Our World

Sometimes I like to close my eyes. Let still black caress my vision. Escape from a world of money, cheaters, responsibilities, irresponsible people and the never ending search for this eternal vision of a perfect happiness, that I'm not so sure exists. Be still. Be nothing but a steady heart beat in an empty universe. Yet the reality is that you've got to open them again.

You've got to face the next blow like a fighter. You've got to learn how to laugh, cry and work all at the same time. You've got to embrace our diplomatic, modern world, created by tireless generations of humanity, each succeeding to make the world both a better and worse place each time. You would think that after wars, endless cycles of poverty and abuse and countless other man-explored disasters that we would begin to learn from our mistakes. Not just see but observe what we have done and attempt to fix the natural systems that we have broken because we fiddled with them too much.

But we are a growing, mass producing society, not a learning one. What do I know anyway, I'm only a child. A speck of innocence that will be admired for a time, before I am cast aside to the crowd of greed, craziness and murder, when the world gets tired of a clean-handed soul, devoid of true sin. That is why I write now. So that I can speak my opinions on paper before I have the chance to drown in the beliefs of others and confuse the constant welter of media, illusion and reality until I am truly mad. At least now I still have some purity intact, but the world is beginning to steal from younger and younger children, until one day I believe innocence will truly be lost our world. Remind me to saviour it as long as I can. As for you, well, you never got the chance to treasure the upmost wonder and beauty that you possessed.

Sometimes I use anything at arms length to distract myself from the very thought of you, but that's just me selfishly attempting to spare my delicate emotions of the grief your memory inspires. Intense grief, like the weight of our world weighing down upon my open heart. But don't worry my little dreamer, it would be impossible for me to ever forget you. When I was first told of you entering our world, I cried. Not because I was resentful to have a baby sister or scared that you would steal my parents attention away from me forever. Really, I knew that wouldn't happen. I cried because you meant change. And truthfully, there's nothing that a young child hates more than change.

Though stubbornly hesitant at first, I soon fell in love with everything about you. From your wondrous curiosity, to simply those wide baby eyes that burned with bright embers of faith, imagination, purity and a somewhat ultimate knowledge, that I guess we grow out of as we get older. Our world was nothing but beautiful to you and why shouldn't of been. You knew nothing of the sort that would make otherwise. You had no burdens or heavy loads to carry. You were so perfect and simple. I wish it could have gone on like that forever, but alas, such a creature of perfection as you was not meant to exist on this planet of imperfection. And so, little angel, off you flew. I remember that night in small flashes of colour and emotion, almost as if it were a dream. No not a dream, a nightmare. Heavy rain fell upon our sturdy little home and felt of some importance, content and safe next to the fire. This only provoked my previous drowsiness more, with all that warmth, all that fake security.

You had already been set down to sleep. Looking back on that night now I see how eerily normal it was. A simple, happy family completely unaware of the tragic trail of events that would follow within the coming hour. Mum had left the family room to check on you, as she always did, I coloured in a booklet of images from a cartoon that I rarely watched. Our routine was all in order. There were no signs to suspect that something larger or more out of grasp than anyone or anything had entered our house. But it had and "it's" name was death.

I absentmindedly noticed that Mum had been in your room longer than usual, but I let the thought slip from my attention. A moment later though, I noticed that she has still not returned and the unusual, small sound of fumbling fingers and shallow breathing was becoming more and more evident.

"Mummy..." I called out softly, suddenly strangely shy in my own home.

But she did not answer. I was about to call out again when a delicate, panic stricken voice beckoned my father from his study to join her. At that moment i only knew one thing for certain and that was that the voice that had struggled, barley alive to my ears, was not the one of my mothers. My mother's voice was strong, warm and as familier as my appearance in the mirror. What I just heard was anything but. Immediately a wave of panic flooded my system and a lump formed in my throat, a lump so large and firm that for the first time I'm my life breathing seemed more luxurious than any gold. My heart felt as if someone was crushing it to a pulp and I burned holding back tears until I could have sworn I held hell in my eyes. I had never felt so much pain.

And then, I was in the car, you on Mums lap, while I stared up into the blurring, multicoloured glow of passing street lights as I prayed frantically for you, for Mum, for Dad, for me. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks until my lips were chapped with salt. Then we were at the hospital, a fluster of tears and panic. It mocked my torture with all it's white, calmness and cleanliness when everything in my life was the exact opposite. I really knew as soon as Mum opened her mouth that you were gone, but the burden of hope tricked me into half believing that you actually stood a chance against reality. I still don't know exactly know what stole your precious life. Something about sleeping in a strange position...you stopped breathing. But no matter what anyone told me, in that time, at that age, your death was impossible. It destroyed me. I cannot tell you how many days we've all spent mourning over you. We still do. I wrote this to let you know that I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything to save you. You were so helpless and death took advantage of that. Maybe it's actually a good thing that you died oblivious to what our world is truly capable of. I hope wherever you are now is better than here. I want you to know that you're still in my life everyday even though you're gone and you'll still be here even in my maddest, most guilty days. I love you my little dreamer. My sister. You were always to good for our world.

Author:

Hi wattpad readers, my name is Izzy, I'm twelve years old and my dream is to become an author! I have been trying to challenge myself to explore more personal topics in my writing and would love you to help turn this experience into a learning one by commenting any mistakes or things that I could improve on. Please don't hold back just because I'm young! Hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to vote! (I know my first story on wattpad wasn't the cheeriest, but I can write happier stories on here for you if you want. Comment!)