Nick's Creative Writing Blog: June 2015

“I don’t think this is the right way” I thought.

The winding road circled on ahead, curving and bending in and out of the tall, grey trees. The monotonous green encompassed everything but the dirty road. Birds chirped and cawed all around, the cries echoing off the surrounding trees and rocks. There were sounds, yet there was an absence of noise. What I heard was just ambiance, the sounds of my surroundings. It was there, but at the same time it wasn’t.

It wasn’t until the birds stopped squawking, and the leaves stopped rattling, that I realized how truly alone I was. It was peaceful in an eerie sense. I was completely alone, away from everyday troubles, but this isolation presented new troubles.

“How will I get out?”

“What if something happens to me?”

I continued down the path, hoping I would finally break through the dense treeline, into an open field, or a lake, or even the clearing on the side of the road where I had left my car to go into the forest.

Hours passed and as far as I knew I was just getting farther from where I needed to be. As the time passed I became increasingly worried.

The sound was what hit me first. The slow trickling of water. Next was the smell of plants, different from the aroma that had been surrounding me this whole time. The trees started to thin out and I could see the bright clouds at the end. I walked through the treeline and saw the sparkling stream I had seen so long ago. About a hundred yards away was the spot I had parked my car.

I made it.

The wispy fog drifted in the breeze, hanging atop the placid water. The small motor propelled the steel haven silently across the water. This was exactly why he decided to wake up early, and prepare for his voyage this morning. The perpetual rippling mapping out his path through the shimmering water.

His line grew rigid, and began to pull from the boat. A clicking filled the air as line was pulled from the reel. The red and white ball was no longer floating atop the water but was now submerged being pulled deeper and deeper below the surface. He grabbed the handle, and spun the reel in circles, trying to pull the beast closer to him. The battle had just begun, it would rage on, back and forth. He would bring it closer, then the scaly monster would yank the line away. All progress by both of them would be wiped away. As the conflict dragged on, it became less of a battle of strength. Instead the winner would be the one with the most endurance. They would both leave the battle drained of energy.

He began to make some progress, bringing it in. It was still putting up a fight, but he was winning. He slowly pulled it towards his vessel, and at last could see the creature he was fighting. A massive fish loomed below the surface, his hook piercing its lips. He dropped in the net and lifted the beast out of the water. It flopped across the steel floor. He held it down, removed the hook, and let it flop around against the steel. at the end of all of this he released it back into the water, and was left with nothing but a picture, and a feeling of triumph.

The large stone home sat on hundreds of acres, consisting of rolling fields, and a large pond surrounded by tall trees and lively greenery. Tennis courts, walking paths, pools, and smaller cabins covered the estate. It was the high life, the one everyone envied. The kind of lives that filled the dreams of many. The high life.

Days of horseback riding, fast cars, private jets, or anything else that appealed to the family. Money was never a worry. It was never brought up, never talked about. There were never questions about how much there was. It was just there.

Everything from the meals served, the china, to the silverware was immaculate. The manor was spotless, the grounds well maintained. The hedgework perfect, without a stray branch, or leaf. The grass trimmed short, yet was still a rich green, and was thick. The ponds were crystal clear, shimmering in the sunlight. Benches and stonework covered the property. Crafted perfectly, they were free of any chipping or weathering.

A life like this is perfect, right? Anyone would want to be a part of this family? Money is chased ruthlessly all over the world, but is it enough? The family living in this astonishing estate could buy anything, except the one thing they needed. Happiness.

An abusive husband was unable to control his anger, and took it out on his wife, and children. His spouse was now diagnosed with depression. She was mentally unstable, and was always medicated just to feel normal. Her daughter had found her pills one day, and is now abusing them, reaching for the same escape. Her drug abuse got worse and worse until she reached a point where she was spending thousands a day just to feel normal. Her brother had started acting out. Hanging out with the wrong people. He had been arrested two times before he turned fifteen. Money couldn’t buy him a better life.

The soft sandy beach was pushed between my toes. The miniscule particles giving way under my footsteps made it significantly harder to run, but still I was trying. My arms were swinging by my side, not in a dangle, but helping to propel me forward. The balls of my feet pushing off as hard as they could, but ending up simply pushing the sand beneath them. The world slowed down as I flew through the air. My eyes following in slow motion, then I felt it in my hands. They clenched around it and it was now mine. What goes up must come down. My chest and arms were the first to crash down into the soft bed of sand, like the waves breaking in the background. My knees and legs followed, sliding forward on impact. The sand burned my legs, and sprayed all over my body, in my hair, and on my clothes. It didn’t matter though. Nothing else mattered. The only thing that mattered right now was the object in my hands.

There it was, the contents her life throughout the past year, in one tiny object. Wound up in a tiny black tape which looked like it could do nothing, let alone hold memories of a whole year of somebodies life. The small little disc, with SONY across the top, held so much importance to her. It described her happiness, all of the good times, all of the laughter and smiles of the past year. It contained all of the good memories. It contained both the good and the bad. All of the tears shed, the times she sat there hating herself. The good days and the bad all sat inside. This small tape had power. It was able to paint a story. But it could also be manipulated. It could make her look depressed, hating her own life, or it could make her seem like the happiest person in the world, never having a bad day. When it was played through it told the listener one thing. She was human.