The Daydream(Kirsten Elliott) (Note that Kirsten was 16 years old when she wrote this story.)


Sea green sunset eyes. The green was like the deepest part of a wild ocean with flecks of gold like shards of light captured at the final good night kiss of a fiery sunset. The centre piece of his day dream. Like priceless diamonds set in shimmering gold they were surrounded by perfect skin bronzed by the sun. This fantasy girl had an entrancingly beautiful face framed by waves of flowing black hair. She spoke kind words he could not seem to understand with red, passionate lips. The feel of her warm arm enclosing him made him feel safe and the tantalising feel of her breath on his cheek. This nameless siren bent down to kiss him and...

The sound of a fog horn brought him back to reality. He became aware of the dampness of the sand beneath him seeping through his shirt. The tangy, dirty smell of the rain soaked beach and the squabbling of nearby children stopped him slipping back into the embrace of his fantasy. These daydreams always left him feeling depressed. They showed the difference between the perfection he strived for and the unrelenting misery of his own life.

Oliver roused himself, trying not to fall into one of his black moods. They were the times when nothing in his life seemed right. Every friendship was tainted with betrayal and awkwardness. He seemed able to find fault with everyone he knew and most of all himself. He relived every pain and embarrassment and felt doubtful of every achievement of his life. Then he would be disgusted at himself for his own self pity and selfishness - here he was, an intelligent, middle class boy with exam success and an allegedly glowing future feeling sorry for himself. He was guilty of taking everything for granted and giving in to the loneliness and dejection that was really his own fault.

A couple of times, possibly the worst in his life, he had found himself mourning for everyone in the world. Every motherless child and every childless mother. The women forced to sell their bodies. The AIDS victims, hurricane victims, the homeless and the disabled. The enormous tragedies that destroyed lives and the small cruelties that ruined people's belief in themselves. Worst of all was the thought that he was doing nothing to make the world a better place, to help those who needed help so badly.

Just as his thoughts were becoming more maudlin and he was falling into the blackness of his own soul a girl sat beside him, a few metres away. She had fiery red hair and pale skin like white silk. The pretty rainbow bracelet around her wrist caught his attention as she tucked a strand of hair behind her perfect ear. As she tipped her face towards the fading sun he realised how beautiful she was, far more so than the girl of his dreams. He wondered what it would be like to speak to her, engage her attention, ask her out. Part of his soul knew, or hoped, that she was his perfect match.

She glanced up and he caught sight of his dream girls sea green sunset eyes. He imagined looking deep into her eyes and kissing her. Perfection. Ecstasy. They would be the perfect couple. They liked all the same things, would spend all their time together and be perfectly happy. All the things he hated about himself would no longer matter. She would love him. All he had to do was reach across and talk to her.

Just as he was summoning the courage and frantically trying to think of the ideal first words, she stood up and walked over to greet a dark haired girl at the other end of the beach. Yet he was not worried, too large a part of him was entranced by the pale curve of the back of her calf. With unusual certainty he believed she would come back. He was her soul mate; she had to feel that.

Then something happened that shattered his perfect future. The girl raised her lips and kissed the friend. Lover. Oliver cursed himself for his naivety, his false hopes. How could he be foolish enough to lose his heart to a stranger? He reflected that love at first sight was not as wonderful as song writers made it out to be and returned to battling his own loneliness and self-hatred.

---