Restless Waiting Book

I saw my father, young and determined, working at the crack of dawn in the brickyard, while my mother stayed home to childproof their small apartment. Using the potent mixture of caffeine and chemicals contained in Mountain Dew, he was able to resist the urge to doze off during his daily classes. I saw myself running around the large oak tree that dwarfed our first house, and couldn’t help but smile as I thought about my mom, pregnant with my sister, walking me to the library to play with the puppets and pick up books about my favorite dinosaurs. I saw the terrifying night that the oak tree was stuck by lightning, and heard my mothers voice over the phone at school, eagerly telling me about my new baby brother. My stream of consciousness was broken as we entered the scorching area where they bake the bricks, but I quickly zoned out again as my grandpa began to explain the technical aspects of brickmaking. This time, the memories took place in a new house, as our cozy home had turned claustrophobic with the addition of a fifth member. Quiet walks to the library were replaced with chaotic days at the pool. The cards began to pick up speed, as I got deeper into my life. The dark years of middle school, when my hair covered my eyes and I

“I’ll never hit you in the face where it will leave a mark...” The words rushed in, taunting. The cold emptiness in the tone, like he was there in the room, whispering in her ear. And all at once, the fear was back. The raw fear that gripped her body like a vice and left her gulping in air. In a panic, she whirled her head around the room. She was alone. Relief flooded her, but the sickening butterflies remained. She gripped the counter until her knuckles turned white; outlining the jagged scar more prominently, and she fought to steady her breathing, blink back the tears, focus on something else.

The ride home was much different than the ride to the hospital, Mrs. Girroir reminisced about all the good and the bad times they shared. She told me how he served in the U.S. Army during the Korean War and got several Medals of Honor. She told me the story of how they met in Honduras while he was stationed there. She grinned as she explained how he told her father he would marry her before they even spoke to one another. He was a very confident man, very romantic, yet stubborn and sarcastic. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the girls and saw them smiling listening intently to their mothers stories. The mood was no longer melancholy but lighthearted almost mirthful. We attended the funeral, Janice and I. We had become a part of their family, experienced both sorrow and pain alongside them.

As she hastily made her way through the long-winded hallway, the realisation of her husband being away at war suddenly hit her. The delight evident on her face swiftly turned into an expression of extreme woe. Heartbroken by the fact that he was missing this major milestone, her eyes were a waterfall, dripped with salty tears down her

Learning to fight for your life was easier than this. Though the life was difficult in itself nothing came close to the difficulty of watching someone you love walk away, it seemed to only get harder even if it was your fault in the end. Pushing people away was a specialty of his and when it actually worked it was earth shattering. The silence pointed out the flaws that he’d managed to go without noticing with her by his side but now they screamed at him yet again. He was back to the self-destructive, sacrificial, self-loathing creature he always was. Though he always knew his family was broken it wasn’t even close to this damaged. He wasn’t the only one that felt the loss, his brother had lost someone as well. It was a feeling in the air

I came to a halt. My hands were bloodied and bruised. I finally let out the tears, and it wasn’t because of the pain I inflicted on my hands. It was realisation of losing my friend. Maybe we would have been more than that, even- if he was alive. I heaved, I whimpered, I couldn’t breathe. I yelled in agony, my fists didn’t hurt like how my heart

The pad of my thumb slides over my cheek, wiping away tears. I step closer, putting my hands on her hips, pulling her closer. “I don’t understand,” I admit. “Why are you so upset, Juliet? Why are you overreacting? I went to a bar, drank a little, and kissed a girl.”

The large cut on the right side of my forehead had begun to bleed again; my own blood threatening to choke me. “Calm down its ok. You're going through a rough phase that's all. Try to get some rest,” was all the comfort dad could manage before choking up into tears. He turned away as streaks of auburn curls lightly brushed against me, the owner tending to my wound. Rest, he says; not so easy when every time your eyes droop, the dreams begin. They have been getting worse, the closer I become in finding a way to bring her

Claire’s was the first face I saw. Covered in tears, she clutched her mouth with her trembling hand. Next I directed my gaze towards my father, his arms firmly wrapped around my distraught mother. He held her as if he was afraid he would lose her next. The panic on their faces sent my head even further into a spiral. My vision blurred as I fell down a rabbit hole of fear and emotion. Disoriented, I stumbled over my

“Fine,” she looked up as a man with a scar running down his cheek smiled sinisterly. She didn’t trust him, she moved to try to get out of his reach but he pulled his arm out. Her eyes widened in horror as his fist came forward, she had stopped crying, watching the fist as if it was coming at her slowly. When it hit her face she barely registered it, it didn’t hurt, only stung and sent a shock through her body. Another fist came, then another. Her vision was going blurry, she heard them say something but she couldn’t make out what it was as her body fell limp against the seat and her eyes shut, unable to handle the pain in her

“ MARIAM! YOUR ROOM! NOW! Baba yells. This time, I listen. I drop down on my bed. I know I am crying, but I am to numb to feel the tears

World’s held their breath as one single tear rolled down the cheek of a broken queen. Not a sound was uttered as the breath was released and Penelope wiped her cheeks clean of any sign that she had been mourning as she slid out from between the blankets. She crept through her house, though it could have been a stranger’s without her lord to make it a home. As she stepped onto the soft grass a warm wind whispered in her ears.

In Waiting by Ha Jin, Jin displays the effects of the controlling Chinese government on a group of people. Lin Kong, a doctor in the Chinese army, is married to Shuyu but wants to divorce her so that he can marry a nurse in the army, Manna Wu. Though Lin wants to divorce Shuyu as quick as possible, he cannot due to the government. The government continuously rejects Lin’s proposal for divorce, and so he makes his wife go through the divorce process every year. Lin constantly thinks things over and the consequences that might follow, and in the end he causes for the people around him to experience pain and remorse.

It was terrible, horrid, a painful dispute between a victim and the victims will to live. It's dreary wallow built up like steam building and building until it bursts, crashing, confessing it's terrible emotions to the moon. It saddened him deeply, sinking into him with all the heartache of loss.

My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.