Young Writers Society

His senses felt dulled. The trees a dreary grey and their leaves a tinted yellow. The smell of fresh flowers comparable to the dirty scent of dust. His tuxedo seemed to stick him, but the more he pulled and the more relieved he felt, the more it stuck to him. Like an itch after you scratch it, it always came back worse. His mother’s words of encouragement sounded soft and slurred to his oblivious ears. Feeling oh so far away. His head bounced up and down slowly as he lied he was listening. He felt like he was drifting away as he floated on his seat cushion. Feeling oh so soft. His body crumbling away like a centuries-old rock after a big storm. Feeling oh so drifty. His body relaxed and falling deeper into the cushion. Push away. Push away, he thought and a voice answered him. An eerily familiar voice, Oh push away. Push away. Don’t let the waves take you today. Push away. Oh push away. I’ve been waiting since the end of May. He felt his arms press down and his body floated lazily through the air. Push away. Have no fear. Push away. Push away. Let the air glide through your hair. And he pushed away, the action felt strangely familiar to swimming. Pushing and swimming through the air. Tearing his body slowly, closing and ripping through. Scared of the hole and the blood and the cuts. And tearing through. Scared of the tar and the car and the rising star. He batted his eyelids at the sky and floated through the air. His hands holding the back of his head as he dozed off, waking up at the sound of a bang. He pulled himself off the tar and followed the car, distracted by the sight of the first rising star. Blood flowed from his knees and he stared at the weeping cuts and the hole he left behind. And he stared at the ugly orange Beetle as it whimpered down the road. Its once shiny metals a rusty reddish-brown. And he stared at the street signs. Goldenberry Lane. Lionel Marx Avenue. Bakery Road. Sweet Street. And the words popped up in his head as he stared at the lampposts. Beware! Danger here. Beware! Beware! Beware! And the white stripes contrasting against the black, reflecting the light of the early Winter sunset. Beware! Danger here. Beware! Beware! Beware! And the lights on in a modern house that seemed strangely familiar. The fixtures shining across the driveway in yellow splendour. Beware! Beware! Beware! Danger here. Danger here. Beware! Beware! Beware! And nothing made sense, but he didn’t want anything to make sense. A splitting headache tore through his head and he snapped out of it, gasping for air. Big beads of sweat on his forehead and an ominous phrase imprinted on his brain. Beware! Danger here. It reminded him of an electric fence, his eyes passing the bright fixture on the wall, fence or maybe an animal cage. And he vaguely remembered a hot day at a zoo. Reminding him of the red and white sign: “Beware! Dangerous (Danger) Animals Here!” Or the yellow and black Hodin sign: “Beware! Live electricity (Beware!)! Danger (Here.)! Fear. He felt fear mingled in with a strange sensation of excitement and nervousness. And then he remembered (Beware! Danger here.) why he was in someone else’s driveway. He sniffed the air and recognized the scratchy smell of pollen. His eyes which had felt clouded saw the shadows in the upstairs windows. And his deaf ears heard the last of his mother’s inspirational words, “I’m so proud of you. I know she’ll love you. Just love and always care for her,” she said, sounding close to tears, “I love you so much, John. Never forget that.”

“I love you too, Mother.”

“Well, go get 'em.”

He shut his eyes and breathed slowly, his feet guiding him to the front door. His senses felt alert. Ready for action. Beware! Danger here. He opened his eyes and took one more long deep breath. “You can do this,” he whispered, but all he could think about was, Beware! Danger here. It was flashing through his mind. Burning a hot red. A spitting torrent of words. Beware! Beware! Beware! Beware! Danger. Danger. Danger here!

Or was it there. Danger there! He giggled softly at his stupidity and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately as if someone was standing there, waiting to open it. “Hello, Mrs Clarke,” he said, his heart beating like a drum in his chest.

“That took you a while, John,” she said. Her face lifted into a smile, highlighting the small wrinkles around her eyes.

“Just a little nervous.”

“Who wouldn’t be,” she said as he tried to stare past her.

“Ummm… Sorry to rush you, Mrs Clarke. Is Sam ready? We don’t want to be late.”

“She’s waiting upstairs. I’ll call her,” she said, “Sam!”

“Coming,” he heard Sam squeal, the click-clack of what could only be her shoes sounding down the hallway.

He watched the stairs, expecting the arrival of his princess and thought, Prince Charming, expecting his princess. His pumpkin carriage outside. The bluebirds are singing and the mice are speaking. Prince Charming expecting his princess. Her ball gown is flowing. The heels are clacking and the shoes are clicking. Prince Charming expecting his princess.

And at that moment he saw the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Sam was at the top of the stairs, her blonde hair pinned up in a French Twist; a few escaped strands flowed down past her shoulders. Her body was nestled in a sleeveless dress that shone a cornflower bluish-grey. The gown watered down from a low-cut neckline to a pool around her knees. Sam’s skin was fair and flawless and her lips a glistening pink.

“Wow,” he stuttered, too astonished to speak.

“Hi, John,” she giggled.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Prince Charming.”

Princess Charming in love with his princess. Her manners are delightful. Outside the pumpkin carriage is waiting, outside the pumpkin carriage is expecting you. Princess Charming in love with his princess.

Sam walked down the spiral stairs and he took her hand. “You know I’ve missed you.”

“We talk to each other every day at school.”

“Still. I miss my quiet time. My parents are already shouting at one another when I walk through the door.”

And he frowned for a second, Oh great. A new bitch in the family.

He looked up at Sam, savouring the view, She’s beautiful, sweet and kind no matter what he thinks.

“That isn’t great. How’s your mom faring?”

“I really don’t know. She doesn’t want to speak about it.”

“I get it.”

“We should get going before she worries.”

“See you, Mom, love you,” Sam said as he led her towards the rusty shell of a car.

“Have fun you, two,” Mrs Clarke called back and waved goodbye until the car pulled down the street.

Sam watched her mom lovingly and waved goodbye, finally stopping when they went turned a corner, giving one last glance back before she turned her attention on John.

“Oh wait, I got you some flowers,” he said and handed her the bouquet of pastel pink roses.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Hi kids. Did you guys forget I was here?”

“Sorry, Mother.”

“Sorry, Mrs Linton.”

“So we’re off to the dance then,” she said, searching on the radio for something, laughing as they tried to sing along. The fun and games died down as they drove into the car park, the feeling of nervousness settling like a rock as they watched their friends and classmates walk inside hand in hand.

“You ready?”

“Are you,” she smiled.

“Well. We’re doing it either way. Aren’t we?”

He opened Sam’s door for her and Mother bid her goodbyes.

“Thanks for coming to the dance with me,” he said as they walked towards the school building.

“Thank you for bringing me to the dance,” Sam said in a sweet voice that rang deep into his core.

“Why would you want me to take you,” he said, stopping her at the entrance.

“How could I not?”

“I thought you liked someone else.”

“Really, I thought that you knew I liked you.”

“How would I have known?”

“I stared at you all day long. Didn’t you notice?”

“No. I just thought you had caught on I was staring?”

“Seriously? That really made an ass out of you and me, as Mr Sancho would say,” she said and pulled him into the school.

Without the lights, the hallway was dark and gloomy, but not creepy or ominous with each other to hold. As they got closer and closer to the hall the heavy beat and the rhythmic sound of music floated to their ears. Subconsciously they started walking faster, but just as they were about to go into the hall John stopped Sam again. He looked into her eyes and said, “Are you sure you want to do this? That you actually want to go to the dance with me.”

Watching her face, seeking for her answer but no words escaped her mouth. One of her hands laced silkily across his cheek, pulling his head downwards as she kissed him. Letting go to breathe and he stared at the sparkle in her ears, shining like a star’s glimmering glow.

“Of course. Why do you keep asking?”

“No reason,” he said.

He opened the door and grabbed her hand, pushing her through a flimsy wall of streamers. The music roared at his ears as he followed, Don’t let them get to you. You just need a workaround. I’m sure you do.

Hopefully, that isn’t the DJ’s best song, he thought. His eyes adapted slowly to the darkness of the room, but he still struggle not to knock over anything as Sam pulled him across the room. Cords of small yellow lights floated across the air above them, their small glow illuminating the neon stars further. The walls of the giant room were coated with a gigantic black fabric speckled with the same streamers that blocked the entrance. They walked along the edge of the dance floor towards the snacks table. “You wanted to tell me something earlier? At school,” Sam spun around as he poured her a drink.

“I’ve just really missed hanging out with you after school even if it was a lot of homework most of the time.”

“Me too, but girls don’t just wake up like this.”

“They don’t,” he asked stupidly, faking bewilderment.

“Duh, I woke up looking like a pork chop this morning,” she played along and they burst into laughter. The night floated away on their words and giggles and soon enough the DJ called out, “Okay lovebirds. We have our second last song for the night. Come on and dance. This one’s called Dancing Under The Night Sky.”

Surprised they filed onto the dance floor, unaware that hours had passed without them dancing to even one song. The music starting, John moving his feet awkwardly. “Come on. Loosen up, John. Tonight is all about fun,” Sam said and he tried his best to do whatever she was doing.

“I’ll try,” he said, struggling to move to the beat. He listened to the lyrics, recognizing it as his favourite song, Dancing Under the Night Sky. I didn’t know you were coming out tonight. As the grey clouds pass by, the night whisked into your light. She looked at him and led him as he did his best to not step on her toes. Oh, tonight the stars are falling down. And even when the world seems like it’s coming to an end. I’m telling you. Dancing feels so good under the night sky. I’d give anything. I’d anything to dance with you. Tonight. He listened to the small piece of music, waiting for the chorus, but before it ever came the music stopped and everyone looked around confused, mumbling to each other as they tried to figure out what was happening. The lights flashed on and a shrieking ring stung their ears. They tried to look at the stage, but the bright light burned their eyes. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” a voice echoed out of the speakers.

He was still blinded by the light, but he recognised the voice of Mr Nelson, their principal. “I hope you are all having a fantastic evening. I do not wish to ruin the festivities of this special night for you, but I must sadly inform you of some unexpected news.”

Sam looked at John in her what-is-it-now look and John stared back, saying with his eyes, “I don’t know, but this can’t be good.”

“A letter has just gone out to your parents and I would just like to say my condolences to all of you, students and family alike. I know you all loved Mr Sancho, but tonight we must sadly say goodbye. Mr Manuel Sancho was a great man, a comfort, a loving father for his family and our school,” he watched as the glinting fire in her eye disappeared and her chin began to tremble.

Her head shook from side to side and she ran to him. Falling into him, seeking comfort in him, seeking hope. Something he wished he had. A single teardrop shed, spilt down his chin and plopped down on her head. She looked up, searching for content and wisdom, but met only with tears streaming down in glistening lines. And she realized at that moment that maybe it wasn’t words she wanted, but someone to hug her and kiss her better. Someone to protect her from the world’s evils. Someone to hold her close. And as John pulled her in tighter and buried her head next to his she kissed his cheek. “He was a man who gave everything he had and expected nothing in return. No pat on the back or a thank you. He gave up his last years teaching kids like you and I know the impact he left on them was outstanding. He is the type of person I would like to be one day and I hope you agree. Thank you.”

The hall stood still, depressed, only the cries of students breaking the silence. John looked up and tried to wipe his tears from his face as he led Sam away. Gripping a strong arm around her waist as he walked her out. Her head still buried into his stomach, crying. He walked out the doors, not able to bear what might be said next. Blurry darkness encased him and sunk into his soul, destroying him slowly as their feet stepped onto the empty tarmac outside. He collapsed on a bench, keeping her close and lay his head softly on her. He felt another warmth as he let tears sparkle down his face. Staring out at the night, empty lots surrounded the school and far across the field past the gate he saw a lamppost. Beware! Danger here. And the thought of those words broke him, he struggled to sound strong for Sam as he breathed the cold night air. He listened to the sound of the night, the chirping of crickets under the blank sky, imagining where Mr Sancho was now. In his garden. His special garden where a special bird sang a beautiful tune. His tune, John’s favourite song, but really Mr Sancho’s. He hummed harmonically and sang softly, “Dancing under the moonlight. Under the shine of the stars so bright. The journey ahead, exploring our destiny.” Have a fantastic walk down your garden, Mr Sancho. Think of your rebirth, another chance to be a beautiful human being. Know we miss you already. You were always much more of a father to me than my real dad. And I want you to know I love you. “And I think of a special night.” I think of a special night where I floated away, but you pulled me back and floated away to the clouds yourself where a stream flows serenely under a bridge.