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Sunday, October 14, 2012

Peter Part 1

I had a dream, along these lines, but it was some other girl, and I thought it would make a good story.
I rested my head on the cold Flexi-glass and stared at the world below. I could walk on the clouds, and jump into the sea from here. 12 hours on a plane can be exhausting. Finally, after restless tossing and turning, I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamt of falling, which to me, is a nightmare. When I opened my eyes, the plane was just beginning to land. The pressure dropping made my ears pop. A little boy giggled behind me. Eventually, the plane came to a stop. I looked out of the window and saw... another plane. Stupid thing. Blocking my view of Mexico. Mum passed me my hand luggage, and we wriggled sideways inbetween the sweets. When I finally stepped off the plane, I felt a sudden urge to take off my jacket, and put on sunglasses. The Western sun beat down on my face, and I flicked a strand of brown hair from my face.

When we finally got to the hotel, all I wanted was a nice glass of orange juice. I opened the fridge, and saw lots of different cans, bottles, and packets... all labelled in Mexican. I grabbed a can of something pink and bubbly, with a picture of a melon on the front and took four great gulps. The bubbled suddenly came rushing up my nose, and I choked and spluttered.
I flung my suitcase on my bed, and went out into the courtyard, where a bunch of teenagers were talking and drinking melon poison. One boy sat and wrote in a notebook. He was tall, with sandy coloured hair flicked across his forehead. He had chocolate brown eyes, and I envied his long black eyelashes. I crept aross the basketball court to say hi to him. The other kids looked kind of chavvy.
He looked up from his notebook and smiled. I smiled back and waved. I hopped up onto the wall next to him. He wasn't writing, he was sketching. Quick, smooth strokes. I took a peek at what he was drawing. It was me!
"I'm Lauren" I smiled.
"Peter" he replied, never taking his eyes off the page.
"That's really good." I tried to act like I had no clue who it was. He chuckled and thanked me. When he finished, he wote a name at the bottom of the page, in beautiful cursive handwriting. I recognised it from Spanish class at school.
 An Angel.

It took all the strength I had not to keel over with pure delight. I tucked my fringe behind my ear and grinned like an idiot. Slowly, and steadily, trying to remember to talk English, he said
"Tonight, err, would you like to, um, meet me, at the flower, uh, garden?"
I almost screamed, but instead, calmly replied
"Yeah, sure" and smiled.

Did you like it? Should I post more? xxx

1 comment:

Criticism is appreciated. Rudeness is not.

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