um.. i'm new to this thing and i haven't really had a chance to write anything. this is a piece i did for an english class a few years back, PLEASE comment and tell me what you think ! XD
Gone with the Wind
The faces around me are a blurry swarm of colour, their faces pink with elation so immense it makes them giddy. I should be like them. But I'm not. All I can think about are the events of the previous day. I look outside the bus window, feel the wind caress me like a lover would and surrender myself to the swirl of colours that pass me by. I wish I were a leaf, no cares whatsoever, carried by the breeze.
I'm brought back out of my selfish dreaming by their singing. They sound like they're drunks in a pub. But of course not, these are the saints; who would never even touch a beer, let alone think of one! God forbid! Drink is the root of all evil, the root of Man's problems.
Wait, there's something wrong; even the oh so wonderful choir has stopped their disgraceful howling and started to scream instead. Not that anyone would be able to tell the difference. The bus is leaning to one side and the driver is screaming something about the brakes not working. Oh Goodie. I get to die. And join my unborn baby in Hell.
There's a screeching and the bus topples over. A fire starts but the occupants of the car behind have already called the fire department. Less than five minutes later, it arrives and the flames die with a hiss. Nevertheless, all the occupants are dead.
The families do all the appropriate weeping and sobbing. Except for one. Their daughter had died true, but she had also caused them shame and damaged their integrity the day before. When the policeman had come to deliver the tidings of her death, he had braced himself for the weeping and the tears bound to trickle down the old man's beard. Instead, the man's face was expressionless and his response seemed uncaring and expecting compared to the reactions of the other families.
As the policeman walked down the path, it occurred to him that her father had seemed too cold, as if he already knew what had happened; as if he had something to do with it. While this feeling grew and nagged at him all day, he knew he could not present the Chief with a mere hunch. So he forgot about it. The one man that could have avenged those sixteen year olds' death forgot about it.
As Marie's father continued to work during the day, he could not help but feel some satisfaction. That nasty little slut of a daughter of his had died! Fixing the bus tyres had been an easy job, but cutting that brake line had been a bit tricky to do without anyone seeing him, but he had achieved it. How dare she get pregnant! Just the thought of it still made his blood boil. His wife hadn't been too keen on killing her, but she was soon persuaded by the damage it would no doubt inflict on their reputation.
At the funeral, they managed to squeeze out some tears. But the lack of sobs was nevertheless noticed despite their efforts. At the end of the funeral, a leaf fluttered onto Marie's gravestone, but then a breeze caught it and it was gone with the wind.
