In case you were wondering, this is the story I wrote for the story writing competition last year during English Week. Its not in these exact words because now I obviously have more time to re write it without grammatical errors ( I hope ), add in a few more dialogs and narrations. But it follows the same plot. Don't be alarmed at how long it may look, its just the spacing :)
I thought it would make the yearbook but it didn't. After five years, I thought I would have something written in the school mag to show I was good enough to write for it. Oh well, that was sometime ago. Anyway, here it is. The story that was good enough to win a small prize but didn't quite make the final cut.
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The little girl sat by her bedroom window. Thinking. Thoughts of nothingness clouded her mind, shutting out the reality she didn't want to face. Not just yet anyway.
She rested her elbows on the window sill, cupped her chin in the palm of her hands and stared out the window. It was raining heavily outside. She continued to stare out the window, listening to the rhythmic tapping of the raindrops against the glass of her window. The raindrops fascinated her for a reason she could not place. Unconsciously, she reached out a hand in an attempt to touch the raindrops. Instead, her fingers came in contact with the cold, hard surface of the glass window. The glass felt like something she had grown used to feeling. Cold, she thought. That was what everything felt to her these days. She pulled back her hand and rested both hands on her lap.
It was then that she noticed that her fingers were wet. The all too familiar taste of salty tears were then felt on her lips. Strange, she thought, as she wiped away the tears that were slowly running down her cheeks with the back of her hand; she didn't think she had any tears left to shed, after crying herself to sleep every night for the past week.
The sound of chatter brought her back to reality. It took her a moment longer to remember where she was and for the noise to register in her mind. Ah, yes. Her bedroom. The funeral. Her family's funeral. The guests. Relatives. Friends of her parents. She remembered being downstairs. Giving a smile to people, some of which she didn't recognise at all. The smile she gave never reached her eyes. They would have noticed if they cared to look hard enough.
The noise grew louder. People were starting to wonder where she was. At the back of her mind, she knew she should have stayed downstairs. They were not stupid, those people. They would soon wonder what happened to her. Yet, she didn't stand up to go downstairs and merely remained seated on her chair, facing the window. She yearned for a moment of solitude that was hers alone.
"Dawn, honey, there you are"
The little girl was vaguely aware of the soft voice that called her name. It sounded familiar at least. She turned her head in the direction of the voice. Her eyes landed on the small,rounded frame of her grandmother, standing at her bedroom door. The little girl didn't say a word and riveted her gaze to her window and the rain outside.
"Honey, are you alright?"
She felt the soft hands of her grandmother on her shoulder. The little girl didn't respond to the question, fearing that if she said a word, she would crack. And she didn't want to crack.
"Dawn, say something. The guests are starting to wonder what happened to you. There are lots of people downstairs. They are concerned for you"
At that, the little girl turned her head to face her grandmother once again.
"They would, wouldn't they?", she said in a soft whisper, a voice that was a barely her own.
"They always ask the same questions. Is she okay? How is she? How is she taking it? ", the little girl said, her voice becoming stronger with each passing syllable.
" They know how I feel. They know! Yet they ask the same questions. I'm tired, ma. I'm tired of giving them the same answer. The lies I tell to make them feel better. I can't take it. I just can't. No more. No more "
At that, she broke down crying, the walls of her self-control crumbling. She cried. Tears she had only allowed herself to cry at night, under her blanket of comfort, spilled onto her cheeks, rolling steadily down her face. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears.
She was aware of the soft pressure of her grandmother's hands as they gently led her to the bed. She sat down and crawled into the warm comfort of her grandma's arms.
She cried. For how long, she didn't know. Finally, her tears eased a bit as she regained some control over them.
" It was supposed to be our yearly trip. You know, the family vacation we take every year to the mountains. John was so happy because he had waited all year for it. He loved the outdoors. He always said he was going to be an environmentalist when he grew up. Such strong ambition for a boy of 6 "
The little girl let herself be swept into the story as she recalled that fateful day.
" Mom and dad were so happy to bring us there. They knew we enjoyed it. We usually left town early because it was a long drive to the mountains and dad hated driving at night. But the car wouldn't start properly that day. We thought we had to cancel the trip. John nearly cried when I told him that "
The little girl wiped away a stray tear and continued with her story.
" But the car started properly at the last minute. We would reach the mountains by nightfall if we started out that day. Dad suggested that we drive up there the next morning but John and I refused to waste more time. After much pestering, we won dad over. He could never say 'no' to us. He was like that. Dad said we could sleep in the car and he would wake us up when we reached the mountains."
"Ma", the little girl said and looked up into the familiar, caring face of her grandmother.
"We wouldn't listen to daddy. We should have. We should have. Now...now..." the little girl buried her face in her grandmother's arms again, a new wave of tears flowing from her swollen eyes.
" I can't even remember how it happened. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I didn't even know what was going on. Ma, why? Is it my fault? Why did this happen to me? What wrong did I do? ", the little girl said, anguish in her voice.
" Child, its not your fault. It never was. It was an accident. An accident even you couldn't prevent."
" Why did I survive then? My whole family died. I should have died with them. There's no point in me living anymore. There's nothing left for me in this world. Nothing."
Her grandma kept silent. Then said " Dawn, have you ever wondered about me and grandpa? About your friends? How thankful we were that you are alive? "
Dawn looked up, struck by the thought.
" We were all so glad you were alive. We were expecting the worst when we heard that your parents had died in the car crash. We assumed the worst, about you and John. But you lived. You lived. The pain we feel about losing your parents and brother, you can't imagine. But you being alive gave us the comfort we needed. "
Her grandma looked at the little girl, tears forming at her own eyes.
" We hurt too, Dawn. We know your pain. Maybe you feel it more, but we know, we understand. Believe me, we know how much it hurts that sometimes we just wished we could not feel anything at all then live with this pain. But then there's you. The miracle that survived. And we are thankful that you survived."
The little girl kept silent for a moment, pondering this new thought.
" But why, Ma? Why did God take them from me? He knows I need them.They were a part of me..."
" They left us too. Maybe you'll find the answer to that someday. We will never truly know why. But He has a purpose. It may not make sense now, but it will in time. "
" In time? " the little girl questioned.
" In time "
The little girl nodded her head, feeling a slight burden lifted of her little shoulders. What her grandmother said was true after all. She knew it to be.
It didn't answer all her questions. A thousand more remained unanswered. But she would take her time to answer them. In time.
" Come, child. Lets go downstairs. "
" Can I stop smiling? I don't feel like smiling. I don't mind talking, but I can't smile. "
" Dawn, no one ever expected you too. Laugh when you want to and cry when you want too. That's part of being human."
The little girl nodded once again.
" Come, lets go."
" You go ahead. I'll be down in a minute."
Her grandmother nodded, kissed her forehead and left the room.
The little girl sat on the edge of the bed for another minute, looking out her window. The rain had died down to a light drizzle.
From her bed, she could see that the sun was beginning to shine through her window. She took it as a sign.
She got off her bed, walked to the door. She took one last look out her window, switched off the lights, and closed the door.
The End.
