This is a short 1000 word piece I wrote for a competition a while ago, it didn’t win anything, lol, but I thought I’d share it anyway. It’s about a young child whose parents are complete opposites, a few steps away from a divorce. Hope you like it xxx
“It’s going to be alright.” She smiles, warmth spreads around, engulfing me with her presence. A bright character, my mother; refreshing and vibrant, a face as fresh as morning dew. She always tells me it’s going to be alright. I used to believe it. Placing her hand in mine, she gazes at me; squinting up at her, I try a smile. Moments pass between us, until all I see is her shimmering hues, red, orange and yellow, like the flickering flames of the sun. I seem to lose myself entirely in her eyes before she speaks again.
“I love you, darling,” her words drip with blissful grace. Too blissful. She is summer. Eloquently absorbed by the greener side of life, she truly makes me wonder sometimes, if it just might be possible to be blinded by your own light. I blink twice and look away. Our rusty fireplace sits lifeless in ashes. It has no spark in it anymore. Our living room shelf is cluttered with old books and ornaments covered in layers of dust. Dark oak as tall as the ceiling, everything scattered here and there, pages ripped and worn. It’s seen better days. Each adornment holds memories from the old times, laughter and smiles. On the edge is a crystal ball I won at the summer carnival a while back; it’s white sheen – the only life left on that shelf, everything else seems dead.
Sighing deeply, I drop her hand and go to the kitchen. He’s reading a newspaper. I sit opposite him. Furrowed brows and upturned curved lips, every crease in his face wilts. He hasn’t noticed me yet. A tranquil soul, my father. He is winter. Smiling whenever he’s not sleeping; he has a brilliant grin, always catches the light. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that smile. I remember our playful pillow fights – I’d dodge one or two hits, but he’d always beat me in the end, fluff would fly everywhere like falling snowflakes. He looks up with his deep blue eyes, I can see a fractured reflection of myself in them.
Footsteps shuffle behind me. The warmth of mother’s presence soon dies away. Chilly is the atmosphere now as she sits across from me, as far away from him as possible without being too far from me. I start to shiver. I don’t look at either of them, my eyes take me somewhere else, anywhere else. On our kitchen windowsill is the family lava lamp that he bought for her when they first moved in. A symbol of their love, he said. I scoff. I glare at the individual hot bubbles of oil as they rise and fall in the lava water. Two completely different liquids trapped in the same beautiful glass lamp. I loathe the oil for never mixing with the water, or the water with the oil; but there’s no chance it’ll ever break the rules of chemistry. Close my eyes; take me somewhere even further away.
I remember in winter, when we’d snuggle up together in front of the fire. Its flicker of red, orange and yellow dancing around us, giving us warmth and light in the dark. I remember the restless summer nights when it was too hot to sleep. We’d stay up late while he told outrageous ghost stories, his voice making me forget the uncomfortable heat. Then his goodnight kisses, cold on my skin, would tickle my nerves, numbing my senses to my surroundings.
“Are you alright, sweet pea?” a low grumble, husky and coarse awoke me. I’m here again. I look up, our eyes create pathways of invisible words. He’s pleading with me; I shake my head. I remember the way he’d wrap his woolly scarf around me. Little did I know then what I know now. He’d wrap and wrap the lies around my neck, giving me comfort and warmth. Every broken piece of him hidden in the creases and folds, all buried away. I’ve grown out of it now. I can see every last bit of him scattered beneath me.
“What’s wrong?” her melodious voice almost worked its charm on me again. I shake it off, her words can’t fool me, and her light won’t blind me anymore. She can’t gloss over the truth forever; her light is fading. He tries to hide it, but I know he’s falling apart. They’re both trapped. Trapped in each other’s insanity, and it – it’s my fault.
‘Never say that.’ His words frosty cold, prickling my skin, and my anger subsides momentarily. I shudder, regaining focus.
I’ve unravelled all of the folds and more and more the truth is revealed. They’re imprisoned in my presence, both fighting to be the best of the best for me. Neither willing to let go. It’s all for me, they say, so I’ll grow up right. They don’t understand – I’m torn down the middle. In their eyes, it’s ‘the right thing to do.’ How ironic, that everything right now has never felt quite so wrong in my life.
She’ll cry rivers, flooding hours of life away but he’d freeze it over, making every second last ten times longer. He’ll try to mend the pieces, each fracture as fragile as ice, but she’d melt them down again. The cycle never ends – constant bicker, constant uproar of anything – it never ends. Why? Because they never began. It wasn’t ‘I love you’ from the start. More like ‘You’re the father, let’s just move in together.’ Both wanted to be there for me, to keep me happy and whole. But they’ve just broken themselves; and now me too.
I choke on my breath. I let the tears roll down.
It’s odd, the way the seasons pass by. You always end up keeping warm in winter and cooling down in summer. I can’t have one without the other. But the seasons won’t ever change for me.
Hollow of hope, I stare at them both. Can’t they see? It won’t ever snow in summer.
❤
LittleMissZen 
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