Mind's Eye: Writing Journal

Date Unknown: 1

Warning(s): Bullying

Biting Cold to Melting Warmth

Once again, James had done it. It wasn't the classic, getting slammed into a locker, stealing my lunch money, or punching my books out of my arms. It was much more humiliating, much more painful. I balled up my fists, stomping across the linoleum floor, and walked out of the tall glass doors of the school. Administration was too busy dealing with the chaos to detain me. Down the concrete steps, past the metal fence, onto the sidewalk. As far as they're concerned, I have disappeared. It didn't matter, I just needed to escape. A skinny freak like me didn't belong in school anyway. The school would call my parents and my parents would call the police to try to find me. I was aware I must face consequences, face my life. I just didn't want to do it right at that moment. I tried to focus on where I was going, to silence the more disturbing thoughts, the memories. I walked into the forest, thinking it would be harder to find me there. If I was truly never found, would they care? If I never came back, would they miss me? I decided it didn't matter. I just wanted to be in a place with no people, just me, the trees, the wind, and the dirt beneath me. I felt safe, refreshed. I could breathe. Tears came to my eyes and I started running. Further and further, I went into the trees, going nowhere, somewhere, and everywhere. I pumped my twig legs, nothing but skin and bones. I wanted to go even farther. The crisp air of the groggy autumn morning, smells of moss and dew from last night's rain. With each step, crunching and cracking comes from the twigs and leaves I crush. Not knowing what else to do, I kept running. Just like how eventually my breath ran away from my body, eventually I would have to go back. That looming future ahead, made me want to run to the ends of the Earth. Rapid breaths of cold air burned my lungs. I stopped, feeling my body ache. I looked down at my feet, the tongues of my tired shoes hung out like a panting dog. My white shoe laces were now covered in brown mud. At that moment, I wondered what the hell I was doing. I stood up straight, wiping the sweat from my upper lip. My eyes adjusted to the white light of autumn, overwhelmed by the sight of an old abandoned mansion. It was missing shingles and chipped shutters hung off of the broken windows. Vines used their claws to climb up and tear away the off-white paint. As creepy as an abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere is, I felt strangely comforted. I wondered if this house had been loved once. Where did it's family go? The wind blew roughly, as if pushing me towards the door. The cold bit away chunks of my warmth, one by one. My bones rattled like a hanging Halloween decoration.

"Come in, start a fire, warm up." The mansion beckoned me.

I supposed shelter from the cold wouldn't hurt, no matter how creepy the place is. Even though I said that, deep down I was afraid. I wanted to go home to my warm bed and my dog, Lucy. But, my legs disobeyed my brain. They wandered towards the main entrance. Weathered wooden doors were cracked open, welcoming me. Taking a tentative step forward, I looked inside. A long corridor extended to a broken spiral staircase. The faded rosy carpet was covered in dust, dirt, and everything foul. Cobwebs and dust crowded every corner. Streams of white light made their way through the windows, past the torn curtains. I took a step inside and the door slammed behind me. I told myself it was the wind. Surely ghosts aren't real...if they were, I'm this sure would be a place they'd want to live. In a room to the left, there are dirty, white sheets draped over old furniture. Beside a sheet-covered table, there is a fully stocked hearth. On top of the wooden frame of the fireplace, a box of matches laid open. It almost felt like this secret place was waiting for me. I approached the hearth, seeing a torn sheet hung over a painting above it. I pulled it slowly, mounds of dust dispersing into the air. I threw the sheet to the ground, coughing up the dust I inhaled. The painting depicted a smartly dressed family of four. They looked like they were from the early 1900s. I wondered if it was okay to borrow their living room. I pinched up a match, lit it, and threw it in the hearth. The flame grew and a soft glow filled the room. The air started to defrost. I sat on the dirty carpet, holding my hands out to the heat. The warmth melted away all the anger, worry, fear, and loneliness inside me. I waited there, letting the fire thaw out the frozen blood in my veins. At some point, I ended up falling asleep, like a cat on a snowy morning, curled up in front of the fireplace. Warmed up and dreaming, I had let go of everything.

A/N: This was an old piece that I edited and added on to. I searched and couldn't find a date. I remember it was a description writing warmup for one of my literature classes.