My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

" Morning Eilish," he calls after me, but I ignore him, keeping my back stiff and straight, sitting as ladylike as I possibly can. I feel his eyes burning into my back and I chastise myself for not stopping to talk to him.

It is as if my mind is set to repeat and this happens again and again, until he gets up and grabs onto my horse, just as I am passing him.

He looks up at me. "So, how long is this going to carry on?"

" I have no idea what you are talking about." I look down at him pompously.

He laughs loudly. "Yes, you do."

I answer insulted, "No, I don't."

" Stop awhile, if you don't mind, and talk with me."

He reaches his arms up toward me, and with my heart in my stomach, I lean down to him. He helps me down from the horse and then I sit down next to him on the wall. We sit there silently, looking out over the fields, the grass gently swaying in the breeze. The silence feels comfortable and I feel at ease in his company.

The sun starts to set over the horizon, painting the rolling hills in a cascade of pastel colours and still neither one of us say a word.

I get up to go and he holds me back by taking my hand. The sensation, which runs through my veins at this simple gesture, the touch of his skin against mine, makes my heart race.

" Will you meet me here again tomorrow?"

" Maybe," I reply coyly.

I pull my hand from his gently and walk away, as he calls after me, "I hope so."

My unbelievable attraction to him is intense. It is scary and daunting.

The memory of this dream remains with me longer than the others. In my everyday life, my parents continue making plans, packing boxes, shipping favourite pieces of furniture, seemingly oblivious, as always, of how I feel. My mom starts to pack the things in my room. Slowly my cosy, comfortable haven starts to resemble an empty shell with four walls and a bed. All my memories are slowly stripped from the walls and my surroundings. With trepidation, I feel the inevitable future rush toward me.

Sometimes my mom creeps into my room late at night. She, more often than not, asks me softly if I am sleeping, and when I say no, she sits down on my bed next to me. She takes my hand into hers, smiling encouragingly, and then she tries to convince me how great it will be to make new friends, to widen my horizons and how I will do well anywhere in the world, because I am such a bright girl.