I Wish This was Just Another Cinderella Story

September 15

The railroad tracks stretched on for miles and miles and I stepped lightly from each lateral rail to the next. I heard the whistle before I looked at the oncoming train. The heaving engine, the way the air split around it, the whistle producing a billowing cloud, and the iron snake that slithered towards me. I stretched my arms out wide and stood on the parallel rail, closing my eyes. One second. Two seconds. More hissing from the snake's mouth, warning me of the danger. Three seconds. Four seconds. I felt the air collapse in around me and let myself tumble. I fell down the hill, the green grass dusted with the dirt and debris the snake left behind. I didn't stand, choosing to lie comfortably with the cool dew on the grass tickling my flushed cheeks. The wet grass soaked through my back, sending a chill from the crisp morning dew through my spine.

I don't think I'm suicidal, I just act on impulse paired with a general disregard for my wellbeing. But I don't think I want to die, not yet and not by a train. I want to die a hero or doing something cool. Something romantic, like out of a fairytale. I have always loved fairytales. The original, darker versions were great, but I really loved the ones with happy endings. I loved Cinderella. Even in a dark situation, someone will still love her and she ends up living happily. It always gave me a lot of hope that things can always be better. But I know life isn't a fairytale.

Eventually, I sat up and rustled the grass and dirt out of my hair. It was brown like dirt and fluffy with slight waves when I grew it out. I kept it short and slightly layered. It wasn't very wavy anymore, no tangles or high maintenance upkeep.

Finally, I brushed myself off and started hopping across the rails again. Step. Step. Step. A predictable rhythm, sound, routine movement. In this way the sun rose high, the temperature rising, although, it wasn't much warmer. It was sunny at least, it's usually raining in area. It doesn't usually snow either, maybe twice a year, but it was typically moderate. Something about unique climate or whatever, I liked it anyway.

I stopped on one of the rails and let the strong breeze pierce my yellow jacket. It was old and patched with spare fabrics, bright yellow repaired with strange floral squares and similar stuff, even fish patterns. I had been wearing it for years and I would wear it until the day I die. Okay that's a bit dramatic, but it was a gift from my dad and patched by my mom, I was attached. I tried to step forward but my foot didn't want to listen and my shoe sunk into the gravel and dirt between rails. Time to go home.

The walk wasn't long, a mile or so, the bridge told me when I was nearly there. I normally would have walked the broad stone railing, but not today.

I loved my house. It was somewhat small, but it was enough for us. My mom was on the porch, reading quietly. She smiled when she saw me opening the iron gate. I loved her smile. It was pure love and kindness, gentle and warm with a hint of sadness. Just like her. No one truly kind will live without suffering.

"Jamie! Welcome home!" She greeted, standing slowly too open the door.

"Keep reading, mom, I can get the door."

"Nonsense! I was just about to start lunch, everyone is out back."

I knew better than to argue, "Can I help at least?"

She smiled again, "Of course, dear!"

We made grilled cheese sandwiches because they were Liana's favorite and it was her turn to choose lunch on Sunday. I called the rest of my family inside.

I helped mom set the table and waited for my sisters to come in. Liana was first, she was eight and an endless source of energy. Beautiful blonde hair in wild curls, she was the spitting image of my mother, except she had Tony's green eyes. I was the only one with my mom's hazel eyes but otherwise resembled my father . My other sister, Jenassa looked like Tony, with perfectly straight dark hair bound in a tight braid. It was easy to forget that she was only three years younger than me at fourteen, fifteen in a week. Tony had Jaci from his first marriage but we were close right away. She followed Tony, a tall man with laugh lines around his eyes who always looked at my mom softly, as if he couldn't be luckier. My little brother, Larson-Jake - We called him LJ - waddled in as fast as his little four year old legs would carry him. He looked like the perfect mix between his parents and I wondered how he would look when he got older.