ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm almost seventeen and doing my exams. I really want to be a writer, hey, we all gotta have a dream! [February 2003]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1) The Unloved Woman (Short Stories) A sad tale about the life of a homeless person, people we often forget. [585 words]
Bruising Emmie Sinclair
She was smiling as she entered the car. The smooth leather stroked the bare skin of her back. She wore a strapless sundress although it was cold, and he wondered about that. They didn't talk as they drove. His eyes remained fixed on the road, although he could feel her gaze. She was watching him. An icing-sugar sprinkling of frost lay over the mint green fields. The sun was cold and white. The brightness hurt his eyes, or maybe it was the intensity of her gaze. He felt weak and dizzy. He pulled in at the road.
"You stopped?" She looked confused. She wrinkled up her smooth nose. Her lips pouted childishly.
"I don't know what's wrong." His head bubbled with jumbled thoughts. Nonsense, words and images that tore at the very innermost soul of him.
"There's something wrong?" Again she looked confused. Her face fell forward. He stroked her sandy blonde hair. Did she feel it? This peculiar negativity. An aching feeling in his gut. As if they were doing everything wrong.
"It's not wrong." He said, although it was. He looked at her and knew her. He was of her blood. They were almost the same person.
She didn't reply. She took his hand in her own, a pale hand which matched his own in shade. Her skin was softer though.
He led her back to the car, squeezing her hand and not letting go. She giggled a bit, embarrassed.
He looked into her metallic blue eyes. They were wide and so innocent, shot with lines of pure gold, pure love.
He drove on, looking for their favourite spot, their special cave. They'd played there together as children. Even then they'd been destined to be together.
He turned to look at her, taking in her sharp cheek bones and faraway gaze. His eyes left the road for but a second, it was too late. The car like a flimsy plastic toy smashed into the headlights of a truck. Neither of them had heard it coming, they'd been too wrapped up, in each other. Metal crumpled and glass smashed. The truck driver heard no screams as he tried to pull away from the car.
Now the policeman surveyed the area, looking at the beautiful bruised face of the young girl, a beautiful girl, with frozen blue eyes which were round like glass marbles. Her blonde hair was streaked in the crimson blood.
'Her blood,' The policeman wondered, 'Or his?' The man was also blonde. His hair lay as lifeless as his body. His eyes a similar blue, staring hopelessly at the sky.
The policeman saw that their hands were still clasped, a sight which caused a lump to well in his throat, although he had seen dozens of carcrashes.
"Are you ok?" Another policeman, with a dutiful 'sad' face on, looked at the elder man in pity.
"I'm fine, it's just, they were so young, so in love."
And they were. He could still read that on their faces.
"Oh no, they weren't lovers, they were brother and sister."
The policeman looked again and the clasped hands.
"Maybe they were both?"
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"I like this, Emmie ... "The policeman saw that their hands were still clasped, a sight which caused a lump to well in his throat, although he had seen dozens of carcrashes." This sentence is a bit awkward, though ... perhaps "Their hands were still clasped together and the hardened policeman choked back a sob." Something on that order ... Less words, similar meaning. I did like the story and at your age I see great things ahead, keep writing! " -- Judith Goff.
"Wow Emmie...this is VERY powerful! I'm quite impressed with your ability at your age. It's REALLY good. Dont give up on your dream." -- Michelle.
" "An icing-sugar sprinkling of frost lay over the mint green fields" - great description, can really picture that" -- J L Watts, UK.
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