Coward

If you are a coward, as you say you are
Then you will break my heart into pieces, as you said you would.

Sara's Legacy

This piece of short-fiction is yet another representation of the various stepping stones, with a particular focus on young people. In this piece, there are many stepping stone transitions happening for many characters as a result of one person's decision. This shows that while we grow, our loved ones tend to grow along with us. This piece also represents the difficult choices we must make in our lives, which are tough but necessary not only for our personal development, but also to ensure that we always keep moving forward. Once again, since this story is related to my current life experiences, I thought it would be interesting to write about.

            For miles it goes, spanning the eye’s view until it dips away, following the horizon. Lush and bright and a farmer’s dream: the never-ending ocean of grass that grows on fertile soil. Cornrows here, a field of raspberry crops there, but on the Jenestine’s property it’s all grass, all green and smile-inducing. And it is on the Jenestine’s property, up the dirt path that leads away from the main market, through full-leaved trees, along that rickety fence where the wheezing, twitching truck is standing now, where Ollie grows.

            “Go tell your sister to come down!” Mama commanded through her tears. “Go get that girl down here right now!”

            Mama kept waving the big kitchen towel in the direction of the grand staircase. The oven-top was boiling with overflowing jam in a hot pot, and Kitty the dog had found his way inside the house, covered in fleas and mud, but Mama paid no attention to anything.

            “SARA!!!!” she bellowed, and then let out a hic and a sob. “YOU GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN SEE YOU ONE LAST TIME!!!”

            Ollie was busy chewing on a licorice stick that Papa had snuck into the house a couple of days ago. When Mama finally turned her red-rimmed eyes onto him and opened her mouth to let out another loud holler, he jumped off his high stool and stuffed the candy into his mouth in a hurry.

            “Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll get her.”

            Ollie was ten, but Sara was eighteen. It was the first day of August that had caused this ruckus in the Jenestine household—a nice sunny day with no clouds, except for the rain Mama was spraying everywhere she went. Up the stairs and to the end of the hallway, beside the big open window, was the un-matching wooden door to his sister’s room. Ollie paused in front of it to finish the licorice that was still in his mouth. Inside, he heard voices.

            It was all giggles and stifled hysterics coming from Sara’s room. A sudden BAM! as something was knocked over from her desk, and more laughter. Then there were heavy footsteps running across the floor that weren’t Sara’s, and more squealing. After a while, silence, except for the occasional loud whisper.

            Ollie stood still as a soldier, staring at the beige-coloured door that Sara had threw a fit over two years ago. “I’m a girl! My door can’t be dark poop-brown!” she had screamed, and Papa had catered to her whining.

            When he thought the whispers were gone, Ollie put his hand on the plastic doorknob and turned it open. He peeked inside and caught Sara hanging out the window, still laughing at the head full of brown hair that was climbing down the Jenestine’s decorative vines. Ollie waited patiently, putting his hand on his hip and letting the door swing wide open. Finally, Sara turned around.

            Her cheeks were flushed red from all the laughing she had been doing. She wiped at her forehead and then immediately noticed her brother standing in the entrance to her room with his eyebrows tightly knitted. She laughed again, much to his frustration, and then addressed him, “Hey Ollie. How you doing?”

            “Was that your boyfriend again.” He did not make it sound like a question in the slightest.

            Sara rolled her eyes and walked past Ollie, ready to go deal with Mama and her dramatic performance. “No, it was the tooth fairy, come to give me some extra spending money.”

            Ollie pounded after his sister down the grand staircase. “Papa said he can’t climb into your window anymore!”

            Sara waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not like I’ll see him again! Jeez Ollie, let me have some of my moments.”

            They were in the kitchen now and Ollie’s eyes were wide. “You’re not taking him with you?”

            But there was no time to reply, because suddenly Mama dropped the big wooden spoon and thundered across the tiny space. She made as if she was going to strangle Sara, but instead enveloped her in a tight Mama-hug. There were tears and snot and lots of hiccups. “My baby!” Mama cried. “My baby is leaving me to be with the crocodiles!”

            This was when Papa walked in on the whole scene, just in time to hear Sara reply, “They aren’t crocodiles, Mama. They’re more like celebrities!”

            Papa made a face and signaled for Ollie to give Mama and Sara some alone time. Obediently, Ollie ventured outside and found himself standing on the recently-watered lawn, and soon Kitty bounded up to him as well. “Let’s get some licorice,” Ollie decided.

           

            Down the dusty Jenestine path and to the left was the main market. This is where Ollie found David sitting at his usual booth with the cherry tomatoes. His cheek was swollen—probably the consequence for sneaking out to see Sara again—and his eyes were rimmed red just like Mama’s.

            Ollie put on his best mean-face and ventured over to him while Kitty leapt away to be with the other dogs. “You look like a girl,” he remarked.

            David looked up once and then wiped his nose on his sleeve again. “Crying ain’t only for girls, little fool,” he replied. It sounded weird, like he was getting over a cold. “Hey, little man, be there for Sara when she calls home and cries about how much she misses me, alright? My old man cut off the land-line so I wouldn’t talk to her no more, but I’m going to write letters.” He beat his fist into his palm, like he meant it.

            Ollie picked up one of the cherry tomatoes and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. He contemplated his next move, all the while being stared down by a nearly-weeping David. “Hm…okay.” Ollie popped the tomato into his mouth. It gushed, fresh and sweet. “But she’s not sad. She said she’s not taking you with her.”

            David looked absolutely stabbed. “Of course she isn’t taking me with her,” he replied rather harshly. “I’m going to school here. Like the rest of us.” He muttered the last part with a coat of bitterness.

            Ollie shrugged and stole another handful of tomatoes. Then, he waved goodbye to David, who looked to be in a worst state than when Ollie had first arrived, and sauntered over to the candy stand. Sitting behind the wide wooden booth, newspaper in hand, was Mr. Rivers. He looked up from under his thick glasses, and it took him a while to recognize the kid in front of him.

            “If it isn’t Jenestine’s little brother!” He laughed loud and long, and then threw the newspaper onto the stool beside him and leaned forward. “How’s she doin’? She’s been skipping my remedial classes this summer. Thinks she’s too good for us, does she?”

            Ollie shrugged again. “I don’t know. She’s not very smart.”

            Mr. Rivers laughed again, a different kind of laugh. “Not very smart? Hohoho, she’s smart enough to get into that big-city school! She’s smart enough to get away from here, where all them girls go to the local college and become nurses!” He picked up a sour peach candy and handed it to Ollie, still grinning. “I feel like she won’t even miss the place.” He winked.

            Ollie frowned at the sour peach but ate it anyway. That last part sounded like bogus. What could be better than living in Southsire? He had heard stories from Papa all his life, about the pollution and million trucks and robberies in the big city. There were hardly any places like Southsire left, where good citizens lived off the land and knew each other since birth. In fact, Sara had heard these stories too, all this summer and since early spring when she had revealed her plans to go to the capital city for University. Mama had had a crying fit and the neighbours had gossiped non-stop about the “unappreciative Jenestine daughter”, but she had stuck to her decision anyway, like an idiot.

            “I don’t think she’s very smart,” Ollie insisted.

            Mr. Rivers had another good laugh at this, and then selected the ten best licorice sticks and took Ollie’s dollar. Then, he bid him a good afternoon. Licorice in hand, Ollie began the trek back up to his house.

            It was still a scene at the Jenestine property, except now all of the curious neighbours had showed up to watch and question Sara. The driver in the rickety truck from the big city was getting impatient, but was too intimidated by Papa to speak up. Instead, he had the radio turned up loud to one of the local music stations, probably hoping to annoy everyone into sending him away.

            “The crocodiles!” Mama was still yelling, now relocated to the front lawn with her arm still around her daughter. Papa was busy dragging different coloured suitcases towards the truck, and Kitty, returned home, was barking and running like mad amidst the commotion. Sara’s eyes met Ollie’s, and she smiled, but he did not return it. Instead, he stuck another licorice candy into his mouth and walked nonchalantly into the house, and up the grand staircase.

            Sara’s door was propped wide open, in all of its light-beige glory, forever lowering the property value. Ollie stepped inside and was a bit shocked at how white the room was. Sara’s desk, closet, and basically entire bedroom had been cleared while he had gone to town. The only remains where the fluffy pink carpet on the floor, the matching curtains, and some paintings that were framed on the walls. “Stupid…” he muttered, and went to sit on the edge of the large bare bed, facing out the window that David had climbed.

            From Sara’s window one could see the entire long grass plantation that the Jenestine’s owned. The blades, growing together like one, stretched on and on and never seemed to end. The sun was slowly working its way down, but was half-blocked by the big oak tree that stood near the house. A few meters up swayed a washed-out ribbon that Sara had tied to a branch that used to poke into her room when she was little, before Ollie had been born. Ollie stared at it, and noticed that at the base of the knot it still had a pink tone to it. That guaranteed that it had been Sara’s doing.

            Suddenly, there was a light tap on the door. Ollie turned swiftly, as if a criminal, to see Sara with her eyes wide open standing in the doorway. Ollie frowned and turned back to look out the window. “Why aren’t you gone yet?” he asked.

            Sara’s footsteps were unheard, but she was sitting beside Ollie a few seconds later, also staring out of the white-paned window. “I’m about to go,” she replied. She then added, in a bright tone, “Maybe you’ll apply to school in the city too and we can both have families there!” She let out a long, bell-like laugh, but was rudely interrupted by a shove to the shoulder.

            “Shut up!!!” Ollie cried, all of sudden infuriated. “You’re so stupid! You think I’m going to leave Southsire and live in the Devil’s city?! I know a good thing when I see it!” He pounded the wall with his foot, letting it swing forcefully back and forth. “I won’t leave MY friends, and I won’t leave MY neighbourhood, or Kitty, or Mama or Papa, or the fence that I painted, or the fertilizer stand that has our name on it! I won’t leave the haunted saw mill or the town school where I go every day! I won’t get in a nasty truck and drive away from MY home, because I’m not a traitor like you!” He kicked the wall one last time, and it was the strongest kick, for it left a final dent.

            He sat there, seething, but Sara made no reply. It was quiet for a long moment, and then there was an unexpected sound.

            It startled Ollie, so much that he looked up after vowing to never see his sister again. He stared for a long while at her face, and for the first time in his whole life that he knew her, he discovered that Sara cried the same way that Mama did.

            Flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, with ears bright red and her nose already flowing, Sara let out a wail. “I’m not a traitooooor!” She kicked the wall, too, and her kick left a dent right away. “I love the haunted saw mill toooooo! And I was the one who painted the fence, not youuuuuuu!” She sneezed without using her elbow, and then the tears streamed down. “But I need to get away from here! This isn’t the rest of my life! Uwaaaah!”

            Ollie was speechless. His mouth was wide, almost as wide as his eyes. His sister was shaking like the old vacuum cleaner they used to have, and was running like a leaky faucet.  “Hey,” he whispered. “Sara, hey. I’m sorry.”

            Sara sniffed, hard. “I know you are.” And then she didn’t say anything more, which left Ollie feeling incomplete.

            “I really am sorry.” He made a move to touch her arm but she suddenly turned and strangled him by the neck with her arms. Perhaps it was a hug, but Ollie couldn’t breathe.

            “I love you! You better remember that you bully!” She wiped her nose on his sleeve and then straightened herself out. As if on cue, the rickety city truck honked four long times from the front yard. Sara rose, gave Ollie a smile, and then hurried out of the room as if nothing had taken place. Ollie continued to sit, nothing but baffled, until fifteen minutes later Papa walked into the room.

            “Hey buddy,” he called, striding over. “You come to feel sorry for yourself too?” He took a seat next to his son on the bed and let out a long sigh. “Well, she’s gone. Can’t believe we let her go. You know, let me tell you the story of the ribbon up in the—what in the heck is this on the wall?!” Papa suddenly leapt up, all jumpy and pointing both index fingers at the twin dents. “Who in the heck did this?!”

            Ollie leapt up now, too. His sister was far enough away to avoid the wrath of Papa, but he certainly wasn’t. “It was Sara!” he hollered, and shot out of the room like an arrow, down to the kitchen where Mama was still crying into the jam.

            From upstairs, Papa’s cries came. “That little—!!! Bring her back! Bring her back right now! Someone get her! That vandalizing, no-good house-destroyer ain’t going nowhere!!!” There was an incredible THUD! and Mama dropped her spoon onto the floor again.

            “Dear lord, what on Earth was that?!”

            Ollie, full of energy now, ran around her in circles. “There’re three now Mama! There’re three! You go and make one too! And then even when we’re gone, there ain’t nothing they can do to forget the Jenestine’s!” And Kitty barked along, as well, confused yet excited by the eventful evening that had seen more emotions than the house had been a host to in years. It was as if suddenly, a new bright life had been given to the century-old long grass plantation, similar to the character of a certain Sara Jenestine.

The Cracks in the Perfect Promises of Our Education System

            This piece of non-fiction showcases some of the challenges individuals encounter as they work to hop across their many stepping stones. I wrote this article about an issue that is very close to me, for I have had to deal with it for the past four years on a regular basis. I believe it shows that while we go along with our lives, the path is not always smooth-sailing, and though some of the issues we encounter seem silly, they can make the journey a lot more difficult.

           

            School boards all over North America often ring out with the same cries full of promise: “We will turn your children into capable adults!”, “We will ensure that they learn everything that there is to know in order to prepare them for their life in society!” and so forth, vowing to make the learning students undergo perfect. However, as someone who has not yet seen life outside of the public school system, I have a cloud-free horizon of experiences to pick from to showcase just how inefficient the system can be.

            While I am not here to pick apart every wrong-doing I have ever encountered at my own high-school, there were some definite bumps along the road that made me raise an eyebrow. The biggest one for myself, a senior student mere weeks away from graduation, is my complete lack of any clue as to what I want to be for the rest of my life. I took, in total, 30 classes in school along with 2 out-of-school credit-contributing classes, yet none of these pushed me in the right direction. Instead, it was as if each class I took was a rope attached to my limbs, and each pulled me towards a separate way. Consequentially, applying to universities this past January was a nightmare, as I sat at home, watched by the calendar screaming “DEADLINE THIS WEEK” and was forced to hastily make a choice that could very well determine my future. In the end I wound up applying for business, even though all my life I had loved writing, and my Career’s class in Grade 10 had instructed me to become a marriage and family therapist. It was a hectic week indeed, and one that caused high peaks of stress.

            The probable reason as to why I couldn’t make up my mind in what to study post-secondary school was because no course I took truly showed me what a job in that certain field would be like. For example, when I took English, it was a matter of reading Macbeth, writing an essay, performing a skit, and creating a power-point. I did not enjoy these tasks, although the grade I received was high, and the class certainly showed me no glimpse as to what going into the field of writing would be like. Similarly, taking the economics course right now, I have so far had to do a presentation on Karl Marx and make a poster on the themes of the movie “Wall Street”. Again, not an accurate representation of what awaits me if I do decide to pursue a career in economics. These many classes and their multiple projects only cloud and annoy students who are trying to get a sense of what they are good at and what they like. It is difficult indeed, to figure out what you like, when you hate every class because every teacher has you doing a presentation on a historical figure at the same time.

            Following this minor road-blockage along my high-school career (that I hope has not resulted in the threat of a chaotic future for me), there is the case of what many students face all over Canada: impossible departments. In some schools it is science, in others English; at mine it is the infamous mathematics department. I am currently in a class that is facing such a low average, that in order to save their chances of getting into university, the class size has dropped from a near 30 to a mere 15 or so people. On top of that, the brightest student in the class has only immigrated to Canada recently, and thinks the class is joke. Meanwhile, everyone else is drowning in the 40-60% range. I’m sure the department could easily win the award they seem to yearn for: “Toughest department in the GTA! Failing you, and you, and YOU! Hooray!” but alas it is not a joke for those currently suffering through it.

            Every student putting themselves through the torture of taking Calculus and Vectors is doing so because the university they wish to attend demands it. My program, Business Management, asks for this class as well, even though intersecting planes and the area of a triangle inscribed in a cylinder will do me no good in the world of human resources. For this reason, I would love to be given “a break”, as they say. It would be splendid if what I learned was what I was tested on, but nay, every single time I arrive in class to write a test I find myself staring at a twisted version of what I had been studying for weeks under the Knowledge and Understanding section. In fact, what I hear so often from my grade-watching parents is, “You will at least pass, right?” Yes, departments like these are a definite inefficiency in school systems, and I’m sure the thousand-plus league of failing students across the country will vouch for my point.

            There is a definite list in my mind that goes on to prove my argument of inefficient roadblocks, however I will stop here. I do understand that it is a difficult task to oversee the perfection of every nook and cranny in every high school across every board. That’s why, for the purpose of keeping this article civilized, I have narrowed my tear-inducing complaints down to a list of two. These issues, the lack of preparing students and the impossible departments, are the two factors of my school and many others that I think deserve to be looked over and made changes to, for they have made a serious dent in my learning experience. If they were fixed, I’m sure the school boards would be able to shout out their repeated promises of perfection in a more confident tone.

Night Dash

This piece of short fiction represents a special kind of "stepping stone" in life. It represents the "before"--the one that once you lose, you are likely to never get back. Sometimes, although we strive to keep moving forward, reaching the "after" takes a lot away from us. This short story shows just how special the "before" perspective of life can be.

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

            My footsteps? Hers? Theirs? It was impossible to tell. Twisted shrubbery and veiny branches curled at me as if I was emitting a magnetic pull. Everything tore at my skin; the rocks leapt to leave bloody dents below my knees as I rushed, bent forward. One hand reaching out, so as not to come to a final stop upon hitting a brick-hard trunk, and one hand back, so as not to lose the light angel that held on gingerly to my fingers.

            I dared not look back, but surely she was there. Floating, almost, with white fabric flying behind her like wings. Golden hair weaving through rushed wind like velvet. In this way, beautiful all over. And my responsibility in the nightmare of these woods.

            A good thing about these cuts and bruises was that I no longer felt the pain in my muscles from running too long. I didn’t see it yet, but when the green light appeared, we would be first. As I thought this, my fingertips before me were scratched by thorny bushes. I swiftly dug my feet into the ground and came to a progressive stop after the long run. As my right arm formed a fleshy barrier between myself and the spiked bush, I flung my left one over Angel and pulled her tightly to my hip. We both fell to our knees immediately, breathing desperately through our nostrils while the blood came to a swishy stop in our heads. My vision was spinning slightly, and I fought to focus on the scene before me as Angel turned her head and took deep breaths while clutching my shirt to her lips. “Good girl,” I whispered hoarsely.

My eyes darted now, fully focused. We were definitely not in any sort of clearing. In fact, it seemed that we had run off track a bit too deeply in my strategy to keep hidden. I suddenly had to stifle a cough and brought my arm up to my mouth. There was Angel, staring at me with wide green eyes. “…Are we found yet?” she whispered. When I still couldn’t find my voice to reply, she grabbed my shirt in a panic with her tiny fists. “Gamma? Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” I coughed out. “Just…aheh! Off track. But that’s fine. We’re leading.”

Angel continued to stare at me as if I were a God of some sort. “…Okay.” She was so tiny. Even compared to the other petites, she was smaller. She looked five, not eight, and I, I probably looked more like a teenage boy in my state than I did like a girl. I wiped at my face and came back with a palm covered in soot. If we made it, there would be a horrid sleep waiting for us.

Suddenly, a rustling sound. I leapt to my feet but stayed crouched, all the while pulling Angel behind me. She was surely scared, but didn’t let out a single gasp; an expert, now that we had been through these runs countless times. The baby trees before us were hidden in shadows and I cursed. I had let us stop in a position that could be spotted from a blind point. “If it is a chasseur, you run!” I hissed.

“But Ga—!!!”

“No!” I pushed her with more force. “If it is a chasseur then at least you will get there!”

She didn’t answer me, but I didn’t hear her move either. I narrowed my eyes at the rustling branches and began to plan.

Whoever it was, they were clumsy. I wondered if they were one of the nouvelles, but then it would be rare for them to make it this far. Aha! I suddenly noticed, from the height of the origin of rustling, that this person was huge. Perhaps, though unlikely, someone I hadn’t spotted at the début. I kept my eyes fixed on the enemy and grabbed a stone that was at my feet. I was Gamma for a reason—a reason that was gone now. No longer was I one to wait.

“AAAAAAH!!!!” I charged after pushing Angel back forcefully. She fell flat on her butt and I heard her let out a surprised squeak. I tore through the bushes like a mad person, baring my teeth and hunching my shoulders to look bigger. Twigs scratched at my cheeks and I was lucky that none got my eyes. There were heavy THUDS and once I had beaten my way through the web of trees, I spotted the white tail of a plump deer racing off deeper into the woods.

“Zut!” I spat, and then turned to run back to Angel immediately. She was already emerging from the torn hole I had made in nature, her mouth pulled in a tight line but her skinny frame shaking with her attempted bravery.

“What was it?” she whispered at me in the dark.

“A deer, nothing to worry about,” I replied quickly, hoping to calm her. “If the deer’s here that means we’re probably alone in this part of the woods. Let’s go quickly before any of the others come around.”

Angel nodded and her golden strands flew back and forth brightly against the inky blue hues of the forest. She reached forward and her pale arm was revealed as the white gown sleeve fell back. Not a single scratch on her snowy skin, so I was doing very well tonight. Taking her hand and facing forward, I took a single, deep breath before breaking into a run again.

“Les autres!”

This single cry, cracking through the air like a charged whip, sent me flying. I grabbed Angel’s hand with blood-stopping strength and yanked her forward, directly to my side. As I sprinted I pulled her roughly along with me; she was making complete steps on the ground one time out of every three, but mostly, she was like a doll flopping in the wind. A low tree branch was coming up ahead of us, and I half-ducked, half-crawled in my haste, scraping both knees against sticks and hard mud, all the while pulling Angel along with me. There were definite others behind us now, but there was no way I would let us be stopped here.

And suddenly, the green light. I saw it once as I tripped momentarily on a thick root. It whizzed across my vision, teasingly yet certainly. “There, Angel!” I rasped. We ran together now, as I was losing speed after the long race. The cries of the others rang out, stupidly close to the fence that was looming ahead.

“Gamma, jump!” Angel was crying out now too, in a horrifyingly desperate voice. “Jump!” She slipped out of my hand and leapt across the wooden planks that stood before us. After a moment, she appeared at the top again and reached down to help drag me over. I felt one of the others make a grab at my ankle, but it was a bad grip and I was able to flee. On the other side of the fence, I fell to the wet ground and got mud in my ear. But now, the green light was meters away, and it would be worthy of a tragedy to let things end here.

Hastily, I rose and followed the white flowing robes that dashed ahead of me. Every few seconds the golden color would disappear and be replaced by green eyes and a panicked face, checking to see that I was there behind her. There were shouts trailing us as more climbed the fence, but Angel and I were at the green light, too far to be caught.

I let out a whoop as we ran by the mighty pole that shone the light on us. My feet were sturdy on dry dirt ground, and victory was meters away in the form of triangular shapes. Unfortunately, soon after the green light, there was yellow, all around, emerging from corners unseen.

“Malheur!” The yellow lights cried. “Stop there!”

Angel shrieked as the others caught up to our pace. When we passed bright red fabric, I shoved her in without warning. “It’s yours!” I called out. “Sleep now! Do not budge!” And then, I kept running. The others dispersed around me, disappearing into the purples, the greys, and the browns. I, myself, ran to the end, where the orange one stood. With a long dive I was in, then crawling like mad and rustling around with blind eyes. A yellow light was coming closer; I could see it through the orange fabric. There was a ziiiip! and I flipped over so my back was to the half-open space. Eyes shut tight, the performance began.

A rustling, a trip, wild yellow light. “You!” came the hiss. “I know you were there! Look at me now!”

Stay still. Do not move. Perform ‘till la fin.

Another one now. “She was there! She’s always there! Don’t pretend to sleep, Anna! Look at me now!”

The yellow light was on me; I could feel it like it was burning the hair off my scalp.

“Tomorrow morning you will all get it! You little criminels! If you think you can do this every night we will call your parents so fast, you will not have time to blink! Zut! I know you were there!”

Deep, even breathing. Like the first night, when we actually slept.

The voices were leaving now, angry yet with no concrete proof. “They think they can come to camp and do whatever they want?!” A ziiiip! as my tent was shut tight. “They do not think what will happen to us if the park police find out our girls are running like mad every night! That Anna! She was running! I’m sure she was running too!”

In, and out. Just like that. Just like that, I let a smile creep out. Because then, I was sure. At the meeting tomorrow, Angel and I would be crowned first.