Last Updated 06 Jul 2020

Personal and Imaginative – Scarred for Life

Category personal
Essay type Personal
Words 1291 (5 pages)
Views 430

This was it.

My legs were lead; my head throbbed violently. It felt as if the energy within me had slowly oozed away. I dragged my feet like I was being held down by iron chains. Gathering every ounce of my might, I heaved myself towards the bench- and collapsed upon it.

Where was I? No clue. That was all I'd been saying to myself since the taxi left. And how long ago was that? Two hours...three hours...four hours? Still no clue. I hated myself for being so thick. If it wasn't for my 'thick' brain, I would have been home by now. Home. I felt useless.

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"What the hell you doin' ere?" I looked up so fast it made my neck click; my anger rose. It was a brown haired boy who I guessed was trying to pass the time. I found him annoying. I wasn't in the mood of talking to anyone-I hardly ever was.

"You tell me." I replied stiffly.

"Ain't seen you around this place." I felt like punching him. I hated this about some people, butting in when they were least wanted.

"That's 'cause I ain't from dis place." I grumbled, glancing at him, thinking how much longer is he going to stay? There was a pause. Then, just as soon as I expected him to leave, he demanded, "Where you from then?"

"Look yeh, I don't know you an' I ain't in da mood. So move." I stated through gritted teeth, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster. He finally got the message and went off, gruffly.

I didn't understand myself; I never used to be like this. My mood switched within seconds and I knew that many people found it hard around me. Even my own mates kept their distance from me at times. But they understood that I had a past. Life had changed a lot for me, and since that change, I was never the same person.

I cast my eyes around, taking in my surroundings. Even though the street lamps were alight, the road seemed unusually dark. I squinted and could just make out the scenes of every day life before me. Here and there figures would move about; some closing their shops, others walking hastily, making their way home. I gazed blankly at the movements, not bothering to move from my seat. Eventually, the very last of the people edged away towards the end of the street, their silhouettes disappearing from under the very last street lamp.

Silence followed.

Almost radically, a harsh wind had begun to bluster, causing my numb face to sting. Fed up with my position, I pulled up my hood, got up from the rigid bench and stepped on to the road. The sound of my trainers hitting against the pavement seemed to echo into the night, leaving behind a lethal dead-like silence like that of graveyard. Trying to block out this atmosphere, I began to recount the event that occurred on the taxi...

I couldn't believe my stupidity. Losing my mobile was one thing- but losing my purse-on the same day...a bit extreme huh? And to make matters worse, being the idiot that I am, I tried to get home in a taxi when I was totally broke! The reaction the driver had when he realised I wasn't going pay was severe to say the least. I knew people had strange solutions but leaving me in the middle of God-knows-where was a bit too strange. Sad or what? Well, what was done was done and I knew there was no way in changing it. Thinking about it wasn't going to get me anywhere. My main priority was to see how to get home. I inhaled deeply as the bleak air rushed in to my blood. What was the point in living when surviving was so hard?

Upon reaching the end of the street, I became aware of the bend which had not been visible to me from the bench. It was murky and even at this distance I could not make out what lay on its other side. As I began to make my way through it, my stomach gave a discomforting squirm. I didn't know why that was? Was it the darkness that had just fallen over me? Or the strengthening of the silence which had now reached its peak?

Being able to distinguish traces of a light, I became relieved to know that I had entered just another street. This time there were no shops, but instead stood half a dozen or so houses, which I could tell were grand as well as ancient. They were positioned with a great deal of space and on either side of the road which lay in front of me. At the far end, I could discriminate the park which stood out due to its rusty iron gate.

As my vision became clearer, I noticed a dark profile standing within the shadow of the great oak tree. Who would be out at this time of night? Or was it a trick of light? Sensing movement, I knew for sure that it wasn't just a fragment of my imagination. My heart began to beat loudly, vibrating heavily in my throat. Now I knew I wasn't alone.

It ambled out from under the tree; light shining upon its limp body. Slowly, it began dragging its body in an oddly held manner. It - he was hurt. A slow moaning uttered from his mouth, and my fear turned into grief on seeing the pain radiating from him. On realising that his direction was headed my way, I heaved my body behind the nearest bush, afraid of being seen.

From his gnawed, wrinkly hands, I realised he was well aged. His face was entirely hidden, due to the hood of his festering coat. He had now reached a house opposite me, one which I had not noticed due to its miniscule size. It was dilapidated and it showed no sign of warmth. Was this his house? I heard keys dropping, breaking the silence, and watched as he bent to pick them up. As he did so, his hood fell from his face.

I screamed...

Everything was indistinct, the face flashed in front of me again, yet this time it looked younger by a few years. I could hear loud terrible screaming from within my own head. So loud that I thought that my head would explode. The screaming went on, never ending. The pain searing in the shrill cries was too much to take in. The screaming didn't come from the face, yet I recognised it. But it couldn't be! I tried to cry for help but nothing came out. Slowly, the picture blurred and my vision became focused...

My inhalation was hard, my heart aching endlessly. I tried to hold my breath, trembling from head to toe. Cold sweat trickled down my face and my clothes were soaked, clinging to my skin.

How much time had passed?

A door slammed shut, its reverberation hanging in the atmosphere. I turned my head towards the house- had the man just gone in?

It had been ten years. Ten long, painful years since I had heard my brother's voice, shrieking with agonising pain just the same as on that night. The night that I last saw him alive. Was it just a coincidence that I had just seen the convict? All I remembered was the assassin's terribly scarred face, which had appeared there on the day my brother had fought eagerly for his life, aiming viciously at his face. This man was marked - scarred for life. Since then, I had promised myself to find the man who had finished my little brother off- and now that I had found him, there was no way I was going to let him escape. Not this time.

No way...

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Personal and Imaginative – Scarred for Life. (2017, Oct 27). Retrieved from https://phdessay.com/personal-imaginative-scarred-life/

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