I wrote this one night,inspired by some music, pictures, and myself. I consider this my best piece. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
The girl had been worrying for weeks. She didn’t really have a good reason, but she couldn’t stop. It felt like her life was ending. Like the walls of her mind were closing in and engulfing her in darkness. Try as she might, she couldn’t escape. She felt like she was drowning, suffocating. She knew she should be reaching out, but the thought terrified her. Worse than all the blackness surrounding her–and that was terrible–was the feeling of being totally, completely, absolutely alone. Abandoned. Deserted. Broken. Her family tried to help, but to her, it seemed that underneath their sympathy and concern they were judging her, condemning her. What she didn’t see, was the long nights they pulled, deep in prayer. She didn’t see them crying, fighting for her, wondering what they could have done to drive her to this. She didn’t see her friend’s concern, didn’t hear them asking if she was better. She had stopped attending church. She couldn’t see the use in sitting for an hour or more when the words she heard she could not identify. Her family had stopped trying to drag her. Thankfully. She felt like her previous life had been a happy dream. Now, she didn’t remember what feeling happy felt like. Her days she spent either lying in her bed, on the ground, on her couch, sitting at the window, in complete and total silence. Her nights she spent lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to stay awake, but dreading sleep. Her dreams were full of water, close rooms, and things so horrible she could only try to keep them from the waking world.
To pass time, she spent hours watching stories on youtube and Netflix, trying to read books, sketching, listening to her music. She had played violin and piano, but her inspiration had left when her depression came.
One day, she took her violin down from the wall, dusted it off, tuned it carefully, rosined her bow, and set it to the strings. Taking a deep breath, she slowly drew the bow across the G string. She closed her eyes and savored the vibration. Her fingers began to move along the fingerboard, her bow following. Music filled the room. Completed her. She gave her soul to her hands, her all. She lost track of time. Song after song, air after air. With each song she played, she felt a tiny spark of light fighting to take hold in her heart. It grew and grew, until finally, it formed a smile on her lips. She began twirling, bending, leaping. With each movement, she became more alive. Alone, in her room, with her music, she began to live again. She didn’t know her family stood outside of her door, her mother crying, her father thanking God, her siblings beyond relieved. As she played, she smiled. As she played more and more, she felt walls crumbling. Tears streamed down her face. Eventually, she set her instrument down, and cried. She didn’t know if it was sadness or joy. She did know that she was feeling. Feeling as she hadn’t felt for months. As her sobs subsided, she felt immense relief. She suddenly was aware of a presence. A smile of realization dawned, and she wrapped her arms around herself, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She thanked God as she never had before. He had given her life. She knew now that she only needed to accept it. And she did.
Two weeks later, she stood, looking out at the rain, her hands on the windowsill. She still wore a smile. She was completely lost in thought. Happy thoughts. She hadn’t thought she would ever feel happy while thinking ever again, yet here she was. Even the rain couldn’t dampen her joy. So lost in thought was she, that she never heard someone come up behind her, until they placed their hand on hers. Startled, she looked down, then up. She still wasn’t used to touch. Or him. She blinked several times, swallowed, and opened her mouth. Before she could get anything out, he told her he missed her. She smiled. He moved his hand so it held hers. He told her he prayed for her every day. That on that one day, two weeks ago, he had been praying for her, as usual, and suddenly knew his prayer had been answered. She started crying. Then she panicked. She hadn’t seen him for months, and now she was blubbering like a little girl in front of him.
He panicked. “O-oh, I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, um, here.” He hugged her, awkwardly. That made her laugh. “No, thank you. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She stepped back so she could look at his face. “I shouldn’t have dropped everyone like that. Will you forgive me?” In response, he took her hand, raised it over her head, and twirled her into his arms. “Yes,” he whispered into her ear. He kissed her cheek. “Stay strong, girlie. I’m rooting for ya.” With that, and a wink, he left. She smiled after him.