Sharm's story book~

This is a new story I wrote for SHARM'S STORY BOOK! 

Enjoy (: (:

~THE LITTLE THINGS IN LIFE

I sat on my stiff seat and glanced around the blankly isolated classroom. Everyone emptied the classroom the moment the recess bell rang its usual ear-piercing ring. Only I was left there, alone in the dead quietness. The grubby fan blades slowed down as each second ticked by and the sound of anxiously charged footsteps gradually departed from my ears along with their shadows that hastily floated away into the caliginously dim staircase where every student shuffled down to fill their growling stomachs. I blinked my tear-streaked eyes as the loneliness cruelly enveloped me.  Why was I alone?

Well, it all began yesterday…

~Yesterday was a disappointment. The grey overcast sky loomed ferociously above me like a prowling tiger, ready to devour its prey. Clouds started to rumble fiercely in the freezing wind and people on the streets lifted up umbrellas of different colours in unison to shield the coming storm. Staring at the upset sky, I heaved an apprehensive and uncertain sigh. Like any other typical day where I rebelled and returned home after ten, I was reluctant to step back home. Only that it was worse.

Life is cruel and sorry. Friends hurt you. True friends betray you. Even true friends do the slightest things that you never imagine they would do.

Words…. hurt a lot.

“That’s it. We’re not friends anymore,” the sentence slipped effortlessly underneath her warm, hurtful breath. It took a second to hurt someone, but a lifetime to forget the hurt.

Hearing that statement, a hole was shot deep in my heart, a hole that could never be fixed. The hole was irreplaceable and was not like a broken seam on a shirt. It could not be sewn back at all, not even by the best thread and needle or by the most delicate fingers. No matter how hard you tried, it was already gone forever. ~

I looked at the ticking clock as I thought about yesterday. Time was ticking endlessly. Minutes were expiring. For the first time, I could not wait to go home. The bell rang its deafening ring again. Breathing hard and fast, I packed my bag as fast as I could, and the next thing I knew was that I was already at the doorstep.

My watch read six o’clock, not eight, nine or ten.

“Is that you, dear?”

Somehow Mother had a sixth sense to detect my presence. Coming home so early was a first and I was pondering about what would happen when I gathered the courage to turn the doorknob. My face felt tight and tense, my toes shivered and called for help despite how warm my shoes were. Mother was callously impatient. I soon found myself eyeing a turning, golden doorknob.

As soon as the door opened, nothing but the delightfully nostalgic and sinfully delicious aromas of Mother’s home cooked dinner entered my longing, hungry nostrils. They made my fragile heart smile and my growling stomach leap with long lost greed.

“Welcome home, hon. Dinner’s ready,” she whispered gently as she took my hand. My fingers had never felt so welcome in such a long time. I sat down, and Mother brought a gleefully big pot of sinful chicken stew and two bowls to the table. I laid my heaven filled spoon on my tongue and sipped it gently. As I mouthed down every spoon, tears rolled down my painfully glistened cheeks.

 “The one who loves you will make you weep,” Mother whispered, rubbing her warm and comforting fingers against my tear clothed cheeks. I threw my weak arms into hers and cried until the next day. If only I realised this earlier. True love lay in the little things Mother had been doing.

 I soon learnt to appreciate the little things in life.