Write a short story in which you represent a cultural group or individual members of that group in a particular way. You may choose to present a traditional view of that group or you may challenge the traditional view. Some possible groups include: teenagers, parents, families, Australians, migrants, soldiers, surfers, bikers, females, males, schoolies, friends, lovers, athletes, sports stars, musicians, and so on.
The collision of the violent rain drops onto the metallic roof was all that echoed through my ear drums. My pale skin itched and my lips cracked. The nonchalant scratching of my skin and licking of my lips were ineffective as they got itchier and drier. With hairs falling out of place, I slicked my thick black hair back to get it off my wide forehead. It proved ineffective as the multiple strands dropped back and covered my forehead. They kept returning like the memory of her sweet smell.
The usual beatings of the car horns and the screams of the frustrated Vietnamese people was absent in the noisy Melbourne suburb, Footscray. The atmosphere outside was identical in my gloomy office. It was missing her infectious presence that could light up the darkest of rooms. Without her alluring presence, life was a chaotic tornado of depression and anxiety that had absorbed my fragile soul and prohibited its escape to freedom, security and happiness. I felt like an old toy that she had discarded when she got that new toy.
My heart crumbled into a million of desolate pieces as the missing piece to my complicated jigsaw puzzle was missing. I picked up the wrinkled Footscray newspaper and I saw a picture of her, my ex-girlfriend, Becky, holding hands and working with another lawyer. The headline of the article stated, “Becky Thompson working with her boyfriend at new law firm.” A single tear drooped down my pale and chiselled cheek.
I was engulfed by a barrage of rage like a wildfire consuming the last remaining tree in the forest. My mind was polluted with finding the shining light at the end of a dark tunnel that has been eluding me. My heart pounded like a raging drum, my veins dilated and eyes inflamed. I needed the shining light that would temporarily complete my jigsaw puzzle.
I reached for the small wooden draw beside me to claim the happiness that has evaded me.
Loud knocks on the translucent glassed door emerged and invaded my ear drums. Knock, knock. I quickly retracted my hand from the draw.
“Come in,” I said.
My boss entered the room with two letters. He glared at me and dropped the letters off onto my mahogany desk.
“You alright, Winston?” He asked.
“Yes, everything is fine,” I replied.
It felt as though the contents of the letter would bust the thin layers of my fragile soul and exacerbate my crippling depression. I withered my head and stared at my unpolished black leather shoes with my bosses’ daunting footsteps that reverberated itself around my lifeless office. Just before leaving; he gave me a stare of disappointment which blistered and punctured the remains of my fragile soul.
The letter called me to open it. It reminded me of a sly spider; weaving its web and waiting for its prey to be caught in its snare. I carefully tore the envelope and opened the letter. The bird chirps that could be heard because of the outside's silence, the ticking analogue clock and the puncturing raindrops onto the metallic roof dimmed down. My heart raced like a ticking time bomb as I gazed my eyes on the first letter. There were only numbers on the paper; it was the pay cheque that would sustain me for the rest of the month. A slight sigh of relief had manifested itself.
As I relaxed, the second letter which I had neglected, called my name.
“Winston,” it called.
Once again, the atmosphere around me dimmed down, but my heart once again echoed itself around the different areas of my body. As I tore the envelope open;,I exhaled. This time the letter consisted of numbers. But, the numbers were bold and highlighted in blood red. The grip strength in my hand disappeared and the letter dropped onto the tiled floor.
My fragile soul knotted and shattered into two. It was like a lone fragile pillar holding over its limit. The tears exploded like water from a dam, spilling down my pale and chiselled cheeks. The muscles in my chin quivered like a cold child in the snow. I heard my own sounds, my heavy breaths, my heartbeat and sniffles. I felt like a puppy that had been abandoned by its mother. Lost. I peered towards the draw that contained her; the remedy that would soothe me. She relieved me of the pain. She was the catalyst and the glue that reshaped my fragile soul that had been shattered into millions of pieces. She filled the void. She was the missing piece to my complexed jigsaw puzzle.
With tears ushering down my face, I reached and opened the draw. She was gone. It was a reflection of my soul. Gone and empty.
The desire of a completed puzzle drove me to the ATM. As I arrived at the ATM, I simultaneously rang the man who would hand her over to me and withdrew my money. After, I ran as though I was possessed by a demon that would not stop until it had achieved its goal. I had to find my saviour from this tornado that would refuse to let me escape. When I arrived, I smiled. My pain was going to end. We exchanged the goods and both parties were fully satisfied. I held her tightly; similar to how a child would hold their parents’ hand when they are anxious. I ran back to the lifeless hole.
When I arrived, I planted myself down and I was still holding her. My breaths were long and deep. She was going to reshape my soul and fill the missing gaps of the puzzle. I ripped the bag open like a child excitingly unwrapping their presents on Christmas morning but as i did, I felt a warm and moist sensation making its way down my pale cheek. I shoved her into the crystal pipe. She was beautiful in that crystal coating, like a bride in her precious wedding dress. Then I applied a fiery flame. I put moist dry lips onto her and inhaled. She was beautiful. My puzzle was complete.