The Story Of My Life ( Finished).

A Bucket Of Tears

She would talk to me after that. She knew I was there, even though she couldn’t see or hear me. She would tell or ask me something and I would either respond by writing or drawing a picture. She gave me company for decades. She told me about her dreams, her wishes and her worries but somehow she would always talk about her brother. At times that was all she WOULD talk about. I would try to get her off the subject. To distract her, but it would be no use when I would see her eyes; Hazelnut brown, just like her hair which complimented her fair skin and the freckles on her cheeks. It broke my heart to see her cry. I wanted to make sure that every child would have a smile on their faces. Sometimes I would hear them praying for snow to come in summer so that they wouldn’t have to give their pop quizzes or exams. I made sure of that. She was around eighteen or seventeen now. She told me that her mother left the house because the grief of losing Jack was too much. She held back a sob and sat down, her head in her knees. Her hair had become quite longer and she had become quite tall. She was around my height now. I had no idea what to do. From everything she told me this was the number one thing which I didn’t know how to respond to. She lifted her head and cried ‘Jack Frost are you there?’ I quickly wrote ‘Yes I’m here; don’t worry I’m just lost for words’ she gave me a weak smile and said ‘I knew you would understand. That was my expression as well.’ I couldn’t help but grin. It suddenly dawned on me that the girl sitting beside me was the best thing that ever happened to me. If I hadn’t found this place, and her, then I would have been lonely for ever. I started scribbling on the dirt as fast as I could. The words were frozen in the air. This was what was written. ‘Emma, if you had a choice would you live forever or would you watch your life go by without you being not able to do anything. Without you not staying in a certain age which you love’ I started biting my nails, each force gave them a slight tinge of blue and then they returned to their natural white colour. ‘... It depends on who I would want to live with Jack.’ was her answer after pondering over the question. This time I started trying to speak- trying to make her listen. Then I asked her if she believed in me. Her answer broke my heart into a million pieces. ‘How can I believe in something when it’s a figment of my imagination?’  Her answer was simple, innocent and it was the truth at that time but the amount of pain that I endured was unspeakable to put in words and the result was of me holding back a sob but my eyes suddenly watery. I left after a week. I wanted to be heard and to be seen- but my emotions were getting the best of me.