Sammie Wilson

 'A professional writer is an amatuer who didn't quit' - Richard Bach
I didn't quit. 

My Journey - Free Fiction


Posted by Sammie on June 12, 2011 at 10:05 AM

Her feet glided slowly over the shortly clipped lawn until she came to her spot - a monstrously large rock that was flat enough for her to sit on. Her view was a delicious treat and the day was perfect for just sitting and staring out into the crystal clear blue waters and watching the white wash pour from the waterfall. This was her day, she thought. Her day to not think about all of her troubles and stressful decisions that are waiting for her. Her day to just sit and think about nothing.

She wore only loose hanging clothes - a baggy t-shirt and blue track pants. Her curly brown hair was tied into a ponytail and her makeup was lightly spread upon her face. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours then sadly it was time for her to leave this sane place and go back to the insanity that was her life.

She feared that she would not be able to make it through another day. She feared that her strength was quickly depleting leaving her emotions raw and defenceless. How many more names could she be called? How many more threats could she put up with?

Last week she was a whore, this week she was a dirty slut and she doesn't even really know why. The reasoning is beyond her but she's starting to see they don't need a reason. They've been saying things about her now since the eighth grade. The worst part about it is she used to be friends with all of them and then all of a sudden a target appeared on her back.

And it's not like it used to be. She doesn't just get pushed around and picked on at school anymore her name is everywhere. Face book, Twitter, YouTube - they write horrible rumours of boys she supposedly hooked up with but didn't and email her saying things like she should just kill herself and that she's a waste of space. Her once shared secrets to who she thought was her BFF is now public knowledge and even though she has great parents, they just don't understand. She wished they realised it's not the same anymore. It's not like it was when they went to school.




"What are we going to do Michael?" Sarah Jenkins asked her husband while sipping a glass of red wine.

"Change her school?" He suggested.

"I don't think it'll matter," she sighed. "They're putting things up about her on all those social networking sites, people who don't even know her are now calling her names and crucifying her for things she hasn't even done."

He moved towards her. "It'll be alright, it'll blow over."

Sarah shook her head. "That's just it, I don't think it will. She's becoming more depressed, she's only fourteen she should be getting out and about but she doesn't even want to shop with me anymore." She took another sip.  

"Do you want me to talk to her?" He asked.

She nodded. "She's not listening to me." She tilted the glass and swallowed the rest of her drink. "She thinks that having all of her friends and half the school turn on her is the end of the world."

He looked at his watch. "It's ten o'clock already, I'll sit down with her tomorrow and see where her heads at. In the meantime..." He smiled and took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on the wooden floor then pulled her from her seat and into his lap.

He cuddled her like that for an hour and stroked her hair as they both stared out at the full moon and brightly shining stars from their bedroom balcony. This was their one nightly ritual they made sure they kept. When dealing with their jobs and their three children it was all too easy to forget to enjoy each other. It was a peaceful pleasure and on that night a pleasure that quickly came to an end.

A high pitched scream cut through the silence causing Sarah's adrenaline to drive her off of Michael's lap. She took off in a panicked sprint, through the bedroom, down the stairs and coming to a stop outside Harper's room where her youngest son stood in the doorway. There was a puddle pooled around his feet and when she looked up she got her answer to what was so bad to cause him to wet himself. The sight nearly crippled her. Michael pushed passed, he was shouting something to her but the shock blocked whatever he was saying out.

Michael turned to his son instead. "Call the Ambulance buddy ok? Remember? Triple zero."

The little boy of only seven grabbed the cordless phone from the hallway and did as his father told him. His trembling finger dialled the number then after putting the phone to his ear he waited until a lady answered.

"Emergency," she said. "Police, Fire or Ambulance?"

"Umm ... Ambulance," he responded as clearly as he could.

A button was pressed. "What's the emergency?" Another lady asked.

Tears were falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks as he answered her. "My sister is hanging from the fan in her room and there's something around her neck."

The End

Categories: Short Stories

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Reply Sammie
6:17 AM on November 28, 2011 
My pleasure...Can't wait to read it! :)
Reply John Buchanan
6:13 AM on November 28, 2011 
When I was younger I experienced bullying, but then we had no social networking in those days. It gave me a tremendous hatred of bullies.
I wrote a poem called the oak tree which you have just inspired me to blog. Thank you.

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