Nen's mind was elsewhere. Her book bounced around in her backpack, unfinished and calling out to be read. Her thoughts traveled along the events which had happened in the book, and others that she had read before. And a few that she thought of where her own creation. After reading a couple of good books, she would sit down and write her own. Her stories were mainly her daydreams written down in some form of organization, but they gave her something creative to do.
The innocent laughing of children broke Nen out of her reverie. Nen slowly took her eyes away from the sidewalk below and looked across the street. Children ran in the grass, gleefully chacing each other about. Nen smiled as she watched the children play. She enjoyed young children. They seemed much more innocent and honest, unlike most of the people she knew of her age. One who knew her waved as she walked by. Nen raised her hand and gave a small wave before turning the corner and losing the sight of the children.
She had written a poem once about children, one that reminded her of sadness everytime she remembered it. She recited it to herself once more,
In the days of old
the young would run and sing
through sunny meadows or dank forests.
The rosey color of health
would bloom upon their cheeks.
And their happiness would be heard
through all corners of the world.
The days we now hold close
the young would walk and hum
upon the dead, black and empty ground.
The pale of lost health
uncolors their dark faces.
And only their sadness can be heard
echoing along their prison walls.
Trees lined the street on both sides of the new street, giving a sense of a green tunnel. The air picked up, sending a cold whaft of air into Nen. She pulled her jacket closer and pushed her hair behind her ears. She walked a little quicker down the street, nearing her destination.
She stopped in front of her home, quiet and seemingly asleep. A single light in the first story was on, the other windows filled in darkness. She sighed and descended the few stairs that led to the front door. Flowers bloomed on both sides of her, thriving in the sunlight streaming from above.
The door creaked as she pushed open the door. As she walked inside she was greeted by her mother and sister who sat upon the sofa watching the television. Her mom watched as she crossed the room towards the stairway.
"So, how was school today?" Her mom asked disinterestedly.
"Fine," Nen replied before hurrying up the stairs before her mother could say anything more. She disliked talking to people for very long, especially her mother. She thought idle talk was useless, serving no real point.
Her room was in complete darkness as she entered her room. She dropped her backpack upon the floor and knocked off her shoes before stumbling to find the light switch. Eventually she found her small bedside lamp and flicked it on. Light quickly illuminated her whitewashed walls and all that stood within. Nen crawled onto her bed and lay staring up at the high ceiling.
Her usually clean room was messy at the point, books scattered across the floor and papers scattered on any flat surfaces. Nen reached beneath her and pulled out the pen that had been stabbing her and threw it on the floor. There were a few bookcases in the room, but she was always taking books off her shelf so the purpose of the shelves had been lost. Pictures of mythical creatures and pictures of nature, some of them her own, were plastered on the wall, giving some color to her room. Her curtains were shut, not permitting the outside world view into her own world.
Nen's eyes closed and with that came the advent of sleep.
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Pic (C) by me, Des H