This story is the first ‘real’ story that I ever wrote. This is a genuine story, because it came out of my head. Sometimes at brick and mortar school, teachers would try to put their things in my head–to make me write things that I did not want to as stories. They made me feign what they thought that a story should be. Once I became a young adult, and had left those bossy teachers behind, I wrote my first real story, and I have been dedicated to writing whatever my imagination conjures in my head ever since.
The Girl in the Pond
Wendy quietly watched her small pond. “How interesting and lovely you are,” she whispered to it. She bent down and carefully placed a curved emerald green leaf on its surface. The pond sparkled cheerfully in the sunshine, whispering in the slight breeze. It was one of those spring days that was simply alive.
Her pond was so calm and still that it was blue, with a small lonely looking cloud a little farther off than the middle of it. Wendy’s gentle dark blue eyes flickered and sparkled mysteriously. A tall tree stood nearby, covering her in a coolness from its shadow that caused Wendy to shiver with delight.
“Hello,” Wendy smiled crookedly. Her smile always looked rather naughty, but the girl in the pond who smiled back seemed to have a full beautiful smile. She rippled slightly. “I was wondering… What is it like down there with those fish swimming around in that sky?” They must be like birds, swimming around in the open, perching on things, and sleeping in trees, Wendy thought. She didn’t see any now, but she leaned forward and peered in eagerly.
The girl seemed to think. Her eyes lit up suddenly.
“They must be your friends, of course…” Wendy mused. It must be awfully nice to have fish as friends, she thought.
The girl smiled again and gave a friendly nod.
“Wendy Eigaine!” Her mother Mrs. Eigaine called, closing the white gate to the back door behind her. She held a baby in one arm, and waved with the other. “There you are! Don’t lean in too far!”
Wendy did not like to worry her mother, especially now. Wendy was born in the year 1933; a March baby. And now, it seemed, to be born in this time was quite a mistake. Everyone talked fearfully of the Nazis. With a quick wave to the girl in the pond, she turned around.
“Father will be coming home from leave soon,” a small half smile lit up one side of Mrs. Eigaine’s face, the same crooked smile as Wendy’s. “I know that he will.” She sat down on the wooden bench next to the back door gate with hearts carved into it. The radio’s fuzzy voices drifted out through the open doorway behind.
Wendy turned slowly back to her pond. The girl was still there, smiling slightly as little shards of white sparkled about her. Wendy stopped breathing. She saw a fish, but not a fish at all. It was moving about in the water, almost in a slithery way. It was soot black, and quite small and sharp looking. Wendy heard a buzzing noise. She looked at the girl in the pond. Her face was pale. Her eyes were round and horrified. She had seen it. A frog came up to the surface out of her face, which made Wendy jump back.
Wendy looked up at the sky to the black airplane circling above.
“Mum,” Wendy murmured, “there’s an aeroplane.”
“What?” she called, rearranging the blanket around Wendy’s baby sister.
“Mum, look, it’s an aeroplane!” Wendy screamed, staring at the sky.
Mrs. Eigaine gasped and looked up, “Not Colchester,” she whispered, “Please, no…” Her hand was over her mouth.
The plane looked evil and filled Wendy with black hopeless dread. Wendy looked back at her pond. The girl had turned herself, too, to stare as it circled. The sun went out, because the lonely cloud had finally found it. The dull sound of the alarms shrieked off, but it was too late. The earth shook, and Wendy found herself hot and limp on the ground at her last moment of consciousness.
She was hugging her mother and her little baby sister. She was crying, and her mother was smoothing her hair and saying soothing words like a soft lullaby.
“I know you will grow up to be a beautiful intelligent young woman. I will be proud of you no matter what happens to you, or where you are, or where you’re going. Wendy, I’m with you right now, and I’m never leaving you for a moment.”
Wendy just cried, with no sound coming out. She cried and cried, until her mother kissed her forehead and faded into the air in golden white light.
Wendy breathed in raspily. It was the sun that had woken her up. She sat up, slowly. She was beside her pond. The grass was green, the sun was shining, and the water was blue, but something was wrong. There were flecks of black in her pond. She would have noticed those before. Also, there were no birds chirping. Wendy turned around. Her house was a soot black skeleton, with fire still dancing and eating the little that was left of it. Her mother and her baby sister were gone, probably the heap of ashes somewhere over there. Wendy just stood there, frozen in shock. She didn’t know for how long. It felt like how time passes in a dream.
“Little girl!” A man in a British uniform ran to her and held her shoulders, “Are you hurt young lady?”
Her lips just quivered, and no sound came out. Her hand was clutching something, she realized. She had absent-mindedly clutched it. It was the silver locket with her parent’s pictures kept safe inside.
“I’m with you right now, and I’m never leaving you for a moment,” Wendy thought.