The Island of Broken Readers

A Happy Melody

Have you ever noticed how the world is like a symphony? Every moment in life has its own song, and everything is like an instrument. But that's only if you listen to it the right way. For example, the sounds of cars passing are the bass, it's the background. The sounds of the crickets and birds chirping are the drums. It holds the pulse of the beat of the sound moving around. And all the other excess sounds you hear are the melody. That's what makes every part of the life different, no melody is the same.

The melody here is the sounds of my mother aggressively talking on the phone. I hear her sigh heavily and hang up the phone.   Like most songs, it sets a mood and it also makes a story. I can feel the tension mother gives after being on the phone and let me tell you this is not a cheerful melody. 

She stomps up the stairs, and twists the rusted doorknob then stands in the doorway. Her presences fill the room with a certain feeling of disappointment and an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness runs through me.

"That was my boss on the phone with another complaint from a customer, as if what happened was my fault." Mother shakes her head and gives a heavy sigh.

I stay quiet and silently agree. Even though I know that phone call was probably all mothers fault. 

Mother looks across my lap "Reading again?" She asks as she rolls her eyes while giving a snarky smirk, I'm always reading so she's used to it. 

"Y-y-yes mom," I stammered nervously. Mother ignores me and disappears across the hall into her room. She comes back with a short black dress on, which if you ask my opinion makes her look like a whore.

"I'm going out tonight, don't stay up all night reading." Mother stated and then left the house with a bang. I could tell she was still annoyed by the phone call. Also, she always tells me where she's going unless she's upset.  I don't question it, but frankly, I don't want to know. 

The music dies down and I'm left with the soothing melody of my slow breathing. The storm has left the house and I am left alone with my flowers.

I let my head lean back and my eyes scan the room. I've white bookshelves all around the room going up to the ceiling. I guess something you should really know about me is that I'm a huge book nerd. It helps me get out of my problems and disappear into a different world and pretend like I don't exist. I've been doing this for years now. It's almost a sense of therapy for me. Reading has always been my main hobby, it keeps me quiet and out of trouble. Mainly it was my father who encouraged me to read. We would sit quietly in my room for hours when mom wasn't home. He was the only one in my family who really understood me. And it was soon after those memories were made when father left. Since then nothing has ever been the same.  

While my father was very encouraging of my education and reading, mother, was not. She has always despised those who find enjoyment in reading and she didn't particularly like books either. She always said, " Reading won't do you no good in this world." If you can't already tell she's a very arrogant woman.

My eyes hang heavy over my book, I want to keep reading. The glimmer of the moon coming through my window projects a strong enough light for me to read but not to keep me awake for much longer.  And as the melody in my brain gets quieter, I slowly drift off to sleep.

The next morning I awake to the sounds of Green Day playing from my phone. The time is six thirty-eight, my bus will be here in forty-two minutes. I roll out of bed, the lavender-colored sheets are tangled around me. My feet touch the hardwood floor and I push myself out of bed. I glance over to the overflowed closet of black leggings and various HotTopic t-shirts. I throw on my "I'll be Home Soon" shirt. It's from one of my favorite tv series I wear at least a few times a month, maybe more.