Doncaster [Louis Tomlinson]

6: Warned

So sorry this chapter's kind of late. School has started again and I might not ba able to write much

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The gloomy fog spreading across my window pane made it impossible to view the extravagant hills; the only things that gave me the will to push myself off my mattress and get up and moving. Every day since I moved here, I would open up my floral curtains and be greeted by the lush grass, but for today that task was undoable. There was no point if the hills weren’t visible.

                I sighed and stretched out my arms as I sat up in my cosy bed. It was the morning after the party at Oliver’s, and I was feeling cleansed and refreshed. After I left the party I navigated my way home, which was proved to be a difficult task as I got lost. Twice. The first time I ended up outside a dodgy looking row of houses on the other side of town. The second time wasn’t much of an improvement. Instead of heading towards the town centre, I was slowly drifting away from it, and I finished outside Doncaster Airport.

                I had spotted a nearby petrol station and decided to ask someone in there for directions. This got me back on track and I was soon greeted by the sound of a warm crackling fire and the scent of takeaway fish and chips wafting through the lounge room of my own home.

                The air surrounding me was far too cold to step into wearing only a pair of pyjamas, so I wrapped a small blanket around my body before descending my bed. I treaded down the stairs, glanced at the wall clock and realised that my mum had already left for work. She always left early, leaving me with barely or no time to tell her ‘Good morning, how did you sleep?’.

                She had left a box of cereal and a carton of milk out on the kitchen counter, ready for me to use. I opened a drawer, grabbed a small bowl and a spoon, and began assembling my simple breakfast. I carefully carried my bowl, filled to the brim with crisp amber flakes swimming in cream liquid, into the dining room and placed it firmly on the table. I made a second trip to retrieve my spoon.

                As I crunched on my cereal, I observed through my lace curtains as regular commuters passed outside my window; a woman in a suit, clutching a mobile phone to her ear, a man walking at an unnecessary fast pace, and a postman’s van printed boldly with ‘Royal Mail’ on its side. I imagined my mother, somewhere in the business district of town, sitting down at her desk in her pristine new office.

                While my eyes remained glued to the window, I absent-mindedly dug my spoon into my bowl, expecting for it to be filled with breakfast. Instead, a clinking noise filled my ears, and I realised that I had already demolished all my bowl had to offer. I sighed, picked up my dirty dishes and placed them in the sink, went back upstairs and into my room. I yanked out one of my three drawers and there, quite intimidatingly, sat my immaculate school uniform; a plain but stainless white shirt, a checkered skirt, folded with flawless pleats, a sleek tie, a pair of stockings and an itchy black V-neck jumper.

                I stripped out of my comfy pyjamas and into my uniform, immediately feeling more restricted. I noticed my sketchbook lying on the floor just as I pulled up my tie. I flicked through a few pages and landed on my most recent drawing. I had completed the sketch of my view the night before, when I found myself unable to sleep. My eyes scanned over the sheet and I evaluated my work. It was time to start a new sketch. I decided my next piece of work would be the same view I had the night before of the unorganised game of soccer. But instead of sketching the sports game, I would focus on the bright full moon watching over it. I didn’t have much time to properly get the drawing started (school started in half an hour) but I was able to draw a small outline.