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Postcard
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Postcard |
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UniqueFreak Member
since 2004-01-09
Posts 62Scotland 
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hey people....heres a task i had to do for my creative writing exam (1st yr student at uni) let me know what u think! I’ll always remember that day. It was an hour to go until ‘the big event’. That’s what the guards called it anyway, like it was something I should look forward to. That’s when it all happened. I woke up and a strange postcard was lying on my bed. It was anonymous, and old looking, but it reminded me of life outside. As I studied the postcard thoroughly, the photo seemed to depict all that life was for me in cell 711, and all that it wasn’t. There were trees, and grass; sheep grazing in the distance, free to wander wherever they pleased. The skies seemed to go on forever. No doubt birds roamed the heavens, exploring the world from above, but even they couldn’t see into my world. Sat in my 4’x 4’ cell all I could see was the same four walls I had been staring at for the past 30 years of my life. I felt like an unwanted gift; I was trapped in a box, waiting for someone to tear it open. My imagination was the only freedom I had left, the only thing they could not take away from me. But even that had been tarnished. There was no colour in the photo, just black and white - like the stripes on my uniform, although by that time, the black had worn to a greyish colour. Looking at the old church, it reminded me of earlier years. Before I was imprisoned, I had been a regular church goer, and my Faith in Christ was something I was proud of. Never one to doubt the Lord, I stayed strong in the first few years of imprisonment that He would see that justice prevailed. But it never did. Like the run down temple in the picture, all which remained in my heart was damaged traces of a past faith. Every breathe I took gave way to deeper sighs. Surrounding the church was a large graveyard, the headstones enclosed by a grey brick wall. Looking up from the postcard, I saw that my grey cement walls were beginning to crack and crumble. Inside, a soul had slowly died and a spirit perished. There was a sense of irony in the whole situation. I was merely a gravestone: a monument of a soul that once was. I couldn’t help but feel, that in my final hour, someone was trying to make me see that there was no point in going on and that infact, my punishment which was due to commence that day, would be a blessing. Even if my soul and spirit had died, I wanted them to be free. Not restrained in these four walls like my mind and body had been. I wanted to grow again, stand bare-footed in the grass. Looking at the tall trees, deprived of a humans reasoning or feelings, I’d still have given anything to be just like those trees. Instead, my bare feet throbbed on the cold, wet cement: territory to the sometimes defensive roaches and rats. The edges of the postcard were curled and torn. It was worn and discoloured. A sense of bitterness overcame me as I thought of all I had done for the Lord, and what he had given me in return. Like the deformed card, my character was gnarled and tattered. Everything I was, and yet everything I longed to be was embodied in this seemingly banal postcard. I wondered if it was a reminder of what I could never have, or a promise of what was to come. As I gazed helplessly at the postcard that had seemed to seal my fate, one of the guards opened my cell door. I took one last look at the card, held it tight to my chest and walked the last mile. As my shackles dragged and clattered across the concrete floor, I prayed to the Lord to forgive me for doubting him. I sat in the chair, closed my eyes, and I hoped that the next time I opened them, I’d be free. The life I had in that place was merely an existence. No people, no windows, no life, no wonder. I had been in there so long that I’d forgotten what it was like out in the other world. Even when I closed my eyes and thought hard of times 30 years ago, I couldn’t picture anything – not the streets, cars, or my family. But now I don’t have to imagine, because I can see all for myself. Now, I am free. I soar with those birds I envied not so long ago. My Faith and freedom is restored, and I thank God for his postcard from Heaven. Stephi |
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| © Copyright 2004 Stephanie Hill - All Rights Reserved | |||
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a123 Member
since 2004-03-27
Posts 72 |
wow! you have a great style.i really really enjoyed this. a123 |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I'm looking forward to see what the professor says about this. Great imagination, some wonderful imagery. Well done! |
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UniqueFreak Member
since 2004-01-09
Posts 62Scotland |
cool! thanks for replies...Who's the professor? im worried! haha! Stephi |
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LucidityNow Member
since 2001-02-06
Posts 118Canada |
I liked this too, I might have ended it with a little less closure then you did, but I liked it none the less. I think he was talking about your creative writing prof. and i'm certain that if i drive into those trees, it would make less of a mess, than she's made of me... |
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UniqueFreak Member
since 2004-01-09
Posts 62Scotland |
well that would make sense! haha! thank ya for reply.. Stephi |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
Excellent work. I could here the accent while I was reading, a third person I guess. Wonderful story. Really enjoyed. JL  She said: ”You look cute in the dark.” |
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