Caitlin, studying Industrial Design and Technology. Based in Loughborough.
  • Confined

    It’s funny how you can disagree on absolutely everything, yet still remain to be friends. S’pose it is because we care…

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  • Dream world

    As I walk up the steep slopes, the frosty wind nips at my exposed neck. I was not prepared for the climb. The birds swoop effortlessly across the direction of the wind.

    Up there I can see Peace.

    The clouds are low nearly colliding with the Earth’s surface. Their shapes form darkness on the grass before me, considering their light and fluffy form it seems like a contradiction on nature. Yet the grass is undeterred and is still a trying green. The shadows merely dampen its brightness.

    As my feet are crunching against the grass, its voices are husky and scratchy, wheezing with my every step. Their grappling scratches urge me to move onto the dirtied white chalk to ease their suffering.

    I saw Peace beginning to drift up toward the top of the slopes. Her trail leaves the grass silent, not even a whisper in comparison to my old treads. The grasses are silent, captured by the beauty of Peace rising. Rising effortlessly like the birds.

    The chalk is slippery. Slippery as I attempt to follow Her up the slope. The surrounding slopes undulate across the land, houses move with them planted to the ground, trying to keep their place.

    Whilst I stagger up the cruel, never ending ascent, Peace hovers in the air waiting for me. Willing me to come and rise up to meet her. The slope is still so steep and the ground treacherous beneath my feet. The wind changes every minute or so, teasing me, longing for me to fall to the bottom. Still tickling at my gloves, the tall grass’s needle like tips stab at my uncovered fingers. Yet Peace ignores my suffering and glides up on ahead.

    My boots still pound at the chalk, to prove that I will stay standing. Peace graces me with her eyes briefly as she glances back. The clouds break away from the sky and surround Peace and I as I rise to the peak.

    On reaching the top of the climb the sun finally dawned on the grass, it’s voices became muffled and needles pulled away from my sides. Only now on this clarity of light could I see that Peace was drained. Her skin was tough and jagged. I could see how the scars, such imperfections, caused the light to dapple on her skin. Many years of war and struggles were etched on her face. It is hard to look away and ignore the way she is basking in the sunlight. Yet it her face is not ugly, just pained, it still made me yearn for her. The same desire that erred me to follow her up the slope.

    A cloud hovers momentarily over her, she is now smooth and pale again. Her turquoise eyes, pierced my soul, yet they are somber is some way. She held out her hand. The cloud started to disappear and she is now turning cold and bitter. My time had clearly passed. A scowl began to cross her face, I held out my hand to try and comfort her. Try to ease the pain of the years, spent under the doom and gloom of those clouds forever following her. She stilled, staring heartlessly at me and started to drift towards the height less sky.

    It was then I realised, Peace only comes when you are in absolute darkness, fighting or in difficulty. My current turmoil seems pitiful now on this realisation. Mine was not enough when the light came. The light is her magnify glass to see if you are worthy. I could not hide the disappointment, dropping my eyes hesitantly, even though my body is lapping up the warm yellow light from the sun. Obviously I am not enough or even adequate to have Peace at this time.

    Deep in my thoughts, staring at the ground, I catch a glimmer of her. She is sweeping upward by that perilous wind. My encounter with Peace was over, the world returned to it’s drained state. The atmosphere became like her skin, jagged and tough. Grass grew longer and the clouds multiplied, carpeting the sky. Hiding any sun that once shone through.

    The grass is returning to my feet again, but now swirling and entangling itself around my thighs whilst bounding my hands. I felt the grass dragging me back down to the bottom of the slope. The chalk grazed my face as went, now lying on my front.

    My head grew foggy, I was losing reality, but meeting Peace was not real. It could not be. I was not worthy of receiving Peace. Peace’s presence would have to be earned without the illusions created in my mind.

    August 18
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