He took my hand and led me to the tree where I spent most of my childhood. He motioned for me to get onto a swing and he stood behind me, slowly pushing me.
I felt myself slipping back into my old memories. Both good and bad, all spent at this tree. I remember my father teaching me to shoot at a target, we shot at an apple. I remember us playing hide and seek with Bertha before her dad banned us from playing. I remember Oliver sitting on the other swing and we were playing with acrobatics, swinging from one swing to another. I remember being pushed off a branch by Bertha and her troops. I remember my first time finding silence in myself. I remember my mother singing her songs to me and my brother, we were so young so innocent. I remember all of these. Thought I wanted to forget my past and go on with the future, but there is something blocking me. There is something telling me to go back, to look back at what I've done. There is a force pushing me back, pushing me. It was like telling me to stop and look around.
I feel myself slipping from conscious and slowly falling into the depts of hell.
YOU ARE READING
Falling
Short StoryThis book is the life of a young girl, striving to find herself. But also finds herself falling deeper into the depts of society which swallows her whole.
