The Meadow

The Meadow -- by Carrie Oswald

It was a beautiful meadow, unique and different from the rest, with hills covered in grass and flowers of all sorts -- dandelions, daffodils, lilacs, poppies and even roses.

There were trees that stood tall and proud, its big green leaves rustling through the warm breeze, which whistled through the air. In the distance, there was a long river bank ahead, with cool water that was full of small fish.

In the Day, I would go swimming in the lake. The water was so clear that I could see every detail of the bank -- the small rocks sitting on the bottom, accompanied by the seeweed that would tickle my feet whenever I swam near them. The tiny fish that would quickly swim away when I came too close to them. And after I grew tired and left the water, I would dry off onto the heated grass, soothing me. I would feel the sun's rays engulfing me into its warmth, as if it was kissing my whole body.

Afterwards, I would do many things -- pick flowers, read books, climb trees, have picnics -- sometimes, I would nap on a slope of a hill. The sun always had a way of making me sleepy.

And in the Night, I would lay down and gaze out to the stars. I could look at them for hours, and wonder -- if there is anyone else out there, in this huge universe. Are we alone, in this big, empty space? Out of the millions and millions of stars and planets, were we really the only known species that exists? I found that hard to believe.

The sounds of crickets chirping through the fields brought me a feeling of comfort. Fireflies rose and flew everywhere. Sometimes, I would try to catch them, yet had only been successful a couple of times. And when I had, it was merely for a few seconds -- for they were quite fast, making it seemingly impossible to even touch them. They were beautiful creatures.

When I would feel anxious, I would go there. When I couldn't sleep at night because my older siblings would throw parties and invite all their friends, I would go there. When my mother would come home, half drunk, and sometimes with a man that wasn't my father, I would go there. And when my father would get mad at me for not listening to him, and give me a beating, no matter how bruised up I was -- I would go there. And when my parents fought and fought, I would go there. It was my Sanctuary.

And on that cold evening of November, my father came home earlier than usual, catching my mother and the plumber making out on the couch. He was so furious he nearly killed the man, who managed to escape before he could. As for my mother, she was smacked and beat unconscious.

He saw me then, standing there in fear as I witnessed the whole thing. "Did you know about all of this?!"  he spat, and when I didn't respond, he screamed; "Did you?!"

I ran for the door, but he caught hold of me. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. At one point, I kicked him him between the legs, and scuttled into the kitchen as he rolled off. I remember how his eyes were full of such rage and fury, as he darted towards me. And as I focused on them, his eyes soften suddenly -- brows knitting upwards. And a stinging pain in my stomach.

A knife plunged into my belly. Blood pouring out and seeping through my shirt, pain searing through me. Looking into his eyes, I couldn't tell if it was full of regret or not, but I didn't have much time to think as everything faded out.

And all the pain suddenly drained away, and my body went limp for a second.

Then I awoke, back at my meadow, the sun still bright as ever, the birds singing in every tree. The pleasant breeze swishing in the air.

There was a voice that whispered to me; "You are safe, now. Rest."

And I knew that I finally had no more reasons to go back to that house; and I could stay in my true home, forever. In happiness.

My soul was finally at peace.