Entry deleted, sorry!
XxxDo
"He's kind of annoyed." Jake whispered into my nightshirt.
My eyes darted in the direction of sharp bang
The spheres of light the street lamps formed on the sidewalk
racy, haha
XxxDo wrote:uncontainable pandemonium.
The prevailing wind returned, to my dismay, and the loose leaves whirled around my feet. They were jerked upwards, carried high into the overcast ceiling of the city, at the mercy of the horrible weather.
I studied the lampposts. Comparing.
none appeared to be sufficiently inviting,
At least here, as I rested beside a bare metal fence that encircled a rather petite, unfilled fountain, there was enough illumination.
My gaze darted in the direction of sharp bang as I ducked behind the fence,
“My name is Jess Madison Parker.” I whispered, finding comfort in the sound of my own voice.
I'm editing right now.
An onslaught of rain poured down from grey, lurking clouds [s]above me[/s] as lightning bolts stridently lit the sky.
But not today, for I’d made the worst mistake [s]in[/s] of my life.
The rapid flashes were followed by deafening thunder, which rolled in brutal lapses through the darkened sky. I had always envisioned that dreadful events happened when the weather takes a turn for the worst; [s]but[/s] now I reconsider. Perhaps I’ve been mistaken from the start, and, in fact, nature simply mirrors the hateful actions committed by us unruly human beings.
Either way, the weather accurately reflected my life at this moment in time for what it was: a tumultuous and uncontainable pandemonium.
Feeble, [s]rugged[/s] jagged trees stood in the beating curtain of water, their few remaining leaves torn down by the falling rain, sent reeling to the ground to join the heaps that had already drifted to the sidewalk.
The city had seen storms far worse, by all means, but all those times I’d been at home, shielded by the large living room windows as I rested my arms around the shoulders of my little brother and sister.
For the duration of this storm the streets of Semverton city were largely vacant, as people and animals alike sought shelter from the pelting rain. Forlorn cars, passing by at prolonging intervals, were the only signs of life that mended the bridge between me and the human race. I could tell that the neighbourhood wasn’t abandoned, but merely in hiding, retreating into itself until the bad weather passed.
The plastic bag vanished from my line of sight, disappearing behind the row of houses; (I’m not sure about that punctuation suggestion) [s]The[/s] a helpless toy of the wind. I kept my gaze trained on the spot where I’d last seen it, the frigid (sounds strange describing water but it could just be unusual to me) water assailing the numb[s]ing[/s] skin of my face. What if I were light as a feather? Would the wind carry me? Would I be raised high into the overcast ceiling of the world? [s]It would[/s] Would the wind (?) lose it’s vigor as it swept me higher and higher, and gently set me down on the fluffy surface of the clouds? Maybe, I thought solemnly, maybe I’d be able to look down on the world and make sense of it.
I bit my lip, unshed tears prickling behind my eyes. My gaze dropped, and drifted across the unsoiled, slick cobblestones that formed the floor of the square I stood on. The nearby benches were made of wood, covered in a layer of chipped, green paint. They were dull in comparison to the white limestone seats one could find in the park near my house; a small feat that clearly set apart the richer and the less well-off districts of Semverton. Grateful to have found something to focus on, I studied the lampposts. Comparing. Their plain metal stems and harsh lights were another indicator that informed me subtly that I wasn’t where I belonged. The house I’ve lived in all my life was set on a street with Victorian-style, ornamented lampposts in a dull, dyed black.
Resisting the brutal gusts of wind I drew humid air into my lungs, blinking rainwater out of my stinging eyes. My brown hair whipped across my face, and I brushed it away, tucking the loose strands behind my ears. Shivering at my own frigid touch I sniffed. The single shoulder strap of my bag dug into my skin. Fed up with the discomfort I set it down beside me, leaning it against the fence.
Only when I felt warm tears run down my cheeks[s], it dawned[/s] did it dawn on me that I was crying. The intense brightness of the windows across the street, blurred around the edges by my moist vision, bit at me. I imagined them to house joyous families, who laughed and joked as they shared their daily experiences. To me the concentrated rectangles of light felt like a threat; shining with such hateful fervor that it could potentially swallow me whole.
I felt chills run down my spine, suddenly uncomfortable. I let out an elongated sigh. Though four roads led away from the square on which I stood, none appeared to be sufficiently inviting, let alone worth the walk. Streetlamps formed circular puddles of light on the sidewalk, though in between them night resided, ominous and indistinct. At least here, as I rested beside a bare metal fence that encircled a rather petite, unfilled fountain, there was enough illumination.
A fleeting scan of my surroundings allowed me to exhale in relief. There was no one to be seen, no one approaching me asking questions I knew I would barely be able to answer. My only company was the rain, the pitiless and powerful streams of water rushing down from above. My gaze darted in the direction of a sharp bang as I ducked behind the fence, my knees cracking to protest the impulsive movement.
My heart raced in my throat, and I exhaled in relief (repetition – maybe rephrase earlier occurrence of same phrase?) when I found it had been the backfiring of a car. The grey minivan drove past, its occupants unaware that they were being watched. The engine puffed and creaked, (would she hear it over the rain?) and I caught myself wondering how long it would last before giving out. The windshield wipers swooshed at regular intervals, engaged in a fruitless battle against the rain. The car rounded a corner, turning away from me, the red backlights vanishing unhurriedly into the distance.
It had been only a year and a half since the day that my perfect existence was ripped to shreds before my eyes. Literally. I’d grown up with a family who loved me, and in a home that I called my sanctuary. [s]but[/s] I’d never realized that the tables can turn in the blink of an eye, and that your happy-go-lucky way of life can easily crumble.
Look at me now, Michael. Look what you’ve done. A bitter taste rose in the back of my throat, and I drew moist air deep into my lungs to eliminate the nauseating flavour of defeat. Is this what you wanted, you bastard? Were your intentions towards me, personally, malicious all along, or is making my life miserable merely a side effect of your need to control my mother?
I became conscious of the fact that I was still crouching, and rested my cheek against my arm, my hands continuing to encircle the metal railing. The sheer coldness of my skin made me quiver, and I sucked in air, watching my exhalation cloud before my face. The outdoor temperatures were dropping, and with it my body cooled. There are limitations to the capabilities of the human body, and keeping warm under circumstances like these was definitely not (?) one of them.
Unclenching my hands from their spot on the fence I lowered them to my face, rubbing the life back into my numb cheeks. It was my own fault that I was stranded; it was by my own accord that I threw open my front door and made a run for freedom. Despite the original cause, which was Michael’s cruelty, coldness, and loose hands, in the end it came down to my personal, split-second decision. I trembled, my teeth clicking together softly. God, what the hell have I done?
What else is there to say, Jess? That I’m a weakling? A coward who left Jake and Katy in the hands of that motherfucking maniac? My teeth pressed down on my lip, nearly breaking the thin layer of skin. My nervous habits were flourishing today, I noted, as I found myself cracking my numb knuckles. To my relief I realized that the rain was diminishing and that the clouds were becoming less ominous and looming. The wind, though, appeared only to [s]only[/s] be increasing in strength.
Michael’s deranged, he’s a psychopath on the loose.
The second I’d drifted to the surface of consciousness (no comma) early this morning, my fate for the day had been sealed.
I found the strength to haul myself back to my feet as my saturated jeans, sweater and jacket stuck uncomfortably to my skin like hulking additions to my body. What do people think when they see me? Can they peer through the mask of fear and misery, and locate the girl I once was? Michael, you’ll never know how much you’ve taken from me, and how much I wish you were dead.
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