The Next World Crisis

Chapter 4

As I approached the forest I couldn't hear anything except for a distant humming in my ears.
I sat down on the damp ground and relaxed my muscles. Stretching, I put my hands behind my head and lay down. Staring above me the forest looked so peaceful. So innocent.

I finally reached my bag, simply lying there like a lost puppy. The strange thing was that as I came up to grab it, I sensed that sense that every story has. The feeling of being watched, of being spied on. I hadn't had much experience of living out in the wild, but I had a pretty good idea, a taster session where I couldn't exactly say
'Look mate, it ain't for me, I think I'll pass. Maybe next time.'

I'd been to eight seaside docks, nineteen villages, twenty four towns, three cities, seven farms, and one deserted theme park. The figures were there. The numbers increasing with every disappointed sigh. All empty, all destroyed and all effected by the trauma and chaos. But still I couldn't find my family. But here I was trying and failing.

The sun beat down on my face. I guess there was an upside to being rich. We had a massive and open spaced garden, with a forest on our doorstep. 'Phoebe sweetie, would you be so kind as to set the table?' I heard my father's voice from inside, happier than usual. Phoebe always was the sensible one. The kind and benevolent older sister. And I was the juvenile disappointment. 'You're not going to like what I've got to tell you.' He rested his hands on the table.
'You're mother's dead. She had...she had a terrible accident.' I heard Phoebe gasp. And then the sobbing followed. My father sat there sniffling, his eyes red and swollen. I stood up but they barely noticed. I was angry. I felt betrayed that these people in front of me cared. I stormed out and ran down the stairs. I ran past the courtyard full of blossoming flowers and the elegant benches. I ran past the beautifully decorated fountains and the overly expensive bushes. My eyes were filling up. Tears falling down my face. Why was I crying!? I didn't care! My bunches bounced on my shoulders, the bows in them straining to be pulled out. My sweet little dress was covered in mud and my small and innocent face had been replaced with a crying nine year old having a tantrum. I wasn't crying for the mum I had. I was crying for the mum I could of had. The one I put up with in hope for change. But now that hope was gone forever and I was left with the memories of a mother who didn't care a bit. As I came to the border of our forest I waited and waited, tears still streaming. And then I sprinted in, the wind rushing past me. Taking my stupid feelings with it.

Vote and comment

Julia⭐❇