A Pierrot's Muse

Tuesday 19th May 2009
On a journey back home with my dad, we both sat on the top deck of a roofless double-decker bus. I stood, leaning daringly over the front and almost toppled out as the bus screeched to an abrupt halt on cue with the irritated beeping that arose from a small, speeding TJ Walsh bus as it raced past us near a roundabout.

My courage unwavered, I continued standing and turning to my dad I asked, "So, we're going home now, right?"

"No, we're going swimming." Came the reply.

No! I thought, despairing over the lack of geography revision I had done for the exam. I don't have any time!

As I said this, the bus encircled the roundabout which allowed me to get a good look at the gleaming clock tower. The black hands clearly reading quarter to eight. The face of the clock shone with a brilliant, bold yellow-orange gradient which was brightened by the dark blue evening sky.

Despite this, we returned home and I angrily dashed out into a huge garden with houses opposite with cosy, warm yellow lights eminating from each window. I flopped down onto a wooden bench where my geography work lay and tears creeped from my eyes until the dam completely broke.

I don't have time! I repeatedly chanted like a mantra, as I tried to lift up my work to throw it onto the ground. The unusual weight of it, however, prevented me from doing so; it was simply to heavy.

Later, I found myself in the doorway of a dimly lighted bedroom. I saw a bed with white covers - plastic bags lay bundled together atop it, and there was a mirror that stretched the whole length of the wall opposite to where I was stood. From where I was standing I could see someone dressed in black, sat at the wall opposite the mirror -I could only see enough of the figure to conclude the he or she was sitting on a chair - but this person wasn't reflected in the mirror. I also heard a monotonous drone - the person was talking to me, but I couldn't decipher the words. And as if I couldn't, or wasn't allowed to step in to the room, I instead stood on tip toes to see if I could find a reflection but the bags on the bed seemed to grow and obscure my view with each new height that I reached.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt in my chest and wheezed as pain struck it. I clasped at my chest screaming, "It feels like I'm being ripped apart!"
Invisible hands wrapped roughly around my arm and clutched my top directly where the pain was and started to drag me into the room. I couldn't see them, but I could feel and sense them on me. Screams tore helplessly from my lungs.

Uuugh...I have my geography exam today...: (