Rooftop

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes you wish you could be someone else.

Submitted: December 18, 2016

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Submitted: December 18, 2016

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You once stood high high high up on a rooftop. You were scared of heights so what for others may have been high high high up, for you it was really very high high high up. Your hands were sweaty, so sweaty and cold, clammy and you had a weird feeling in your stomach, quivering. But nonetheless you stood there on this metallic rooftop, with its railing coloured in chipped-off red paint. The paint was getting under your fingernails because you were holding on too tightly. Red rusty paint under beautifully manicured, yellow polished fingernails. Shouldn’t they turn orange?

Heights had never done you any good. You had told so everyone who had tried to persuade you to go up on this rooftop. But you gave in, because you always gave in, had you ever really not given in? And look were it landed you. A pounding heart, shaking knees, windswept hair was sticking to your neck and lipstick. They would mock you, you were sure of it. They would mock you if you turned around and fled from this godforsaken rooftop. You would let them see that you were, in fact, weak, and that would be reason enough for them to mock you. You looked up at the sky that was slowly turning dark , a clear cloudless sky, but you still couldn’t see the stars. Not even this really very high high high up. Maybe it wasn’t that high up if you couldn’t see the stars?

You dared to look down for confirmation. Even before you looked down you had known that this wouldn’t be a good idea. Tiny little toy cars moving as if gigantic invisible children were playing with them and ant-like human beings scurrying around. You felt bile rise up your throat and quickly closed your eyes trying to calm yourself down. How you hated this! You imagined yourself turning around and staring the people behind you down, a confident smile on your ruby red lips. You imagined the wind picking up making your dress billow around your knees. You imagined the white roses printed on your dress stretching themselves out and curling themselves around your legs and arms creating a thorny shield. You imagined a particularly strong gust of wind lifting your high heel-clad feet off the ground. You imagined yourself as light as a feather turning and twirling gracefully in the air looking into the shocked faces of the people, who were still standing on the rooftop. You imagined yourself flying away from them down to where the city lights were still twinkling orange and white and yellow. The strong smell of cigarette smoke suddenly filled your nose and made you open your eyes. Some guy next to you had started to smoke. You sighed. This was who you were. Small and scared and freezing and weak. You weren’t some flying goddess. You turned around and walked across to the door leading to the stairs. You passed everybody who was standing there talking and drinking and having a good time. You opened the heavy door and let it shut behind you.


© Copyright 2020 Mona15. All rights reserved.

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