The rain capered effortlessly off the window-panes of the rumpus room. The fire blazed like a reassuring friend. George lay next to my large hand-made bowl of hot cocoa, his kind face covered in biscuit crumbs. I was reading Where The Wild Things Are for the 50th time. I always secretly wanted to be Max, alone on that wooden boat in the sea... embracing the wildness of life and being king to care-free creatures. Being myself in an acceptable way. Acceptable to society.
My blanket was warm against my skin. This blanket had seen many tears; as had this room. My room. My kingdom. The shelf made from a plank of wood that we found on the beach in a storm. The rag rug that grandma found in the back of a shop in Peru. The wind chimes hanging from the roof... the turret who's glass let in the starlight. The secret stash of cookies under my poster bed. The flickering candles in nooks and crannies and the Nag Champa incense swirling around the room. The cold floorboards that heated up quickly from the flames.
There was music on. Slow melancholy music, that entered the heart with bold motions. I closed the book and went over to the window. A car pulled up, rain splashing every where. The driver got out and ran across the street. Perhaps to visit a friend. A friend. An actual human friend. I went back to reading and lost myself. The pages turned, the story progressed. The story I knew so well. So so well.
"And it was still hot..."
I looked up at the ceiling, staring out the glass and into the rain and sky. Some helium balloons bobbed about inside the turret. Also my friends.. I guess. It was getting hot so I decided to have a bath. I walked up the stairs and was met by Q, the cat so I scooped him up and progressed with my duties.
As I hit the cool sheets and closed my eyes, dreams came easily. Dreams of dragons and rice fields, rivers and mountains, cats and masks. Dreams of friends, friends, friends...
The rain didn't stop for a second that night.
YOU ARE READING
What She Wrote
Beletrie"I know what they say. You don't have to hide it. I'm weird, dangerous even; to you. I don't agree, but I understand. Why do you judge me so quickly? Why do you smirk and point? I don't deserve it..." Samantha is no ordinary girl. No one at school t...
