Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Angel's View

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The baby blue waves rose and fell, creating a dark line on the now water-sodden sand. I run as she yells to me, the soft ground of sand gathering between my toes. Small feet prints imprint the ground as I shun the world away. With a quick and agile lead of faith blue-sparkled water erupts around me in a fit of giggles. The waves wrap around me, morphing to perfectly match my body. My insides dance in a circular motion while tumbling butterflies murmur sweet songs of truth. Silently gripping the dull orange buoy I look out towards the lighthouse.

There it stands just like it had last time I'd been here. A glowing silhouette of pearl-colored walls and rails. Yet, in the distance, I feel the difference. Flickering my eyes behind me to see if everything is okay, I take off. I slice through the cold waves like a knife. The anger sets in and I dive further into the unknown. In the sea of sameness I am not, but yet a place where the coral paints a picture into my heart.

Soundly from slumber I awaken, a vision of white sheets filling my view and sticking out from all around me. This was again the same dream, a recollection of a young daughter's memory flooding into mine. Every night I used to wake up, the sweat beading off my forehead and dripping onto the sheets, in pure terror. Since then, I've grown accustomed to her vivid imagination in her view of the world. To see the natural beauty of the world is something indescribable, unexplained in words. The trees of flowing reds, greens, and yellows sway in the distance, the sun setting in the background. Wherever she goes, I go.

I've never been able to understand why she picked me, I'm nothing purely special. My minds been twisted into confusion, coiling in many hiding places. Their hurtful comments build up hatred inside my heart, as the swirling words become truth in my head. I feel alone in the world, outside of my element. They don't know what it's like to come home crying everyday. I doubt their mothers need to tell them they are special no matter what people say, comforting them when their body involuntarily shakes. To walk down the halls is like a run-way, every judges and nobody looks close enough. I had always believed strongly in not judging a book by it's cover, but when no one seemed to care I knew it was not possible.

I continue to walk through the abandoned space, pushing open the doors, as another flush of tears dance down my face. My favorite pants are now ruined, red ketchup splattered across the back. I should have known this was coming. Social Studies, my least favorite class, was the scene. The teacher told me to go to the nurse, the kids silently chuckling behind me, laughter I would do anything to join into. It wasn't until I fell to the floor in a heap of giggles, a strong emotion of sadness mixing into another feeling. The envelope fell off my back, and inside was a wrapper. The cursive letters reading “A little gift from Mother Nature.”

With a squeak I run to my covers, anxious to be calmed by her soft voice. My eyes flutter and close, but I can't feel her. Sighing silently I look up, only to see her studying me from across the room. She moves her feet so gracefully across the floor in a moment's notice, then she's by my side. Frail fingers gather under my arms, pulling me with a gentle force to my toes.

A soft cotton dress clutches my skin, clinging to my curves. The spaces in between my fingers fill and I follow her. The brightly dewed grass tickles my toes and the sky sings with longing. As she comes to a stop, I glance at her. Her sand-toned eyebrows rise in shock, blue eyes glistening diamonds, and blond hair billowing in the breeze. I reach out in front of me. My hand slides alongside the glass, leaving a smudge of warmth across the water-colored surface. I look beside me and see nothing but the door to my room and the colorful lime green walls that enclose me. I glance again at the mirror, the information seeping throughout my body. An angel she was, showing me the view through her chocolate brown eyes, the girl that was always there, but never managed to arise. The angel's view that changed my life.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback