Short Stories

Can I go home now?

'Belonging can distort one's identity' was the prompt for this piece, and it was based upon Wild Cat Falling by Mudrooroo, an Australian Aboriginal.

This was written for my English SAC

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As my fingers interlace with his, the muscles in my body relax. I hold my head high, and laugh loudly beside his strong figure. Our steps coincide with each other's, our feet trailing us towards his abode. The sun is quick to disappear, and I wrap my arms around my shivering frame. Before unlocking the door, the noise from inside is obvious; fun is being had and I am eager to join. Inside, his mates are waiting, laughing loudly, with a cloud of opaque smog enveloping them. "James!" They all holler, throwing arms around in welcoming. James is quick to usher me towards the exit to this room, but I am quick to introduce myself to these unfamiliar individuals. I know his mates occupy their time with illegal substances but I was never intent on joining in on their activities, I reassured James. His hand moves from mine, and his jaw tenses. I place my hand on his waist, and step towards the lounge room. There is no harm in socializing. 

The night falls quickly and I hold onto every minute. My mother was adamant of my return before midnight, but after James indulged in alcohol a few hours ago, my hitch home seemed unlikely. Alcohol was his release, and mine was him. I know he isn't a bad kid, and at least it wasn't the same white powder that finds it's way into his friend's systems. I feel my positive energy reverberating from each of the visitors here. James says they're good kids as well.

"Come on, mate!" James' mate nags. She was insistent that the night could only improve if James joined in on their smoking party. I was nonplussed as to why they were so sure he should be getting on it like them; he was so sure he had never done anything of the sorts. By the looks on the guests face's and the intoxicated state of my boyfriend, the outcome of the situation had an unclear finish. I yank at his shirt like a young child, attention on me, "can you take me home now?" He seems to slightly sober up at the question, but simultaneously glances at the tinny in his hand. I assure him it's okay, and I attempt to redirect the conversation from his mates, who're on their way to the quiet stage of being stoned. I ask to be walked home, but James seems displeased by such a question, understandably. His house is somewhat secluded, and a decent way away from my own apartment complex. 

I follow the gang, their banter exclusive to their group. Shadows of five people surround my own small reflection; blending with the friends of James, and he himself. The comfort I felt with James has become stretched between the people he feels comfort with. The street lights illuminate our path, we are almost halfway to my place. I enjoy the light, I say. They all agree the dark is better.

My feet fall out of step with the others, their arms swing in one clean motion together. My eyes dart around the streets, they stopped assuring me this was a safe path moments ago, and the concern has settled deep in my gut. I now doubt their words, the look of the neighbourhood speaking volumes louder than their wavering murmurs. I think about my warm bed, and push through the trek, only noticing the shadows of the mysterious animals briefly, before overanalysing and moving closer to the animals I thought I felt safe with.

With a single clap of their hands, one of James' friends has begun to recreate a scene from a movie. The gang form a single file. I am quick to voice my concern, and quicker to be hushed. Their pace speeds up, and soon my short legs struggle to follow in their footsteps. My location is unknown, I am only able to blindly follow, and as I do, my body moves in unnerving waves. Our footfalls make no sound and all  that breaks the eerie silence is the crack of the glass in front of my eyes. James huddles me behind him, his body is emitting icy waves, contrasting and combining with my own body's warmth. The air turns cold, the smirk on James' face widens and the group bloody their hands with shattered glass, and confidently climb into this house; a brick wall separating myself from them. My body becomes stiff, my mind slowly processing the situation. James attempts to pull me through the opening, but the moment the cold glass caresses my soft skin, I turn and run.

My phone weighs my back pocket down, with no charge left - it's as useless as my boyfriends reassurance that he would be sensible, that he was not like the gang he associated himself with. My salty tears burn a path out of my makeup, with a clear destination in mind. A feeble call from the break in site echoes around the block, triggering the sirens of an undercover police wagon on my right hand side. My speed counteracts the vehicle, and no notice is taken of me, and my shadow that blends into the night skies.

The sirens awaken the houses, curtains open, and profanities could be heard within a 10 kilometre radius. My feet lead me into the distance, my feet searching for the soft cushioning of the grass. The trees are quick to surround me, and their arms extend in a welcoming. I had not noticed the blood on my fingertips, but as it trickles delicately towards the ground, I can only express my deepest apologies towards the animals that taste the metallic liquid amongst their feeds in the forest. I can only wish they can forgive me. I can only understand I am intruding their homes, and for that I must understand, it is my time to go home.

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*July2016