Holly Dalvin is tired of her suffocating life, and decides to leave her dysfunctional family, failing grades and bullying peers behind. For good. While laying on Purslane Station's rundown train tracks, Holly comes face to face with the notorious He...
Disclaimer:This book contains some strong language and references to suicide.This is a work of fiction. Thoughts and feelings expressed by the character(s) are not the author's own. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and actual events is purely coincidental. Please do not cite or replicate the written material without permission. Light. Copyright 2017 Olleyana Rozana. All rights reserved.
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Reading books didn't bring me peace like it once did. I remember forgoing sleep until I finished a whole book, but now I only looked forward to when I'd put in earphones and dance. I wasn't a great dancer, but it made me feel free.
I brought my attention back to the book and re-read the line. There were the calls of hunger; and Silas, in his solitude, had to provide his own breakfast, dinner, and supper, to fetch his own water from the well, and put his own kettle on the fire; and all these immediate promptings helped, along with the weaving, to reduce his life to the unquestioning activity of a spinning insect. Mum dropped a plate in the sink, and I jumped at the sound. This was why I didn't read in the kitchen. I sighed and closed the book, leaving Silas to his fate. I didn't bother marking the page I was on.
Recalling the melody of an instrumental song I heard yesterday, I closed my eyes and imagined myself pirouetting with perfect form, then rolling into a somersault. Ballet and dance had always intrigued me, but classes were too expensive, so I never joined one. Mum did say she'd been saving recently though, so could there be a chance for me to join now? I took a deep breath and found some courage.
"Mum, do you think I could maybe join a dance class?"
"Dance? Why'd you want to do that? You won't get anywhere with it," Mum said as she diced peppers. I looked down at the scuffed ends of my boots. She was right, there weren't many career paths for a dancer. I hesitated a moment before answering her.
"I don't know. I like dancing, so I was just thinking about it," I replied quietly. What more could I say? University was the stable option, but I didn't want to study anymore. A Levels were mentally killing me already and a degree would probably finish the job. Mum shook her head and briskly walked past, dropping some peppers on the dining table in front of me. I picked up a piece and squeezed it until juice trickled down my fingers.
"Focus on school, Holly, not these pointless things. It's bad enough that you're always reading books that have nothing to do with your exams."
I rolled my eyes in answer and unconsciously stroked the hardback cover of Silas Marner. No Nineteen-year old read George Eliot's books for fun, apart from me, Mum. I actually liked reading classics, another reason why I was isolated at school. I'd rather stay in the library reading. For some reason, I always understood what the writer was trying to say. Like how Eliot showed through Silas, that being alone too much could turn you into a machine.
