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 aureate light flickered above them. It was the only source of illumination which emanated from their Queenslander home. Only the sounds of clanking of silverware echoed through the tense silence. Clarissa bored her eyes into the chunk of lamb in front of her, her peas protruding from her mash potato mountain. Her father cleared his throat, everyone’s alarmed jolts triggered a racketing of metals.
“Jacob, my little genius, how are your exams?” He turned his eyes from his vigorous severing of lamb to her brother.
Jacob opened his mouth only to be interrupted by their mother’s ringtone. Brinng brinng. Her mother lunged for her phone and wandered off into the kitchen with her demands retreating with her. Clarissa's phone buzzed and the whole table vibrated along. The slight clatter accompanied her mother’s clamours of frustration.
Everyone stole a glance, it read: "Library! Did you forget our study session?!"
Clarissa smiled at her father, who returned with only a nod and she grabbed her pre-packed bag which had already been slouching on the leg of the dining table. Saying goodbye to her family, she wandered out into the humid Brisbane night.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. Her footsteps were heightened as she strode on the dead leaves of the paperbark trees lying on the pavement. This was her routine, every Tuesday. She pondered about how lucky she was to make friends so quickly from her arrival at her new school. Passing another streetlight dimming the pavement, a thought urged through her optimism.
“We move for mum, dad and Jacob,” she furrowed her eyebrows; the thought screamed in her mind. “But they’ve never even acknowledged my needs and successes!”
Enraged voices erupted inside her, firing out in every direction.
“They don’t care.”
“You’re nothing to them, you will never-.”
The howls came to an abrupt end as she caught a shadowy figure suddenly appearing from the corner of her eye. Sweat poured down her forehead, passing her brow, passing her nervous darting eyes. She had already passed the Night Owl and the Coles convenience store awhile back, the only safe-haven for her now was the library. Crunch, crunch, crunch. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her trembling hand and tightened her grasp on her bag. Her vision was blurring whilst the pounding at the back of her head engulfed the sounds of the night. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. The humid gust rippled through her tangled golden locks as she sprinted with panic eating her thoughts.
With her breath failing to catch up with her, she examined every shadow, every corner for the figure with stunned owl eyes as she slowed down to a jog. The humid air hugged every inch of her body and sweat boiled on her burning skin. The library hailed her with its glow of light and promise of safety. She stared at the building and bit her lip.
Continuing down the shadow of the library, its radiance faded from her sight. Flakes of desiccant paint wafted off like dandruff as she glided her shaking fingers across the walls. As she continued down the damp narrow path, an explosion of vivid graffiti welcomed her. Slurred mA sea of familiar faces turned around to her loud puffing.
“What took you so long?” a girl asked her annoyedly, handing her a packet of white powder. “I tried out this coke from that new dealer, it’s so bomb!”
Clarissa shuffled her hand around her bag, pulling out her leathery wallet. She stared down at the notes inside her wallet with her parents’ generosity stuffing it plump. Shaking away the thought, she handed over the money.
“I’ll be the judge of that, Tricia,” she smiled.
Poof. A puff of white fogged in front her and she inhaled its acetonic aroma with content. She swept her hand to carefully arrange the messy dispersion all into a neat line; some clung to her sweating shaking hand. Stumbling with her wallet, she chose the cleanest note, and rolled it into a cigarette-like form. She aligned it with the neat white line and with a swift slide, snorted it all up. The powder clashed into the back of her throat, numbing her nasal passages. She could feel her heartbeat spike as the drugs coursed its way through her veins. Just before she could close her eyes and sink back…
“Clarissa!” a voice roared.
She jumped in fright, blurred faces with bushy eyebrows and glowing blue eyes appeared in her moment of vision. The strident pumping of blood drummed in her ear, intensifying before being suffocated with deathly silence.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Clarissa hastily shut her eyes at the blinding light.
“Where am I?” she murmured.
She stretched out her arms to shield her eyes but was only to be hampered by the network of cords. She squinted at her surroundings with desperate use of her long eyelashes to curtain her from the beams.
“Why am I at a hospital?!” she stammered frantically. Waves of her memory from last night pummelled into her like a tsunami. The door creaked open and introduced a flow of hushed voices which accompanied the steady tempo of the heart monitor. One by one, her family surrounded the hospital bed, their striking blue eyes were encircled with shades of red – bloodshot and teary.
“Clarissa, how could you do this to us?” her mum exasperatedly sobbed. Her curly hair bobbed to the rhythm of her sobbing breaths. Her red cheeks blazed against her pale skin. Clarissa fixated on her fidgeting hand.
“Thank God you’re okay,” her mother’s croaky voice snivelled. Before Clarissa could register what was going on, she was embraced by her whole family. It had felt like time had stopped. She blinked in surprise, tears welling up in her eyes.
Brinng brinng. Her mother cussed under her breath.
Clarissa’s heart sank.
The following ring was sliced to a halt, silence filled the room whilst she teemed with joy.
“Don’t you think you’re getting away with this, Clarissa,” her father furrowed his caterpillar-like eyebrows. “You can say bye to all your pocket money and freedom, this better not happen again. Do you understand?”
She peered up at her family, shielding her from the cold, chemical infested surrounding with their warmth and love. The fire in their eyes were fuelled by care.
With a smile, she uttered, “I understand.”