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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Fantasy / Dreams / Wishes
- Published: 01/29/2014
Full Circle
Born 1998, F, from London, East Ham, United KingdomFull circle
“Lost in the travels…of killing time,”
The versatile melody of the band ‘Half Moon Run’ swayed through Alice as she stared out of her window, transfixed at the shed in the garden. This was the shed that held many mysteries and adventures wrapped in desolation, no matter how unnaturally quiet and foreboding it appeared.
In half of a millisecond she scrambled up to her feet, tore down the stairs and was tying the laces on her scruffy converses. Whilst tying her bootlaces, a kaleidoscope of images flew in her mind as she wondered why she was so curious as to discover the enigma her thoughts created, which lead directly to the shed at the mouth of the garden.
Upon entering the garden, Alice’s world immediately melted behind her leaving an exclamation of trees both barren and with lush greenery. The slick downpour of rain pelted her face as she looked up, her mind in the ash coloured sky and her gravity centered.
Closing her eyes, Alice began to twist and turn her way through the narrow path, starting over as already her ruined boots squelched through the rich oozing mud. Stumbling to the russet worn door, she took a hesitant step forward, slowly turning the silver knob of the latch clockwise. Alice intensified her gaze toward the frosted mint tiles overlapping the structure of the shed as the door swung forward, acknowledging her arrival.
“No fear”, she breathed to herself as the punctured odour of mildew and mothballs invaded her nostrils so imminent that she had to cover her nose with the holes of her sweater. Gingerly stepping inside, there was a gargantuan wall sized bookshelf that groaned underneath the magnanimous upheaval of books drenched with dust.
Never in Alice’s sixteen years had she dared to dream what lay beyond the rising stack of books. With the heart of a child and the wit of a fool, she began to climb eagerly over the vintage ceiling fan propped against a crater of socket plugs. As she soared up higher and closer to the bookshelf, the preternatural atmosphere rested on her shoulders as she almost slipped off the ramshackle furniture…
Regaining her balance, she grabbed the ledge and heaved herself into a kneeling position, where she lifted the books one by one off the shelves, each volume emanating the silence that guided her mind to a place so far away. Sighing to no one in particular, a light eerie wind seeped through her bones and caused an adrenaline rush as Alice spied a small collection of volumes, with all intricately woven tribal patterns into the spines of the books.
Immediately she grabbed the heavy stack of books, aware of the scuttling of insects and spiders in the background. Ignoring the nonsensical sound effect, she began her merciless journey down from the avalanche of disused ceramic plates and furniture.
Emerging from the shed like a fearless warrior, Alice was covered from head to toe in a layer of dust and cobwebs with her ragged shoulder length hair ruffled from the wind; she looked like she belonged in the Addams family. Clenching the books in her arms safely for protection against the rain, the sky was still weeping tears. Whilst her calf muscles burned as her legs nearly buckled underneath the load of the hardbacks, the garden was still at its morbid nature. The reminiscence of skeletal trees and lush greenery contrasted against the miserable January weather.
“Wake me up when September ends”, Alice sang cynically as she trudged up to her room.
A waterfall of herbal shampoos and lotions after, Alice was sitting cross legged on her bed staring at the first book which had caught her eyes. The front cover bore no resemblance to a title or the author’s name as there was only a circle imprinted onto the book. Curiosity swept over her as she turned the front page of the book over only to be hurdled into a dimension of colours burnt bright, painting a picture of dancing images which soon turned to figures of mist.
This vision was so surreal, to that say the least, that Alice took a moment to reassess her surroundings, making sure to rub her eyes and pinch herself three times on her arm, which was sore nonetheless from the fall she experienced into this virtual dimension. There was a door at the end of a hallway, a clock above it that chimed six o ‘clock – but which was meant to be twelve o’clock as Alice had lost her sense of time.
However the door appeared to be familiar as Alice skimmed the flaked russet woodchips with her fingernails, but before she could blink the latch opened and Alice was falling through a tunnel. Her hallucinations finally transported her back to her bedroom, where she sat wonderstruck by an idea to write a story about a girl who visited an abstract universe in a book from the shed at the mouth of the garden.
Full Circle(Anisa Chowdhury)
Full circle
“Lost in the travels…of killing time,”
The versatile melody of the band ‘Half Moon Run’ swayed through Alice as she stared out of her window, transfixed at the shed in the garden. This was the shed that held many mysteries and adventures wrapped in desolation, no matter how unnaturally quiet and foreboding it appeared.
In half of a millisecond she scrambled up to her feet, tore down the stairs and was tying the laces on her scruffy converses. Whilst tying her bootlaces, a kaleidoscope of images flew in her mind as she wondered why she was so curious as to discover the enigma her thoughts created, which lead directly to the shed at the mouth of the garden.
Upon entering the garden, Alice’s world immediately melted behind her leaving an exclamation of trees both barren and with lush greenery. The slick downpour of rain pelted her face as she looked up, her mind in the ash coloured sky and her gravity centered.
Closing her eyes, Alice began to twist and turn her way through the narrow path, starting over as already her ruined boots squelched through the rich oozing mud. Stumbling to the russet worn door, she took a hesitant step forward, slowly turning the silver knob of the latch clockwise. Alice intensified her gaze toward the frosted mint tiles overlapping the structure of the shed as the door swung forward, acknowledging her arrival.
“No fear”, she breathed to herself as the punctured odour of mildew and mothballs invaded her nostrils so imminent that she had to cover her nose with the holes of her sweater. Gingerly stepping inside, there was a gargantuan wall sized bookshelf that groaned underneath the magnanimous upheaval of books drenched with dust.
Never in Alice’s sixteen years had she dared to dream what lay beyond the rising stack of books. With the heart of a child and the wit of a fool, she began to climb eagerly over the vintage ceiling fan propped against a crater of socket plugs. As she soared up higher and closer to the bookshelf, the preternatural atmosphere rested on her shoulders as she almost slipped off the ramshackle furniture…
Regaining her balance, she grabbed the ledge and heaved herself into a kneeling position, where she lifted the books one by one off the shelves, each volume emanating the silence that guided her mind to a place so far away. Sighing to no one in particular, a light eerie wind seeped through her bones and caused an adrenaline rush as Alice spied a small collection of volumes, with all intricately woven tribal patterns into the spines of the books.
Immediately she grabbed the heavy stack of books, aware of the scuttling of insects and spiders in the background. Ignoring the nonsensical sound effect, she began her merciless journey down from the avalanche of disused ceramic plates and furniture.
Emerging from the shed like a fearless warrior, Alice was covered from head to toe in a layer of dust and cobwebs with her ragged shoulder length hair ruffled from the wind; she looked like she belonged in the Addams family. Clenching the books in her arms safely for protection against the rain, the sky was still weeping tears. Whilst her calf muscles burned as her legs nearly buckled underneath the load of the hardbacks, the garden was still at its morbid nature. The reminiscence of skeletal trees and lush greenery contrasted against the miserable January weather.
“Wake me up when September ends”, Alice sang cynically as she trudged up to her room.
A waterfall of herbal shampoos and lotions after, Alice was sitting cross legged on her bed staring at the first book which had caught her eyes. The front cover bore no resemblance to a title or the author’s name as there was only a circle imprinted onto the book. Curiosity swept over her as she turned the front page of the book over only to be hurdled into a dimension of colours burnt bright, painting a picture of dancing images which soon turned to figures of mist.
This vision was so surreal, to that say the least, that Alice took a moment to reassess her surroundings, making sure to rub her eyes and pinch herself three times on her arm, which was sore nonetheless from the fall she experienced into this virtual dimension. There was a door at the end of a hallway, a clock above it that chimed six o ‘clock – but which was meant to be twelve o’clock as Alice had lost her sense of time.
However the door appeared to be familiar as Alice skimmed the flaked russet woodchips with her fingernails, but before she could blink the latch opened and Alice was falling through a tunnel. Her hallucinations finally transported her back to her bedroom, where she sat wonderstruck by an idea to write a story about a girl who visited an abstract universe in a book from the shed at the mouth of the garden.
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