I entered this for the BBC 500 words writing competition.
~Stay Strong, Skye. X .
Emotional pain engulfs you, makes you shiver, and grasps your crimson heart, squeezing it so you can't breathe. The dejection and desolation flows through you just like a meandering river. Emotional pain is despairing, depleting and all encompassing. This pain snatches away all of your reserves leaving nothing but a shell of the person that once was.
“Come on Gracie, what’s your favourite colour?” I say with all the enthusiasm I can muster.
Nothing. I lean back against the wall sighing, tears pricking my eyes. Tribulation floods my body, strangling me in its anguish. The sky was crying outside, matching my pain completely; the perfect touch.
I have always blamed myself for how Gracie dealt with the death of our mother. I have always guided her as her big brother; teaching her the right things such as how to look after herself. But I never taught her how to deal with her feelings. This is why she never talks. It’s my fault.
I remember her at the age of seven. Through sobs and gritted teeth she vowed if I didn’t bring her ‘mummy’ back, she would never talk again. That was two years ago now. She has not spoken a word since.
Sometimes I cannot bear to look at Gracie. She has beautiful soft curls that fall around her face gracefully, sapphire blue eyes that sparkle like the silver stars at night and a genuine smile that shows off her pearly white teeth – just like our mother. That’s why I can’t bear to look at her, my own sister, because she resembles mum so much. Every time I look at her as the endless days blur by, I see my mother. The pain aches and punches me in the stomach.
Gracie and I are coping as best we can, since the death. We have rented a small flat. It does get damp and there is only one bedroom, a toilet and a cramped kitchen but we are managing. I have a part time job at the local pub as well. I can’t afford anyone to look after Gracie so I have to leave her home - I don’t have a choice. It doesn’t pay much but it just about pays off the bills and I have enough to put away 50p a month in a savings account for Gracie.
Gracie means so much to me. I would do anything just to hear her soft and delicate voice again after so long. I remember even begging her, just wanting to hear her say one word. I’ve tried everything. I’ve explained to her how and why our mother died. That it isn’t her fault. That it is okay to talk about how she is feeling. I love her and I just want what is best for her. I really do.
Will my sister speak again? I just have to let the endless days pass by until I can hear her voice again. But for now Gracie will stay silent.
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Short Story / Non-Fiction
Short Story / Non-Fiction
Essay / Horror
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