Janes Story

693 22 53
                                    

Hi everyone! This is my first entry here on Wattpad. It is not throughly edited at the moment, but it would be great if you could point out anything that needs to be editied in the comments below!  

Let me know what you think about "Janes Story"! I love any sort of feedback!!

ps. the title of the story isnt permanent! Most likely to change!

 Vote, Fan, Comment, Enjoy!!

-Natalie

_______________________________________________________

As the moon surrenders high in the late night sky, my heart begins to weep. I miss how things were, back those very few weeks ago. I miss the way I’d wake up every morning feeling like I was complete. My heart shining with an internal sun, a sun that seeped through my skin, making me feel radiant, just isn’t there anymore. Hiding behind a fog of loss and anger, my sun, the sun that was once gleaming warmly in my heart, is now pitted in the dark depths of my life, possibly never to return again. Every night as I watch the stars of the black evening form mysterious constellations in between the branches of the trees from my bedroom window, I ask myself the same questions. Why you? Why me? Why?

______________________________________________________

Chapter 1.

1.

Today couldn’t come any faster. I’d rather it be the opposite way around to be in fact. It’s Monday, June fifth, and the brightness from the early morning sun drowning my bedroom is making me want to hide and escape under my soft quilt. My mind and eyesight hasn’t fully attached itself to my brain yet, making me feel badly centred and vertigo. Opening and closing my eyes, I slowly regained my focus. I pushed the dark, random strands of my hair away from my face, and leant onto my exposed elbow. I admired the lovely time flaunting itself on my alarm clock. 6:00 am. I let out a slow, sarcastic laugh. I’m never awake this early!

The smell of coffee and burnt toast coming from down stairs made my stomach churn at the thought of what today was. I really don’t want to leave this room, leave this bed actually. I’m not the type of person who fully comprehends to what true change feels like. But these days, especially today, that’s a completely different story. As of change in the previous few weeks, I’ve discovered that like a wise character once said, “There is no place like home” is a statement that is one hundred and ten percent true. There is no place like home. Physically, I am lying in a room inside a pretty, beach side Californian house, but mentally, I am home, in Australia.   

The sweet, morning hymns of the birds outside seemed so fluent and poised.  I envied them; I wish I was a bird. What made me so jealous about the diving, black birds outside; was that their lives were in such an abundance of freedom and they didn’t have to worry about half the problems an ordinary teenager like me had to face. I wish I could fly.  Fly away to somewhere only I ever belonged. I’d fly halfway around the world. I’d fly home, never to return to this room again.

The sound of a beeping vibration came buzzing furiously off my bed side table. Seriously, who’d have the thought to text me at this hour of the morning? I swiped my hand over the cold, glass of the table and gripped the white I-phone into my hand. A smile substituted the tired grimace on my face as I read the name of the sender. It was Anna, now she’d be the one to text me at this unsightly hour.

The message said:

‘Hey Jane! Wishing you all the best for your first day at your new school!!! I want to hear all about it ASAP! Text me or call me when you can! Australia and I miss you, Anna xoxo.’

            How I’d missed my best friend over the couple of weeks I had been living here. Anna was there for me through thick and thin, and I tried my best to be the same for her. She was not only my best friend, she was my sister and she was the person I looked up to. I remembered when we were about seven years old; Anna had found an injured butterfly with a crumpled wing in the school playground. I recalled her running up to me, the butterfly cupped so gently in her little hands. When she was in speaking distance, I began asking her if the poor, little insect was going to survive, she cut me halfway through mid sentence and she said,

Janes StoryWhere stories live. Discover now