Saturday, May 7, 2016

CWWC 2: I Felt

Loren, I used all three prompts. I attempted to, at least. 

WARNING: SAD TALES AHEAD


I Felt

    I sat in the classroom long after any of my students had left. I was only 25 years old, but  my hair was tinged with slight gray. I liked to say it was your fault, friend. How wrong I was.
   I was sitting in one of the children's chairs, gazing out the window. I was thinking of you.
     "Bea, no!" you shouted as I walked away from what we had worked so long for. I walked. You destroyed it. It was irresponsible of us. We didn't care. That was the day I began refusing to feel.
  My refusal to feel didn't get me very far. Even now, In the classroom, I cannot feel. A student is being bullied, I walk by coldly. I refuse even the slightest twinge. Feelings are what tore us apart, friend. 
   I finally got up and went home. I saw a little child begging in the streets, and for a moment... I almost thought I felt. I walked on though. I think nothing.
   Once home, I decided to go get something from the attic. As I walked through the boxes, I tripped over one. Bad Memories. Do Not  Open.
    I opened it. My hands... did they shake as I pulled out a picture of us as toddlers? My eyes... did they burn when I held the blueprint for our project? Did I run downstairs and grab the phone? I did. I was going to call you, but I couldn't. I didn't... don't.... feel that much yet. Because yes... I have now felt. 
  That is why I am writing you this letter, to apologize.  I am sorry, friend. Will you forgive me, 10 years later?  Our feelings tore us apart, but they can bind us back together. Please.
                                                                                                                      - Freya Petersons

    Freya's friend didn't write back. Freya refused to allow herself to grow cold again. She became an advocate for homeless children. That little girl from the streets became her daughter. A transfer teacher soon became her husband. Yet still, her friend didn't write back. Freya threw herself more and more into life. She had needed a hero, so she became one. She counseled people. She loved people. Yes, Freya felt. 
     Years later, when Freya was older than she'd care for me to admit, she got a letter.
         "Dear Freya," it read, "I am Zoe's granddaughter, writing this for you. Zoe... well, she died yesterday. Of cancer. Freya, I'd just like you to know, she wrote you thousands of letters. She was going to bring them herself... sadly, that didn't work out. I have enclosed a few of them. I'll send the rest to you later... or I may come see you. Zoe said you were a wonderful woman."
  Freya cried that day. Sometimes though, hurt reminds us that we are human. Hurt reminds us that we live.






I am so very curious as to where in my mind that came from.

~AnonymousA~

4 comments:

  1. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 that was SO SAD! 😞🙁😢😔😓😭

    ReplyDelete
  2. Awesome story, Anonymous A! You did so well!:)
    -Emma-

    ReplyDelete

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