person who has acquired the ailments of old age as she. Step-by-step she edges closer to the waters edge.
She finally collapses in the shallow water, the journey more strenuous than previously envisaged. The old lady watches the receding waves and remembers the numerous occasions upon which she shared with Joe; many a moon lit walk along the sand.
She looks up at the full moon high in the sky and marvels at the way the landscape looks as if a fine white paint has been splashed over it. A fragrance filled the air around her and she smiles to herself as she is familiar with this smell of whisky and an old mans odour. A feeling of bliss enters the old lady’s body as the sand blows up, creating a whirlwind around her. The stars ablaze in the sky begin to move, dancing in the giant ballroom of the sky. The old lady focuses on the rhythmic motions of the waves once more and sees an object floating on the water as the tide gently pushes it towards her. She reaches for the object and on touch, a warm magical feeling pours into her body. She trembles at the intensity of the feeling but all the same it relaxes her. The old lady clutches the object and allows herself to lie back, the water embracing her body.
The waves begin to grow but the old lady still grips the object tightly, a smile mapped across her face. Aware not of the waves but only of she, and her single white rose.


The teardrop is warm as it slides down the old lady’s face. But she does not brush it away. It seems somewhat comforting as it slowly makes its way across the contours of her skin. She studies the photograph once more studying every detail intensely. Joe in his brown uniform. She in her simple white dress. Surrounded by a mosaic of white roses. Both revealing the passion they both share for the flower at their wedding all those years ago. The old lady misses Joe with all her heart but knows he still stands by her.
She tenderly strokes the petals of one freshly cut rose standing almost defiantly beside her, resembling the old lady. A white head upon a thin, delicate body alone in its existence. She looks out her window and sees the blue water shimmering in the distance. She craves for the soft sand and tumbling waves. The feeling of the salt spray, pleasantly stinging her body. The old lady decides to chant her aged body’s endurance and make the arduous journey tonight to the beckoning ocean.
The old lady slowly makes her way across the white sand. The uneasy surface proving to be quite troublesome to a person who has acquired the ailments of old age as she. Step-by-step she edges closer to the waters edge.
She finally collapses in the shallow water, the journey more strenuous than previously envisaged. The old lady watches the receding waves and remembers the numerous occasions upon which she shared with Joe; many a moon lit walk along the sand.
She looks up at the full moon high in the sky and marvels at the way the landscape looks as if a fine white paint has been splashed over it. A fragrance filled the air around her and she smiles to herself as she is familiar with this smell of whisky and an old mans odour. A feeling of bliss enters the old lady’s body as the sand blows up, creating a whirlwind around her. The stars ablaze in the sky begin to move, dancing in the giant ballroom of the sky. The old lady focuses on the rhythmic motions of the waves once more and sees an object floating on the water as the tide gently pushes it towards her. She reaches for the object and on touch, a warm magical feeling pours into her body. She trembles at the intensity of the feeling but all the same it relaxes her. The old lady clutches the object and allows herself to lie back, the water embracing her body.
The waves begin to grow but the old lady still grips the object tightly, a smile mapped across her face. Aware not of the waves but only of she, and her single white rose.