Gliding unhealthily down the big white slopes, sharply cutting through the cold air while leaving soon to be, untraceable marks in the snow. Chelsea on the left of me speeding down the hill with a worried terrified look on her face as if to say, ‘Omg this is fun, but when will it be over? I’m going to wet myself!’ Not paying attention I realise I have started to slow before abruptly coming to a halt in a vast galley on nothing but white. In the distance over another small hill I can see that same chairlift, Chelsea and I once rode on. She slows down and stops pretty close to me a sharp useless look on her face, she says nothing but just looks around, absorbing every camera angle like she is taking pictures in her head so she will never forget.
Walking back towards the hotel after a day of learning to ski, more like a day of moving and falling, moving and falling, over and over again, countless times the group walked back through the dark polished doors of the resort. We all wearily walked back to our rooms dragging our feet. Anxious I look over to where that strange man was standing, he was gone. Feeling relieved because he was not there but scared because I didn’t know where he was, I had a fear in me I had never felt before. I don’t know why exactly but it eat away at the back of my spine all afternoon, especially when I promised Chelsea I would makes us dinner by myself. It’s not that I didn’t want to make dinner for Chelsea; it’s just that I didn’t want to be alone doing it. Still I put my fear behind and walk down the long narrow corridor, where that light is still hopelessly flickering. I walk into the kitchen, grab the same to round bowls we used for breakfast, did a quick round of washing up and poured a large can of baked beans evenly between the two bowls, put them in the microwave and got started with the toast. I just casually start humming and then can’t help myself but dance. It all stops though when I hear a sharp noise, enough to make me drop the butter knife I’m holding. I turn around and see the guy staring at me. I can’t move, I can’t scream. I don’t know what to do. The toast pops with a ping sound and I slide my hand behind my back to get it out of the old grey toaster. I can’t find where the toast is so I turn around quickly to grab it, turn back around to check the man is still where he was, and he is gone, I can’t see him anywhere. Although all I want to do is run back to my brother and hide under his bed, I can’t. I have to finish tea. I think to myself ‘tomorrow night, Chelsea is making tea.’ I place the warm baked beans and toast on a tray and hasten back to my room. Walking so fast I’m almost running. Opening our door so fast I make Chelsea jump up while she if reading her favourite book ‘forgotten by cat Patrick’ she jumps up and yells, “Jesus Christ!” not caring about anything I reply “yeah, whatever.” I grab my bowl of baked beans and toast, thump down on my bed and face the window. Chelsea says with a hint of concern in her voice “okay… thank you for making dinner anyway Hun.” Softly I simply add “you’re welcome.”
A few hours after dinner it is now 8:45, I’m flipping through pages of my latest girlfriend magazine when all of a sudden I feel a familiar but un-welcome feeling in my stomach, I’m going to be sick. I jump off my bed, and run towards our bathroom, Chelsea now looking rather worried about me, she slowly follows behind me into the bathroom and looks at me as I am chucking up in the toilet. In panic she says “im going to go get Mr Pridgeon, I’ll be right back sweetie.” And with that she is gone. Im left alone chucking my uts up in the cold white toilet bowl while the hard wooden floor is killing my knees. A few seconds later she comes racing back in with Mr Pridgeon by her side, he looks at my face which is now as white as the snow outside. He feels my forehead which is hotter than the sun at the moment, yet has sweet running down my head, and circling on my the base of my small earlobes. He looks down in the toilet bowl, which makes me wonder why anyone would want to spend time looking at someone else’s half decomposed second hand food. Still, he observes on for a few seconds before announcing that I go to bed and not go out tomorrow, he demands consistently that I stay in bed the whole day tomorrow so I am better for the rest of the trip. Reluctantly, with a loud sigh, I agree. With sadness In his voice he says “I will be in to check on you in the morning before the group leaves to go skiing for the day.” I reply simply “okay.” He turns and looks at Chelsea once more and walks out of our door, shutting it rather loudly behind us. I turn to look at Chelsea but before I can I feel that same ghastly feeling again and have to bury my head in the toilet. Chelsea adds sarcastically “well this is going to be a joyful night, lol” “oh yeah it’s going to be frigging amazing” I say with a hint of frustration about the whole situation. I stand up from the toilet and flush the toilet, have a glass of water, and Chelsea caringly walks me over to my bed with the most adorable puppy-dog faced look to cheer me up. She has always been the most caring person in my life, I thought to myself as I fling the blankets over my legs. I re-open the magazine I was reading from earlier and find the page on ‘winter fashions’ I thought it was quite appropriate after where I am at the moment, I chuckle to myself when I see a picture of a girl wearing socks and thongs. That’s always fascinated me, that question that lingers in my head coming back from time to time, ‘why were socks if you’re going to wear thongs? Or why were thongs if you’re going to wear socks? Arghhh its all too confusing… or stupid” I mutter to myself. Looking over at Chelsea she has already hit the hay, she is half laying on her bed but half laying on the floor, her head is turning blood red from loss of circulation to other parts of her body. For a second I find it quite amusing and start to cackle evilly, I realise what im doing and shut up immediately. Struggling down deep under my covers I lay my head down and close my eyes, and start to lose myself as I drift off to sleep.
Groggily hearing a faint voice I widen my eyes unwillingly open and look up. Where I expect to see the ceiling I see Mr Pridgeon and Chelsea are hovering above me, looking down at my hot, burning head, they look at each other and both start to say at the same time “Tammi, we think its better if you stay and ret today so you are able to come out tomorrow, healthy and well. You’ve obviously caught a bug on our travels here.” I look at up him disappointed and say “fine, ‘ill stay in bed today.” They both walk slowly out of the room and when Chelsea gets to the door, just before she closes it with a squeak, she says softly “I will be back later today to make us dinner, have a fun day sweetie.” She pulls the door to a squeaky shut, put my head back down on the pillow and my eyes draw to a close.
© Copyright 2016 sweet agony xo. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
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