The scene was as follows: The sun was a small orb high in the great sky. It's heat beat down on everyone, giving a relaxed feel, while a very slight cool breeze, caused the trees to sway slightly in the wind.
Families sat on picnic mats, which covered most of the small layer of stones that turned quickly into generous lengths of sand. They ate happily, laughing over silly things.
On the sand, hundreds of children laughed and shouted as they found clear spots to build their mighty castles upon.
The beach gave way to the great sea, a perfect inviting blue, in which people splashed swam and generally had fun.
There was a constant background sound of anxious mothers shouting things like- "Jimmy, come back here, I still need to put your suntan lotion on," and, "don't swim out to far, you need to keep an eye on your sister." which almost but not quite blocked out the soothing sound of the sea rushing in and out, in and out.
Where the beach ended, great chalk cliffs stretched out, behind almost oversized rock pools, which children of all ages climbed over to explore.
It was an enjoyable scene, but one that was being watched. Hidden in a cave, behind piles of rocks, a girl of about 12 was sitting with her legs curled up to her chest.
Lily was short for her age, and would probably have been pretty if not for the fact that she had lived in this cave for almost two weeks. Her once perfectly shaped, bouncy ringlets were pulled back and tied strategically with a broken hair band. Dirty and matted, it was almost impossible to distinguish its original colour (strawberry blonde). Her face was smudged with dirt and black from the fire over which she cooked her food, under the cover of night, and this covered the light freckles, which were sprinkles generously over her nose. She had cuts and bruises covering her body, and her grey eyes stared longingly at the joyful families, now packing their picnics away and lying back to sunbathe, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.
How she wished that she could join them. That her own family were still alive to spend time with her, because above all else, she missed her family. She was forced then to remember the horrible night when it had all gone wrong. And she remembered everything so vividly, that her pain doubled, tripled, quadrupled, and tearing apart her heart. Crystal clear, she remembered the screams of her mother, when she had first discovered the fire in the living room. The fear that had flashed across her fathers face, and the feeling of disbelief and panic that had washed through her, consuming her and pinning her temporarily to her place. She must have only stood there for a matter of seconds, but it had felt like hours before her feet had cooperated and she had moved mechanically to her room.
Once she had reached her room she had paused, and had made the decision she had regretted the most in her whole life. She remembered her dads' screams join her mothers. She hadn't realised he had moved. And all was lost. As she reached the door, she had turned back, observing the house that she had once called home. The fire, she remembered, had spread by then, licking it's way up the wooden banister. She knew she had to get out. Gasping for air, She had unlatched the door and ran as fast as she could, turning her back on her dead parents.
Back in the present her tears were now flooding down her face. As she got up, she threw one last glance at the families, and headed deeper into the cave.
Outside, the sun was beginning to lower, indicating the closing of the day. The last of the swimmers were picking their way bare footed across the painfully large stones, whilst squeezing the salt water out if their hair the best they could. Husbands took down oversized beach umbrellas while their wives herded sleepy young children into cars.
One of the children, an adorable two-year-old boy was sniffling about leaving his sandcastle. He watched his castle disappear from view as his mother picked him up, and let out an almighty wail of distress. The cry was of such pain, although only caused by leaving his castle, that it was as if it touched everyone's hearts. It reached Lily's.
It pulled her out of her glazed daydream enough to realise how much time had passed. She moved closer to the caves mouth. Carefully scanning the area, she calculated that people would be gone within the next twenty minutes, and judging by the watercolour explosion effect sunset, which was now spreading spectacularly, it would be dark not long after that. She drew back into the cave and took a nap.
The 'nap' ended up being a bit more, and when she woke up, she could tell it was quite late at night. Perfect. It meant she would avoid being caught easily. The cave was now pitch black until right at the mouth, so she fell a few times as she made her way out. Then, she stood for a few seconds, admiring her view. The ink black sea gently drew in and out as always. There was no light pollution here. Just the pasty moon, shining down and creating a shaft of light, like a pathway, across glistening water. The sand looked White and perfect, the sea having washed away the evidence of the day's events, and it was peacefully quiet. Calming, she thought.
Quickly picking her way across the stones, she moved over to the pile of driftwood she had created on the first night. It was running low, but would do for now. Perhaps she would go search for more wood later. She took an armful, leaving only the scraps and began to build her fire. She prepared it with a practiced hand, and an urgent one. Eating once everyday kept you alive but certainly didn't keep you satisfied. Then, taking a well-used lighter from her pocket, she lit the fire in as many places as she could. She remembered being given that lighter. It was because they always went camping. Her father had handed it to her when she was eight, saying, "you never know when you'll need one of these." It was one of the few things that she had grabbed before leaving the house.
The wood began to flicker and spark before slowly growing into a larger, much warmer fire. The mystical blue, green flames from driftwood had always intrigued her, somehow absorbing her with fascination. Dancing, it took on a life of it's own. It told a great story of wonder and adventure, of great sorrow and happiness. Captivating.
The fire would now be hot enough to cook on, but not for long. Lily moved quickly. She emptied the soup, stolen yesterday from the local newsagents, in a makeshift bowl and placed it on the fire. Sitting back, she allowed herself just for a moment, to remember her old life.
Right about now, her mother would be telling her to for the last time turn her light out- Lily had always been an avid reader, something she missed doing now. She would be saying goodnight, before turning my lamp her lamp of and going into her own room. And Lily would be safe, happy and loved.
But tonight, she was not going to allow the moisture building up in her eyes to spill over, for crying would not bring her family back. She sniffed hard as she removed the soup from the heat, and began to blow gently on it. No, she would not allow herself any more tears over her lost family.
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so... wat do u think, as always, contructive criticism greatfully recieved,
Carla
xx
