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Too Long In Exile This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Last night the moon seemed to say something. The man looked up at the heavens from his balcony, looking for a deeper meaning hidden in the stars. The only thing that occupied his mind, however, were the memories that he had stored up of his daughter. Perhaps Julie was looking up at the stars too, he thought, it was the same moon after all. He wanted desperately to be back home, to see his family again. He ached for home, his former life. The sounds of Paris brought him back to reality, and he slumped his shoulders as if the balloon of hope that kept him going had just been popped, leaving him heartbroken. Those doors were closed for now. They had been closed for too long. Three years is too long to wait for the law to run its course. His daughter would be six now, and although he called for every birthday and holiday and almost every weekend, it was not enough for either of them. His relationship with his wife was becoming strained as well. Neither of them was able to fulfill their marriage pacts while they were three thousand miles away. He was becoming more and more estranged from his family, and it was becoming clear during their calls which were often short and filled with long gaps of silence, both people not sure what to say to each other.
The man walked inside and closed the glass-paneled balcony doors to keep out the night chill that was starting to creep over the earth. He gazed out of his room and down on the streets of the city through the doors, looking but not seeing, contemplating what would become of the rest of his life. He turned away from the window and walked to the living room where he poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle of Château Trotanoy that had become his new favorite. He watched the glass fill with red liquid, gently flowing into his glass. He poured until he judged that the vintage would grant him sleep, and poured still more. He raised the glass to his lips, and walked to an armchair by his favorite window that looked out at the Eiffel Tower. He liked Paris better than America, he reflected. At least the justice system was swift.
The American court system was always slow, they could never decide who was right and who was wrong. Three years of his life spent in exile while they shunned his case from court to court, each in turn not wanting to deal with his case. All he wanted was to go home. He never hurt that girl! Parents send their children to school, trusting that they are going to be safe and cared for, and he would never betray their trust. Only a heartless bastard would lock a small girl in a closet overnight on purpose. But it was his classroom, and he was her teacher. How could he not have noticed?, he thought for the millionth time. He looked into his wine glass and saw only a swig left, so he drained it. His eyes were getting heavy. He stood up, trying to make his way to bed. He stumbled Into his bedroom and sat down heavily on his bed, struggling to take his shoes off before his eyelids shut. He pulled them off with short, drunken movements and placed them on the floor. The pillows looked so inviting that he fell onto the bed, fully clothed, and drifted into oblivion



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CookieMonster24This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 24, 2013 at 2:43 am:
I think you did a phenomenal job! Keep it up! 
 
Rebel_without_a_cause replied...
May 31, 2013 at 4:00 pm :
Thanks, this one won a couple writing contests. its one of my favorite pieces.
 
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