This is something that I recently handed in for my Fiction Writing module on my Creative Writing course at university. We had a limit of one thousand and five hundred words. I'm also thinking of making it into a novel or a series of novels. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.
Some of us bruise easily.
She goes through life to achieve her goals. I’ll laugh, cry, establish a career, find a soul mate … and grieve. I’ll come across obstacles that stand in my way and stop me from reaching the other side. But what if I couldn’t cross those bridges so easily? I might not be able to move on and so never ever become strong enough to face what comes next.
“What are we going to do about the shopping, Kara?” asked Mrs Jones one sunny Saturday morning, placing her stubby arms onto her hips.
The teenager slumped against the sofa in the corner merely shrugged. Kara Jones was being quieter than usual – and her mother didn’t take note of this. It wasn’t that Mrs Jones didn’t care for her daughter, but the fact that Kara was good at masking how she really felt. Well, if there was much for her to feel, anyway.
“… I don’t really know which one of these stores to go to either,” Mrs Jones was saying in mid-conversation. “I suppose our Asda is their Wal-Mart, so it’s probably best just going there …”
“I’m going out for a walk; is that ok?” asked Kara, suddenly feeling the need to rise to her feet and get away to escape the constant babbling.
After a reassuring, lenient nod, Kara found she was finally able to breathe once she was out through the front door. At times like these, she wanted to scream at her mum for picking nonsensical things as excuses for holding back their real problems. It had been the change from pounds to dollars yesterday and now it was the shopping.
She walked across three blocks until she stopped at a large white building, home to several floors of apartments. But with a brisk turn, Kara headed to the steps that went down to the basement floor. She knocked on the door and waited patiently, whilst not really caring for anyone who was staring at her, just because she was the new kid on the block.
“GO AWAY!” barked the voice of an elderly man.
“Hey, Roger! It’s me!” Kara called through the tiny gap in on the top right hand side of the door.
A short silence followed until Roger appeared at the door after unlocking it once he knew it was safe to do so. One hand pushed the door away and revealed the other to be holding on to his walking stick. A huge smile appeared on his face.
“Why didn’t you say it was you, Kara? Come in, come in!” he chuckled lightly. “So are you here to use the room again? I don’t know what moves you kids bust to nowadays, but we were big with swing back in the days!”
They came to what appeared to be a changing room and Roger looked towards another door that led somewhere else. He continued to smile, watching Kara pull out her necessary equipment.
“Right, I’ll let you get on with it, girlfriend! Heh, heh!”
With Roger’s departure, Kara walked into the room that he had been referring to and allowed that familiar feeling of awe to overwhelm her, as she stepped into the rehearsal room. The mirrors were on all four walls, enabling her to see what she was doing at all times. The wooden floorboards were somewhat slippery, but this would be good for what she was about to do.
Her footsteps echoed through the room, as she went to go and plug in the iPod dock station. She quickly selected the song she wanted, waited in the centre of the room and closed her eyes until the music began.
Kara reopened her eyes, feeling the beat of the song, and swayed to the slow music. When it began to pick up, she started to use what she had been taught and did several cartwheels and twirled around on one foot. She felt that she could do this so effortlessly. As the chorus came along, Kara brought in her best moves and pushed herself.
When the music cut out, she thought it may have been the power again. However, when she turned around, Kara caught sight of a dashing young man of around her age.
“I didn’t turn off the music, I swear.”
His American accent echoed through the serene and silent room. Kara instantly took in his physical features. The newcomer had messy, short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She noticed the vacant expression on his face, almost as if he was expecting a response from her. Kara folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.
“Roger, the old man that lives here,” he explained calmly. “He always lets me in. I just didn’t know someone else was –”
“Well, you can go, ok?” interrupted Kara.
“What’s the problem here? There’s no need to be so angry.”
“I came here to dance and it’s a CLOSED rehearsal!”
“Oh, I just knew Roger was talking about you the other day!” he grinned, proceeding to sit down on a nearby bench. “What was that song playing now by the way?”
Kara looked at her iPod dock station and rolled her eyes at him. She came here to get away from the rest of the world, but now felt something compelling her to deal with this invasion of privacy.
“Probably no one you’ve ever heard of,” she said. “If you’re going to stick around for a while, you should tell me your name before I start calling you a jerk.”
“It’s funny hearing that in an English accent!” he chuckled. “I’m Mark Richardson.”
“Kara Jones,” Kara merely said.
“So what’s your childhood trauma?” retorted Mark.
Pretending to ignore him, she walked back to her iPod dock station and took out a few batteries from her backpack next to it. After inserting them in, Kara returned to the song that she had originally danced to. She waited at the centre of the room, unaware that Mark was watching – his curiosity suddenly perking up – and repeated everything in her routine.
She closed her eyes until the music kicked in. Feeling the beat of the song once more, Kara reopened her eyes and swayed to the slow beat. When the music picked up, she performed a few cartwheels and span around on her right foot. She leapt in the air when Cheryl Cole sang the chorus.
“’Cause I came here to dance, I’m gonna put my hands and … stand up?” Mark pondered aloud.
As soon as he said this, Kara tumbled to the floor from doing a spinning jump. Her right hip collided with the wooden floors with a loud thud. Despite the music still playing, Mark was on his feet instantly and by Kara’s side within seconds.
“May I?” he asked, indicating to her the injury underneath her orange vest top.
“Are you really that perverted?” she hissed.
“My mom’s a doctor. I learned a few things from her,” Mark said.
Kara nodded. Why didn’t she realise there was that possibility in the first place? Perhaps she had this reserved perception of American boys from the movies that she’d watched over the years. But yet the grim reality was the fact that one little distraction could have probably cost Kara of her one true love.
She felt Mark slowly lifting up the bottom of her vest top. Having to be exposed to a stranger scared her, but there was no one else to help her. Barely a second later had she felt a sharp piercing pain in her ribs when he pressed his finger onto her skin.
“Ouch! Are you trying to torture me here?” she snapped.
“Sorry that I’m not Doctor Leonard McCoy,” remarked Mark.
Kara rolled her eyes. She was not particularly a fan of science fiction, anyway. It wasn’t like she had enough time to pay attention to television anymore. There was something about Mark that infuriated her to the core – and she didn’t know what.
“Shall we get you up then?” he chuckled softly.
As his hand slipped through her fingers, Kara instantly felt hot and bothered. She felt him grasp her wrist. Her insides started boiling like a kettle.
“LET GO OF ME!” she screamed.
Mark, who looked genuinely astonished by her violent behaviour, took a step back. Kara noticed his eyes were diverted to the long curve-shaped scar on her left wrist. She was shaking with a mix of fear and rage.
“That’s why you dance, isn’t it?” sighed Mark, as he sat down on the floor.
“What do you know?” scowled Kara.
“Enough to know you’re a very angry person, Kara,” he sighed sadly, shaking his head. “Why do you dance, anyway?”
“There’s no other way to express myself,” she replied, shrugging.
“And it makes you happy, right?”
“I suppose.”
“You know, I’m starting to think Roger set us up,” grinned Mark.
“Ha, I think you’re right,” smiled Kara.
“So what’s that song again?” he asked.
Expression
Some of us bruise easily.
She goes through life to achieve her goals. I’ll laugh, cry, establish a career, find a soul mate … and grieve. I’ll come across obstacles that stand in my way and stop me from reaching the other side. But what if I couldn’t cross those bridges so easily? I might not be able to move on and so never ever become strong enough to face what comes next.
“What are we going to do about the shopping, Kara?” asked Mrs Jones one sunny Saturday morning, placing her stubby arms onto her hips.
The teenager slumped against the sofa in the corner merely shrugged. Kara Jones was being quieter than usual – and her mother didn’t take note of this. It wasn’t that Mrs Jones didn’t care for her daughter, but the fact that Kara was good at masking how she really felt. Well, if there was much for her to feel, anyway.
“… I don’t really know which one of these stores to go to either,” Mrs Jones was saying in mid-conversation. “I suppose our Asda is their Wal-Mart, so it’s probably best just going there …”
“I’m going out for a walk; is that ok?” asked Kara, suddenly feeling the need to rise to her feet and get away to escape the constant babbling.
After a reassuring, lenient nod, Kara found she was finally able to breathe once she was out through the front door. At times like these, she wanted to scream at her mum for picking nonsensical things as excuses for holding back their real problems. It had been the change from pounds to dollars yesterday and now it was the shopping.
She walked across three blocks until she stopped at a large white building, home to several floors of apartments. But with a brisk turn, Kara headed to the steps that went down to the basement floor. She knocked on the door and waited patiently, whilst not really caring for anyone who was staring at her, just because she was the new kid on the block.
“GO AWAY!” barked the voice of an elderly man.
“Hey, Roger! It’s me!” Kara called through the tiny gap in on the top right hand side of the door.
A short silence followed until Roger appeared at the door after unlocking it once he knew it was safe to do so. One hand pushed the door away and revealed the other to be holding on to his walking stick. A huge smile appeared on his face.
“Why didn’t you say it was you, Kara? Come in, come in!” he chuckled lightly. “So are you here to use the room again? I don’t know what moves you kids bust to nowadays, but we were big with swing back in the days!”
They came to what appeared to be a changing room and Roger looked towards another door that led somewhere else. He continued to smile, watching Kara pull out her necessary equipment.
“Right, I’ll let you get on with it, girlfriend! Heh, heh!”
With Roger’s departure, Kara walked into the room that he had been referring to and allowed that familiar feeling of awe to overwhelm her, as she stepped into the rehearsal room. The mirrors were on all four walls, enabling her to see what she was doing at all times. The wooden floorboards were somewhat slippery, but this would be good for what she was about to do.
Her footsteps echoed through the room, as she went to go and plug in the iPod dock station. She quickly selected the song she wanted, waited in the centre of the room and closed her eyes until the music began.
Kara reopened her eyes, feeling the beat of the song, and swayed to the slow music. When it began to pick up, she started to use what she had been taught and did several cartwheels and twirled around on one foot. She felt that she could do this so effortlessly. As the chorus came along, Kara brought in her best moves and pushed herself.
When the music cut out, she thought it may have been the power again. However, when she turned around, Kara caught sight of a dashing young man of around her age.
“I didn’t turn off the music, I swear.”
His American accent echoed through the serene and silent room. Kara instantly took in his physical features. The newcomer had messy, short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She noticed the vacant expression on his face, almost as if he was expecting a response from her. Kara folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.
“Roger, the old man that lives here,” he explained calmly. “He always lets me in. I just didn’t know someone else was –”
“Well, you can go, ok?” interrupted Kara.
“What’s the problem here? There’s no need to be so angry.”
“I came here to dance and it’s a CLOSED rehearsal!”
“Oh, I just knew Roger was talking about you the other day!” he grinned, proceeding to sit down on a nearby bench. “What was that song playing now by the way?”
Kara looked at her iPod dock station and rolled her eyes at him. She came here to get away from the rest of the world, but now felt something compelling her to deal with this invasion of privacy.
“Probably no one you’ve ever heard of,” she said. “If you’re going to stick around for a while, you should tell me your name before I start calling you a jerk.”
“It’s funny hearing that in an English accent!” he chuckled. “I’m Mark Richardson.”
“Kara Jones,” Kara merely said.
“So what’s your childhood trauma?” retorted Mark.
Pretending to ignore him, she walked back to her iPod dock station and took out a few batteries from her backpack next to it. After inserting them in, Kara returned to the song that she had originally danced to. She waited at the centre of the room, unaware that Mark was watching – his curiosity suddenly perking up – and repeated everything in her routine.
She closed her eyes until the music kicked in. Feeling the beat of the song once more, Kara reopened her eyes and swayed to the slow beat. When the music picked up, she performed a few cartwheels and span around on her right foot. She leapt in the air when Cheryl Cole sang the chorus.
“’Cause I came here to dance, I’m gonna put my hands and … stand up?” Mark pondered aloud.
As soon as he said this, Kara tumbled to the floor from doing a spinning jump. Her right hip collided with the wooden floors with a loud thud. Despite the music still playing, Mark was on his feet instantly and by Kara’s side within seconds.
“May I?” he asked, indicating to her the injury underneath her orange vest top.
“Are you really that perverted?” she hissed.
“My mom’s a doctor. I learned a few things from her,” Mark said.
Kara nodded. Why didn’t she realise there was that possibility in the first place? Perhaps she had this reserved perception of American boys from the movies that she’d watched over the years. But yet the grim reality was the fact that one little distraction could have probably cost Kara of her one true love.
She felt Mark slowly lifting up the bottom of her vest top. Having to be exposed to a stranger scared her, but there was no one else to help her. Barely a second later had she felt a sharp piercing pain in her ribs when he pressed his finger onto her skin.
“Ouch! Are you trying to torture me here?” she snapped.
“Sorry that I’m not Doctor Leonard McCoy,” remarked Mark.
Kara rolled her eyes. She was not particularly a fan of science fiction, anyway. It wasn’t like she had enough time to pay attention to television anymore. There was something about Mark that infuriated her to the core – and she didn’t know what.
“Shall we get you up then?” he chuckled softly.
As his hand slipped through her fingers, Kara instantly felt hot and bothered. She felt him grasp her wrist. Her insides started boiling like a kettle.
“LET GO OF ME!” she screamed.
Mark, who looked genuinely astonished by her violent behaviour, took a step back. Kara noticed his eyes were diverted to the long curve-shaped scar on her left wrist. She was shaking with a mix of fear and rage.
“That’s why you dance, isn’t it?” sighed Mark, as he sat down on the floor.
“What do you know?” scowled Kara.
“Enough to know you’re a very angry person, Kara,” he sighed sadly, shaking his head. “Why do you dance, anyway?”
“There’s no other way to express myself,” she replied, shrugging.
“And it makes you happy, right?”
“I suppose.”
“You know, I’m starting to think Roger set us up,” grinned Mark.
“Ha, I think you’re right,” smiled Kara.
“So what’s that song again?” he asked.