Young Writers Society

Books are thrown across the room, one side to another. I groan, throwing another one over my shoulder. Books about trees, plants, gardens, princesses and other stuff are all over my room, each one of them I don’t need. The book I need isn’t in my room for some odd reason; I must’ve left it in the family room. I sigh, running down the stairs to the second floor. My room is on the third floor, this house has six floors. The sixth floor I’m not allowed on for some reason, but I hear weird things from that floor, like some sort of an animal sound. I don’t know what it is, but one day I’ll know.

I run towards the library, not being seen by my father who is studying in one of the rooms. I’m not allowed in here, but if father doesn’t know, it won’t hurt him. However, if my mother, if she were here, found out I’m in serious trouble. I close the door, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. Turning around, I sigh. This place is huge; books cover each shelf, blanketing the gaps. This annoys me; I need to find my book. Knowing my father, he probably thought that it was just an ordinary book and placed it on one of the shelves. At the corner of my eye, I see one of the ladders for high up places. I push it along the floors, making my way into the middle of the room.

Books are everywhere, from the bottom of the floor shelves to the tip of the roof. All sizes of them are here too, not to mention the colours of the covers. Mostly they’re black, but I’m looking for a sky blue one. I don’t even get why my father puts my books in here, they have my name on them! He’s very oblivious, also strict; he wants everything up to standards. Long brown locks go up to his shoulders, curls bouncing as he walks along. One of his eyes are hidden from the world by the long strand of hair he calls a fringe. I will never understand how my father can be of mean to me, yet he has this ‘model style’, what I call it, about him? I guess some things can never be explained.

My eyes find my prize, the highlight of the blue stands out from all the rest. The problem is; it’s on the highset shelf. Why is everything I need always so difficult to get for? I sigh, pushing the ladder towards the eight section of this place. I look up, noticing how high it is. I take a deep breath, why is it so high up? One hand on the ladder rail, I start to climb, not looking down. I have this fear of heights and falling, I just can’t climb a tree without that fear dripping off me. I’m halfway, seeing the most prized books my father has written in his life time. There’s so many, from magic spells to how to make your garden perfect, father has written so many. I’ve read them, but to me, they’re incredibly boring.

I sigh, making my way up towards the book. I see it; the light blue binding is in my view. My eyes light up, as I reach out my hand to grab it. My fingertips reach it, as it slips out of its place. However, as I did, everything tumbled over. By tumbled, I mean everything went on its side and fell down, like domino’s. My eyes widen, as I slide down the ladder, my feet landing on the soles. I stare, circling while watching the books fall down on top of one another. I heard the door unlock, causing me to panic. That will be my father, I have to hide! I see this desk; its dark oak will hide me. I slide under the desk, closing the doors of it. I realised something, this is my father’s desk.

I hear him gasp in surprise, before groaning. He yells, “Gia! Get down here this minute!” I snicker, not caring if anyone heard me. He sighs, walking around the room, “Well, I guess I cannot find my daughter in here. This is a shame…” He strolling comes to a stop. The door opens, “Oh, what do we have here?” He scrawls, pulling me out, “What did I tell you about coming in here?!”

I rub the back of my neck, “Well, I was looking for my book…”

H eyes the book, “That has been put in here for a reason.”

I raise a brow, “Why, what’s the danger with a book about animals?”

“It’s not that animals are a bad thing to read about, but that,” he points at the book, “That isn’t something you should be reading, they don’t exist.”

“Father, whales are an ani-”

He interrupts me, “Don’t say that word, it’s forbidden!”

“But father…”

He pushes me out of the room, hissing, “I will deal with you later! Just don’t be a nuisance and stay out of everyone’s way!” He slams the door at my face.

I look at the cover of my book, sighing in annoyance. It’s a picture of the might creature itself, the blue whale. Its majestic eyes stare at the reader, wanting the person to flip through the book. I have read this dozens of times to know the words and repeat them as someone reads the line. People here don’t want to ever pick up this book though; they don’t want to be ‘cursed.’ I will never understand who invented the ‘curse’, but to me it’s rather stupid. Animals are here, people have pets. However, one animal in particular doesn’t, it’s the whale.

Whales do exist, I have seen them. People here just don’t believe in them because they have never seen them. I wonder why though, they’re animals after all. When we moved here, which was about ten years ago, I remember this one guy telling me off because my shirt had a pink whale on it. I was only five back then, so I don’t remember that much what he said. However, sometimes when I sit on the cliff tops near the beach I see that guy, staring into my soul, making the atmosphere very uncomfortable. People here say that whales don’t and never will exist because of the waters and how the hunters always hunt for them. I will never understand this place.

Since I’m not allowed to go to the library anymore, I decide to go to the cliff. I want to say hello to the ocean, say hello to my mother’s spirit that lies there. My mother has been gone since I was six, she died of some cancer. Sometimes when sitting on the cliff looking at the sea, tears would come to my eyes as I see memories. Memories of when I was five come to my vision, playing as if it was on television, acting the scene. My mother was the greatest woman around; she was the light in the dark corner. Even though I only knew her for six years, it seems like I was a long-time friend of hers. She is my idol in my life; she’s the reason why I don’t give up in things. Mother saw a whale once, she told me the tale of that mighty animal. I told her that one day I shall find a whale and bring it to her.

The ocean breeze meets my face, the sent crawling up my nose. I smile, setting myself on the spot I always sit on. It’s on the grass next to these rocks that are giant pebbles. Placing the book next to me, I stare out at the ocean, noticing something entirely odd. A fin popped out of the water, then another and another. Pretty soon, I saw the whole body of this animal. The face is unrecognizable, but the animal is extremely odd. I have never seen it before.

Wave’s crash as the animal keeps on popping up its fins. Its cry is a pleasant one, sort of a happy laugh in a way. I sigh; my life can’t get any better than this, can it?

I notice that my book as some sort of note inside. I raise a brow, taking it, scanning its evidence. My eyes widen as I run back home, slamming the door open. I storm to the flight of stairs, stomping up them. My father has a lot of explaining to do.