1st person
I stared out of my window. How did a Saturday afternoon become so grey, so dark, so quickly? The rain was pouring down, filling the streets with hurrying shoppers, eager to get home. I sighed, looking down at the blank paper in my hand.
Task 1 - A poem about being lonely.
I could do this. Hadn't I always considered myself a romantic? Perhaps it was because I was moving closer to the truth about my life by writing this. I looked out of the window, towards the cloudy sky. I wondered about her, the girl from the fountain. Was she looking out at the same sky, right now? I closed my eyes, remembered every detail.
Time had always slowed down for me in the square. Today I was sat at the base of one of the statues. I had been writing, occasionally pausing to think. A pigeon landed by my feet, wandering towards me like it thought I had food. I shivered a little. I've never been comfortable around birds. I tried to shoo it away, with little success. It looked at me, with the light glinting off of it's bright, beady eyes. I stood up, deciding to walk away, since there was little point in trying to work with that thing watching me.
Suddenly, the bird flew up, making me duck. Before I knew it, I was falling into the water. For a few seconds, all I saw was blue and the water closed over me. Then I noticed a distorted shadow, blocking out the sky. It extended a hand and I was pulled out of the fountain.
"I'm sorry if I startled you." The shadow said. Female, I decided. I stood up, realizing that I was drenched. Water was cascading from my hair, dripping back into the fountain. Embarrassed, I began to apologize, attempting to wring out as much of the water as I could. It was then that I noticed the girl's clothing. The simple dress must have been pretty, once, but was now faded beyond hope. The denim jacket was covered in stitches, probably from years of repair. She wasn't wearing any shoes. I suddenly felt guilty for making this poor girl worry about me, although I wasn't sure why. Muttering the rest of my apology, I pushed past her, moving back towards home. I only looked back once, and there she was, looking right past me, like she hadn't noticed me at all.
I opened my eyes again. The rain had stopped now, replaced by blue twilight. I turned back to the paper, and began to write.
Carrie
Carrie stood outside the gate of number 57. It didn't look like an odd house, but she still had apprehensions. She looked at the address scrawled on the back of the card she'd been given. Yes, this was definitely the place. Taking a deep breath, Carrie opened the gate and walked up to the door, knocking tentatively before stepping back. She waited for a few seconds, looking back to the street. Was her brother even around? He'd said he would be here, but Carrie had learned not to trust everyone. The door clicked, and swung open to reveal a woman, middle aged with short, blond hair. Carrie considered running away now. She'd heard stories about people like her getting taken right off the street, let alone by some strange woman in brother's flats.
"Hello?" The woman asked, sharply. She had a voice that could cut through diamonds. Carrie found her voice, and managed to ask if her brother was around. The woman pursed her lips, motioning for Carrie to wait inside while she went to ask at his flat.
As the woman climbed slowly up the stairs, Carrie looked around. This was a nice place, she could tell. Proper stone floors, curtains, the works. There was a door just across from her, made of some kind of deep red wood. Stained with blood... she thought, shivering. Mike was always telling her she needed to grow up, stop letting her imagination run away with her. There was a crash from upstairs, followed by a shout from the woman.
Carrie moved over to the stairway and looked up. it was one of the old-fashioned ones, where you can see right up to the top. Mike's voice drifted down from above, apologizing about something or other. The suddenly, he was looking straight down at Carrie, smiling his old goofy grin, the one he had before he lost his job. Carrie smiled back as Mike started to descend the stairs. Her brother was back at last, even if he was living in a creepy old house with a mad old woman.
Mike reached the bottom of the stairs and Carrie ran towards him, enveloping him in a hug, almost knocking him over. Behind him, the woman tutted, pushing her way past. Carrie didn't care. For the second time in two years, she was with her brother, with no drunken parents to hurt her, no bullies for him to have to chase off.
She looked up at him. "So this is where you live?" She asked, confused. "I thought you had your own flat, with May!" For the first time, Carrie looked down at the suitcase in her hand. If the old woman didn't like her, she'd have to move out, go back to Mum's house... Carrie shook her head. That wasn't going to happen, anything but go back there. She looked at Mike with pleading eyes.
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