omg creative writing i did last year. need to put on blog so i dont ever loose this piece.
It was the last picture I ever took with him before he became a stranger.I walked down the hill into a large field, tears in my eyes. Amidst the field I stopped, closed my eyes and inhaled. The wind blew, picking up my hair. Eyes now open, I exhale. While walking, almost floating, I could feel the long grass tickle at my fingers. After walking what seemed like a horribly long time, I come across a set of swings. The push of wind ignites the metal chains on swing sets to screech. And a different noise catches my attention. And that’s when I saw him’.He was always a stranger to me now, but how so, I do not know as I stumble past him at almost every other family gathering. There was something there about him that always made me learn more, or help him more. And the fact that there was something rather than nothing was quite clear to me. But by the time I build up the courage to confront him, my bus is already here impatiently waiting for me to embark. I realised now there is no interruption, I would talk to him. Secretly however, I hoped there would be another bus stopping me in my tracks and take me away, leaving him as the stranger at my bus stop.He was sitting underneath an oak tree, which was awkwardly in a field of green grass. I had always come to this field whenever I felt upset or saddened by something but I have never come this way nor noticed this tree. As I walked, the leaves crackled underneath my heavy steps. The stranger looked at me with the same puzzling look he always had when I saw him, it was becoming increasingly frustrating to have no ability whatsoever to read him.We’d always watch the cricket together while munching on yummy treats. He would shout at the tiny television set when a batsman did something wrong. “Come on you egg! What do you think you are doing?” He would bellow. Sometimes I would think he was mad. Was he expecting a reply? It didn’t matter to him though, as he’d just keep shouting; picking me up in his arms again and swinging me around when something was done right and then heaved really loudly while putting me back down as though he just went for a long run. His eyes were like the colour of the tropic rainforest. And they would glare me in as we played a game of who can stare without blinking the longest. It made me angry that he would always win, but he promised me that one day he would teach me the trick to it.. I was so eager to learn whatever I could from him. The definition of the word hero is “a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his noble qualities”. To some, that person may be George Washington, Barack Obama, or even Peter Griffin. But for me, it was him.He taught me the kind of things that school teachers never could teach in the classroom. And the best thing I liked was that he gave me space to let my free spirit wander. The time went by so slow, but neither of us complained as we had so much to do. I think I made him feel special, because I felt special as he always reminded me. “Darling, you will forever and always be special to me” he would grunt. His breath smelt of cheese but the meaning of his words was still as meaningful. He was quick to fall asleep on his rocking chair which he has had for as long as I can remember mouth open and making noises like my dad’s lawn mower did when it didn’t work. He always failed to notice the tiny fly that kept flying around his mouth, but I was amused by this so decided not to shoo it away. I have been coming to his house so often that I knew exactly when he would rise from his nap. So for the time being I looked around his home. While twirling my hair, I raised my neck to look at the photos that were put up on his poorly painted wall. I peered closely, trying to remember the details that make up who he is. The way his hair sticks out and how when he smiles his eyes get smaller. I was young but even I knew that our times spent together wouldn’t last for long. He had this ld fashioned camera which could take Polaroid pictures and he said “Lets take a picture, because we know that they last longer” And after that, the picture was all that I had of us.Like the parting of the red sea, there was a fine line between reality and memory. And I realized that, all of those things are not coming back to this present moment.I snapped back and rubbed my eyes noticing he was on top of the tree. As I cautiously walked around the twigs I looked at his appearance. He was definitely not the same person he was 5 years ago when I was 11. Now, he is a stranger. His eyes didn’t have the same warmth as they used to. He doesn’t play the games with me that he used to. He had bags under his eyes, which he didn’t use to. Worst of all, I heard he doesn’t even watch cricket, like he used to. He has forgotten us all as a disease by the name of Alzheimer’s hit. I suddenly felt so sad and was about to burst into tears. I want to become acutely aware of all that i have taken for granted. I realized there is something strange about humanity. We only start to cherish life after a tragedy occurs in our life. Only then do we realize what we have. But even that only lasts for a short while, and we become lazier and get back into our old routines until something else occurs. Why is that? I noticed that it was so late but although the sun was set and gone, the stars burned brightly in the sky that was black like velvet. And then he said something to me as I brushed my hair from my face and raised my eyelids to look at him. “The trick is to let the other person think there’s a trick.” He grinned to me and walked away singing to himself. I realized that stranger never really was one. Sometimes people surprise you, sometimes they come up with the most astonishing things that genuinely leave you scrambling for something meaningful to say back in return. All I could say was “thank you, for everything”. My grandfather, you will always be a hero to me.
