Alexandria
On the arise of Christmas spirit, my mood towards Noah has been completely dropped and forgotten. Right now, I'm sitting on my bed at 8pm just listening to music on my pale blue beats pill. While I'm checking out my room, on my desk I spot an old photo album that I created shortly after my dad had died.
As I begun to stand up, Kelly Clarkson's song 'Piece by Piece' had begun to play which only brought out the wound and memories of my father's death stronger than ever. Slowly, I had begun to take shaky steps towards my little white desk where the grey scrapbook album stands out from the rest which only forces my focus to remain glued on it like a hawk watching its prey while I wonder about all of the pictures and cherish moments that can tell stories and bring me along with my family back to life.
Gently, I take hold of the album and cautiously sit back down on my soft bed with it in my strong grip while staring at it so intensely as if it held the answers to life and to everything else. Quickly, my breaths speed up and I try to clam down by counting the second.
1,2,3,4,5 seconds.
1,2,3,4 seconds.
1,2,3 seconds.
1,2 seconds.
Nothing is helping my anxiety that came in an unbearable wave with the album but I can't put the scrapbook down, not now. As my adamant mindset grows to one of great magnitude, I hastily fling open the album and stare at the first picture that I glued in the other year.
I can't stop staring at them. The happiness. The love. Everything in this picture. I can't help but wonder 'where did it all go wrong' as I stare at the happy mother who holds a little baby and is being kissed by her grinning husband. I stare at the life in her eyes and the happiness that my father is shedding onto her.
He loves me
Piece by piece he restored my faith
That a man can be kind and a father could stay...
The photograph begins to blur as a single teardrop falls onto the black scrap paper. When the one tear turns into streams and sobs, I turn the page to see my father staring at the camera while beaming his usual smile as he holds a messy toddler version of myself and a ten year old Noah in a giant and warm embrace seeping his love through the photo and into my heart.
With tears streaming down my face, I flipped a few pages until I got to my favourite photograph with papa in. It was on my thirteenth birthday when I got a big party and it was of me and my father dancing. I was stood on his feet and he led me around the dance floor without a care about how heavy I would be on his feet meanwhile looking at me with pure adoration and happiness. Not only was it the purest thing I have ever seen but it's also a chuckle worth photograph as you can see the twenty-one year old Noah grinning in the bottom left corner of the photograph as if he's taking a picture of himself but in reality it was of my father and I.
Staring at the picture with tears falling in a synchronised motion, I let out a bittersweet chuckle. As I was gently smiling down at my scrapbook, I notice that Noah walks in with an expression of pure sadness and concern.
I don't say anything to him but I gently beckon him over to me. He does as told and perches himself next to be on my bed while taking a peek at the photographs on the black card. When he catches sight of the photo that he took four and a half years ago, he beams down at my choice of a photograph. As I stare up at him, I catch a glint of a tear in his eye but it never falls. The stubborn arse.
As I was intently staring at the ghostly memory, there was a sudden but softly timid knock on my door. When the sound faintly echoed through the piercing silence, I snapped my head up to only see Selena stood in my door way. Upon seeing her, my brother excused himself out.
YOU ARE READING
Tragic Escape
Teen FictionWho is Alexandria Island? He is Lucia Romez. Everyone know him but not his story. No one remembers her but they know of her story. What happens when these two contrasts clash yo create a story that could change ones' lifetime?
