Trying a little something new. Something I’ve wanted to do for a while. For the next few days, I will be posting the pieces I submitted for my Writing Minor Portfolio. They are all from classes I took Sophomore to Senior Year at Keene State College. Most of them are memoir in nature, but a few are slightly different. These are pieces I love, but know still need work. If you would like to know more of the stories behind the pieces, let me know and I will be happy to share! Also, any and all constructive feedback is always welcome – just because these were the final versions to be submitted doesn’t mean that they are perfect.
A Dream Story, Written for Cooking, Eating and Dreaming, Written Junior Year.
I had been hiding in my room all day, wondering why my head did not fit anymore. The clock told me it was time to rest. I prepare to go to bed, brushing my teeth at a row of sinks. There is a song I can’t quite name in the distance. My head rises in slow motion to look in the mirror, but the face looking back is a stranger. I close my eyes. “One… two… three.” When I open them again, the face is still not my own. The eyes, nose and mouth are the same, but it is not me. A cocktail of confusion and fear enters my body, and I turn to exit the bathroom. Upon opening the ugly dark wooden door, I am met with another door. This one is prettier, painted white with a window filled with darkness. I push the door open, and am face to face with the stranger that had frightened me only moments before.
I ask her what is going on. “Shhh” is her answer. She points to her right, her eyes never leaving mine. “Who are you?” I whisper, afraid to hear the answer. She simply smiles. I turn my head and look in the direction of her pointed hand.
Suddenly, I am standing in a field, full of sun, blue sky, and yellow daisies. My twin stranger is standing on top of a hill, her white dress blowing in the wind. “Who are you?!” I try to yell, but it comes out as a whisper.
The sky has turns grey as the stones, an eerie blue tint has fallen on the earth. I find myself on top of the hill, surrounded by graves. There are no names, but each is adorned with the same date: “
June 23, 1978.” I
turn to see my unrecognizable doppelganger standing in front of me, holding a
birthday cake with a blue candle, decorated with white frosting, pink trim and
black roses. Her face wears a mask of
fear and desperation. Her blue eyes fill
with tears as she blows out the candle.
Slowly she fades away, placing the cake in my hands. “Wait!” I cry out. “Where did you come from? Where are you going?” A hint of a melancholy smile is formed by her pink lips as one tear slides down her face.
A room of mirrors erects itself around me. I close my eyes, but this time when I open them, I recognize the face in the mirror. Bringing the platter to my face, I take a bite of the cake, my face covered in butter cream and chocolate. Her voice rings out with the song I heard in the bathroom: “Happy Birthday to You”.