Tuesday, September 18, 2012

For writing we have been working on Narratives. Here is mine:
In The Dark

This is how; the youthful, bubbly chatter was so out of place. It belonged to a young primary aged girl, who was trailing her parents. She was gleefully telling anyone who would listen about school and other minor, day to day things. Her bright, joyful, cheery clothes were stark contrast to the mournful neutral sea surrounding her.

The service started.
‘Hannah’ her mother said, gaining the young girl’s attention.
The family’s seats were in the front row. Her father stood up in front of the swarm of people. He seemed to of aged at least twenty years, looked frail, seemed withdrawn, as if a million miles away. It appeared that he was hiding so much more than he would let on. His voice croaked, and to Hannah he seemed to be telling a story of someone he knew well.

Later, after all memories had been shared, the crowd broke up, returning to standing around, this time talking, even laughing.

Hannah didn’t. She felt drained, as if she’d lost something, and she’d never get it back. Confused. Overwhelmed. Why all the stories about this person? Hannah thought, whoever it was, she knew them.

Her parents were talking to her grandfather. He seemed distant, not truly focused, and heartbroken. Hannah stood beside her parents. Then something occurred to her- She looked up into her grandfather’s eyes. They were empty. Sorrowful, sad, drained of any emotion. Just deep, wretched mourning; inconsolable, beyond repair. The twinkle had gone. Hannah asked, in all wide eyed six year old innocence,
‘Granddad, where’s grandma?’
That was all it took for his face to crumple.

                                                                                                                                     By Amanda

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