Dreamcatcher - A novel written by Nora (6th Class)

Sorrow

The same nurturing sun shines down on me, stroking my skin
caringly. The same friendly leaves sway rhythmically near my head. The
same fuzzy clouds walk across the sky. The same happiness washes over
me. The wind blows my hair and refreshes my very soul. As to embrace it, I
throw my arms out, close my eyes and look up. Peace, Beauty. Then,
without any control over myself, I spread out my arms, and jump. I jump
off the cliff I have been standing on. The perfect cliff, laid with lush green
grass, vibrant leaves on trees and sunshine, amazing sunshine.
And I soar. I have never felt such a feeling that I was experiencing now.
Wind rushed below me. I felt it on my face, dashing below my hands, and
lifting me high, high up into the sky. As I looked down on the Earth, I could
see a sea of green and blue. Huge waves splashed against my face as I
lowered myself. I leaned towards it. Letting my hand dip in and feeling the
temperature of the beautiful water mirroring my image. It was warm. I was
dressed in a leather dress. It felt warm and thick against my skin. At the
same time, it was light and fluttered slightly in the breeze. I stretched my
hands out even further, and the wind lifted me up. Every muscle in my body
relaxed. I flew up, up to the small, fluffy clouds. Then, with a sudden
uncontrollable movement... I touched them.
I awoke to the sound of quiet, muffled voices coming from
downstairs. Not giving them any importance, I hugged my duvet and tried
to go back to sleep. I let my eyelids fall and settle comfortably on my eyes.
First, there is silence and then, the voices again. My eyes darted open with
shock as I came to realise that the voices weren’t my mother’s! They were
masculine voices, one deep and demanding and the other one was thin and
higher pitched. The sound seemed to be coming from directly under my
room, the kitchen. I got out of bed, making an effort not to make any noise,
and put my head on the floor. I listened. “Come on!” said the man with the
deep voice. “We will miss the lunch party.” My heart was beating slowly.
Where was mother? The voices got closer but I didn't move. I wasn't
scared. Instead I felt sad, simply sad, plain sad. There is no other way to
explain it; Sorrow. She is dead, I just knew it. She isn't out shopping, she
isn't out searching to be employed. She is dead. This strange feeling
embraced me. I was sure my mother was dead, dead.
The word repeated in my head. She was gone and she would never return.

I was certain.
The door opened with a loud creek and the two men stepped in.
There I was lying on the floor, looking at two grim faced men in uniforms.
I didn’t demand what they were doing or what was happening. I knew
already. Knew, what a strong heavy word used so lightly. My father’s
words whispered wisely in my head. “Knowing is powerful. It can be a
bliss but also a curse, depending on how you use it.” I sat up. “Morning”
the officer with the higher pitched voice said, pulling a fake smile across
his face. I could tell it wasn’t real, I knew it wasn’t real. I also knew it
wasn't his first time using it either. “I am afraid we have some rather
shocking news for you” the second officer said, his face not even moving a
muscle to smile. I stood up, “She is dead.” I said, barely able find my
voice. “She is dead.” I repeated again with more confidence in my voice
although it was still wobbly. “H-h-how on Earth did you know that?” said
the officer wiping the smile off his face. “Nobody saw the scene of the
crime, and nobody knows what has happened. Her body...” his voice
trailed off as the other officer elbowed him in the stomach. I reached deep
into my thoughts and somehow knew.
“Was found lying in the ocean at twelve o'clock this night... It was
untouched.” I finished his sentence. My vision was clouded by tears, but I
didn't cry, I won't cry. The jaws of both officers dropped as they lifted their
gaze to meet my eyes. The police whispered to each other. I didn't hear
what, except for the last part. “She could have committed the crime. She
knows everything about it.”
“That isn't true!!!” I shouted, anger swelling up inside me. “How
could you say that? I loved my mother dearly!” I had just admitted it to
myself truly. I felt, ever since father passed that she was just ruining my
life, but no, she was keeping it going. I collapsed to the ground, tears
plummeting fiercely down my cheeks. I closed my eyes as the last part of
the strange all knowing feeling faded. But no dream came to save me from
the life that I now let myself admit, was terrible. I wasn't sleeping...
I opened my eyes, only to find that I wasn't at home. I was lying in a
warm bed in a cosy room and could hear voices talking downstairs. The
walls were painted a beautiful sky blue, matching the stripy indigo, violet
and blue duvet and pillow I was apparently resting on. The mattress was
soft and comfortable, unlike the one I slept on at home; I mean the place

we moved to once father passed. That place was never home. I looked up,
a warm welcoming golden light issued from the purple shade in the
ceiling. Then I looked to my left. There was a white book shelf in the
corner opposite to where I lay. It was filled with ever so many wonderful
looking books. Oh, how I love to read, but we hadn't had the money for
anything unessential. My mother would list the books in not the non-
essential category, while with my father around; our home was always
filled with books. That was our real home. The one where we made ever
so many unforgettable memories and the one in which we never had a
stressful atmosphere. There was a purple bean bag laid beside the book
shelf, and a small reading lamp that was attached to the corner. On the side
of the book shelf was a blue sign. I could make out the words “There is no
place like a good book” printed on it. Funny, I thought to myself. That is
what my father always said. My head moved once again, as I flattened my
duvet and looked to the part of the room in front of me. On the wall to my
right at the further end of the room was a door painted brown. Beside it, on
the wall parallel to the one the head of my bead was touching, was a white
desk and a purple chair. On the desk, there was something that looked like
a scrapbook, a bunch of colouring pencils in a blue container and a shiny
purple laptop. Pushed right beside the desk, was a white closet with what
looked like carefully hand painted swirls on it. With some effort in moving
under the heavy duvet, I turned to my side and looked at the ground. There
was lilac carpet laid across the floor of the room. The room over all,
compared to my old one, was a haven.
With a heave, I pushed the duvet to the side and got up. The carped
felt warm against my feet. Feeling a bit dizzy, I slowly walked across the
room towards the desk and opened one of the drawers. It had a tonne of art
supplies that took my breath away and was completely memorized. I
opened another, this one full of office supplies such as notebooks, pens and
rulers neatly arranged. Without hesitation, I hurried over to the book shelf.
I ran my finger along the books and read their tittles to myself. I had
always wanted to read half of these! Amazed, I hurried over to the closet
and opened it. It gave no creek and opened slowly. The closet was full of
bedazzling outfits and dresses. On the inside of one of the doors was a fold
up table and a box fixed to the closet. I looked in. There where hair
accessories and brushes inside. There was another box exactly the same
beside it. As I opened it, I saw jewellery, silver and gold, some with jewels
while some were plain. I was sure I hadn't seen so much nice thing

since...since... my happiness faded away. It had today been a year since my
father had passed and on that day my mother had died. I turned, tears again
filling my eyes from the thought and looked into a mirror which was on
the other door of the closet. Tears stopped rolling down my face, the voices
were coming closer but I paid no attention, for what I saw in the mirror, or
rather what I didn't see...was my reflection.