30 Day Writing Prompts

4

4. Language

The sun beats down on the ground. It's warm today. Everyone around me can feel it. Warm bodies, the faint stench of sweat lingering in the air. It's strange seeing so many people; something I'm not used to. It's like when I was younger and my mum would take me into London with my siblings. It wasn't much, but it was so amazing at the time because I had never seen so many people in one place. That's the issue with the small towns in the middle of nowhere. You see the same people every single day and there's never any change. Everything just stays the same. And when I leave that enclosed space with enclosed people it's like a new world.

Carefully, looking left and right like I was taught as a child, I cross the road. I must look like a lost puppy. A few people who pass by me look at me funny, as if I'm an alien. But I'm not, I just don't belong here. I don't really belong anywhere. I wish I did, I wish I had somewhere to belong. Do you ever really belong in a tiny town like mine? Everyone's too close. There's no mysteries, like, ever. No one moves there from big cities like London and Tokyo. There's never any new people to meet or new places to go. You know everywhere from the best route you'd take to get to the lake right down to the ever-growing potholes to drive around on the road to the cinema because you know no one will ever fill them in.

Beads of sweat roll down my forehead. I've never experienced this kind of heat before. Not where I'm from. The weather seems almost nonexistent there. It rains sometimes, it's sunny sometimes, it's even snowed once or twice. Nothing interesting though. On the rare occasion, we've had a storm. But there's never been heavy rain or heatwaves, never any snow that's laid thicker than an inch or two. It's so regular. A regular little town in South-West England with regular people in regular houses who do the same regular thing every day! There's never been anyone who's done something great for the world. Nothing super interesting like an artist or an Olympian. There's no one there who's even left England! Well, I have. But no one knows. No one even knows I'm gone. Mum's probably up looking for me already. I don't know what time it is there. I barely even know where I am. Is she worried? It's common for teenagers in small towns like mine to rebel. Not badly, mind you. But there's been some drugs passed around at parties and too much alcohol has been consumed some nights and has caused some mild accidents. But it's never bad. She probably just thinks I've snuck out, roaming around the lake with my friends. If she even is looking, anyway.

I just wanted to travel. I didn't care where I was going and for how long. It took months for me to save up all that money, too much overtime to be legal, but nobody cared I suppose. I even nicked some cash out of my mums purse and from dad's wallet. They didn't notice, and I swear it wasn't a lot. I'm still a bad person, but I was getting restless. I want to go somewhere and have real fun. Parties on the lake at midnight are great and all, but it's not really fun anymore. An adult is always lurking, making sure the police are on speed-dial just in case they think it's getting a little too rowdy.

There's not much money left. After the flight tickets, and the hotel for four nights, there wasn't too much left. Enough for food and a few other things if I'm lucky.

It doesn't matter if I can't afford anything physical to remember this trip. I'll always remember it in my mind. The huge difference between here and home. It's fascinating.

I hate home, it's barely even a home. Just a house. Just a place where I live but really don't want to. I don't really know anybody, nor do they know me. They don't know me properly. No one really knows you like they pretend to. They know all the things you've done, and the things you haven't done. They even know who you've done, and who you haven't done.

I chose here because no one speaks the same language I do. That's the best part about travelling to a foreign country. No one knows you here. I can be anybody I want to be and no one will know any different. They don't know who I love, what I love, who I've lied to and all the wrongs I've committed in my life. It's like dying and then being reborn into someone new. I can't stay here forever, but I'll have to make the most of these few days where I have true freedom. The first time in my entire life.

"Freedom," I mutter to myself, the word flows strangely and sound weird coming from my mouth. A tall man in an expensive-looking black suit looks at me strangely, as if I'm crazy. He hurries away quickly, wiping his brow which drips of sweat. It must be hot in that suit.

All these people who speak a foreign tongue.. it doesn't matter. It has never mattered to them. It's different here than it is back home. They may speak a different language than the one I do, but they're more open to the idea of uncommon opinions and the feelings that go with. Though, they aren't so uncommon here. They aren't even uncommon back home, they're just wrong. Nobody even takes a moment to think about it or even consider the fact that it's not wrong. They just label it as a sin. Sin. It's so ridiculous. How could love be a sin? I love it here already. It's not an ignorant little town where the people have ignorant opinions. It's a big city full of different people who understand different things. Sure, there's some people who are bound to share the same views as the people in my little town who cry about boys who love boys and girls who love girls. However, the people here who know what they're talking about overpower those with the tiny South-West England opinions.

But it'll be okay now.

I can't understand the people speaking to me. I'm sweaty and it's far too hot. But I'm not there any more, and that's all that matters.

The language is different. That's what really matters.