viola, de ezt azert nem hiszem
[Freefall Writing]-- Viola Rosche
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Only one hour left. She panics, moving nervously around, her eyes wandering through the large room that is thoroughly filled with the light of dawn.
Her mind works like an engine. Tomorrow, she has to be at the Chemistry department at 7:30. That means getting up really early, eating some breakfast ... oh no, as usual, she will probably oversleep and then just quickly eat a cheese sandwich while she will be running down the cobblestone street on her daily way from the dorm down the castle crossing the river to university.
Only 54 minutes left. Her thoughts had just wandered off, she suddenly realizes. So where to begin? Should she start doing the French translation exercise that she has been avoiding for so long? Or the English linguistic summary she should have already completed two weeks ago? Hectically, her feet jiggle up and down, beating the ground. Her heart beats fast and the blood rushes to her head.
Suddenly, a smile shows on her face. Taking a quick look around the room, she carefully takes a last sip of her green tea, grabs a white sheet of paper and starts to write hastily.
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Before going to sleep
-- Viola Rosche
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My mind. Blurring the edges. The computer screen dissolves. Sleepiness conquers me and unfolds its wings of dark calmness over me.
It's been a long day. Five hours are not sufficient to get through the day. Though there is nothing better than getting up way too early, stepping outside rubbing my eyes and hiding a little yawning and then, there is sunshine. Beautiful warming awakening sun shine makes me forget the misery of the night before. The picture gets sharp and clear again.
My room is cozy, a candle chasing away the shadows of the night. The corners of the room are dark though, scary spots I don't even dare to glance at. No, all I need is here on my lap, my computer connecting me with the world. I feel like I should go to bed now. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you better not be sleepy, so many wonderful new challenging things are about to happen. How are you going to enjoy them being tired?
But there is this other voice inside me. Come on, you are only 20, you never know what is coming down the line. My grandmother's voice reaching my thoughts. I just called her a few hours ago, my granddad is in hospital, he is not doing good. Viola, you are still young. You should live life to the fullest, not looking back and crying about losing the ones you love. We two have had a fulfilled life so far, not always easy, but we have made it. And now, it is okay, that this might end soon. Don't look back at us, keep your face to the sun!
I don't want life to remove and erase you like words crossed out on a rough draft of a story. Don't worry, I came up with a better idea. No, there is nothing that could ever replace you in my life. You used to let me sit on your lap, telling me stories about when you were young. About this little girl in a country where sunflowers grew. She liked you and treated you well though you spoke a different language and were supposed to be the enemy. One time, I almost drowned in the river we were walking along, and you comforted me and wrapped me in a warm blanket and got me some sweet hot chocolate. I still remember the special mug you used. The one that your own grandmother had decorated with tiny little green leaves one of them with the color scratched off. Already fading ...
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Copyright remains with the author. First electronic serial rights only to RedNeck.
posted by kilincs @ 3:43 AM
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