First Person Narrative Test
So... This was a "test". And by test I mean we came into class and typed 3-4 pages of stuff then printed it off and handed it in. So! Lots of mistakes and.. I don't think I was able to make it... make sense. Oh well, Enjoy.
The morning couldn’t have come more quickly. I dreaded the thought of those beams of light that come through my open window, hitting the glass chandelier in the middle of my room. The covers where pulled over my head as I made a great effort to stay in bed. It was a bright sunny day and I didn’t want to face it. I went over the events of the previous day in my mind for the tenth time. It just didn’t make sense. “Beep, Beep.” I had to groan. Pulling back the covers I looked at the far side of the room and there was my alarm clock. Normally I would be up before it had a chance to sound. Not today it seemed. The golden walls of my room were highlighted by the morning rays. The dancing colors where a sight to behold. And the freshness found in this daylight was unbelievable. What a rotten day.
One step, two step, three step, four. Toe up and hold for three. The steps repeated themselves in my mind as music emitted from overhead. I had made my way down to the kitchen were I would frequently dance while making my morning drink. Too many things reminded me of her. The dancing, the scent of morning light, the music, even the sight of coffee! But alas, it had become my daily routine as much as it became hers. I can’t get this situation off my mind, what was she thinking?
The girl’s elaborate story was rather hard to believe. But you had to give her credit; it was after all, well thought up. I took my usual seat in the lounge chair by the fireplace, she should be up soon. Despite the music I played it wasn’t enough to drown out the ticking sound in my ears of the grandfather clock. I sighed resting my head in one hand and my tea in the other, nestled in my lap. When she told me what had happened, her face was still as stone and her expression calm. She sat on the bar stool and told it just like she had rehearsed. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene again, hoping to find some hint of my daughter in there. Some of her self, her expression, her life, but I couldn’t. The seventeen year old that had sat in front of me wasn’t the one I used to look at everyday. She knew how to manipulate words, I taught her well. She spoke soft sounds with hard meanings. If someone where to listen to the story of hers and they had a limited vocabulary, just the pure diction of what she was saying would be enough to simmer any anger. At the time my face was a mirror image of hers, still and composed. I still couldn’t understand how she managed it. Something had to be done.
I heard her foots steps on the stairs behind me. She crept slowly down them as if the noise of her rushing to the kitchen to cure her stomach of its hunger would anger me. I had to smile at her thoughtfulness… I wondered if she was back. The caution in her every step and her timid nature seemed to be there. I had to wonder aloud. When I questioned her I must have startled her. It was a simple enough thought. There were no tones of anger or disappointment, only curiosity. Maybe it was because I kept my back to her. I failed to turn and face her with the smile I had. But I couldn’t face her, fearing what I have long since suspected. Had this all gone on long enough?
I listened as she stepped onto the stone tiles. Was she surprised? Quite possibly. After all, she knew what I was going to do and still I played her favorite song. Her light-footed steps held no rhythm, I sighed and turned my head to stare down the dead fireplace, she wasn’t back. Since she was a child I always thought I knew what was best for her. As she grew I gave her the space she needed. I knew that teenagers pull and poke, testing the limits of your patience and generosity. But this, this was unheard of. Never again would I look as her the same way again. It was over. I had finally had enough.
Time seemed to slow down and fragments of the conversation from the night before drifted in the air. Words I wanted to say came from her mouth and vise versa. I was glad that I didn’t have to be the one to fire the first shot. She took that bullet herself. It saddened me that I would never be able to watch down upon her with that motherly gaze only a helpless infant would receive. I understood how much she wanted to grow up and I would let her. When she had taken her life into her own hands and set it on the wind, I would be the one to ground her. Time’s standstill had ended. I looked upon my grownup daughter as she stared relieved and frightened out into the distance towards the future and the new path she had set herself on; Boarding School.
The ending is crappy I know. But I mean.. It was going to be some weird room-mate thing, but meh I figured it would be a bit of a new twist for me. -Shrug.-
The morning couldn’t have come more quickly. I dreaded the thought of those beams of light that come through my open window, hitting the glass chandelier in the middle of my room. The covers where pulled over my head as I made a great effort to stay in bed. It was a bright sunny day and I didn’t want to face it. I went over the events of the previous day in my mind for the tenth time. It just didn’t make sense. “Beep, Beep.” I had to groan. Pulling back the covers I looked at the far side of the room and there was my alarm clock. Normally I would be up before it had a chance to sound. Not today it seemed. The golden walls of my room were highlighted by the morning rays. The dancing colors where a sight to behold. And the freshness found in this daylight was unbelievable. What a rotten day.
One step, two step, three step, four. Toe up and hold for three. The steps repeated themselves in my mind as music emitted from overhead. I had made my way down to the kitchen were I would frequently dance while making my morning drink. Too many things reminded me of her. The dancing, the scent of morning light, the music, even the sight of coffee! But alas, it had become my daily routine as much as it became hers. I can’t get this situation off my mind, what was she thinking?
The girl’s elaborate story was rather hard to believe. But you had to give her credit; it was after all, well thought up. I took my usual seat in the lounge chair by the fireplace, she should be up soon. Despite the music I played it wasn’t enough to drown out the ticking sound in my ears of the grandfather clock. I sighed resting my head in one hand and my tea in the other, nestled in my lap. When she told me what had happened, her face was still as stone and her expression calm. She sat on the bar stool and told it just like she had rehearsed. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene again, hoping to find some hint of my daughter in there. Some of her self, her expression, her life, but I couldn’t. The seventeen year old that had sat in front of me wasn’t the one I used to look at everyday. She knew how to manipulate words, I taught her well. She spoke soft sounds with hard meanings. If someone where to listen to the story of hers and they had a limited vocabulary, just the pure diction of what she was saying would be enough to simmer any anger. At the time my face was a mirror image of hers, still and composed. I still couldn’t understand how she managed it. Something had to be done.
I heard her foots steps on the stairs behind me. She crept slowly down them as if the noise of her rushing to the kitchen to cure her stomach of its hunger would anger me. I had to smile at her thoughtfulness… I wondered if she was back. The caution in her every step and her timid nature seemed to be there. I had to wonder aloud. When I questioned her I must have startled her. It was a simple enough thought. There were no tones of anger or disappointment, only curiosity. Maybe it was because I kept my back to her. I failed to turn and face her with the smile I had. But I couldn’t face her, fearing what I have long since suspected. Had this all gone on long enough?
I listened as she stepped onto the stone tiles. Was she surprised? Quite possibly. After all, she knew what I was going to do and still I played her favorite song. Her light-footed steps held no rhythm, I sighed and turned my head to stare down the dead fireplace, she wasn’t back. Since she was a child I always thought I knew what was best for her. As she grew I gave her the space she needed. I knew that teenagers pull and poke, testing the limits of your patience and generosity. But this, this was unheard of. Never again would I look as her the same way again. It was over. I had finally had enough.
Time seemed to slow down and fragments of the conversation from the night before drifted in the air. Words I wanted to say came from her mouth and vise versa. I was glad that I didn’t have to be the one to fire the first shot. She took that bullet herself. It saddened me that I would never be able to watch down upon her with that motherly gaze only a helpless infant would receive. I understood how much she wanted to grow up and I would let her. When she had taken her life into her own hands and set it on the wind, I would be the one to ground her. Time’s standstill had ended. I looked upon my grownup daughter as she stared relieved and frightened out into the distance towards the future and the new path she had set herself on; Boarding School.
The ending is crappy I know. But I mean.. It was going to be some weird room-mate thing, but meh I figured it would be a bit of a new twist for me. -Shrug.-