Winter 2016-17 Creative Works

Welcome to the Creative Works page! This is where students submit their drawings, stories, and other work. This section is run by Caden Wheeler and if you want to see your work on here please go to the Contact page at the bottom of the Creative Works section!

STORIES and POEMS

My Last Thread of Hope

By Ruqaiyah Damrah

Thump, thump, thump, thump. My feet keep a steady rhythm as I jog along the flat, dead ground. My bones are jarred with each step, but I keep running. My stomach roars in hunger, as I haven’t eaten in a week. I keep running. My body aches in every place, as I have not stopped running for... how long? Four days? I have lost all sense of time, as I can no longer see the sky. I just see grayness and gloom. But I don’t stop running. I never will. Not until I find her.

The air is filled with dust and reeks of decaying flesh. Lifeless bodies are strewn everywhere. I managed to ignore them a long time ago. There is not a tree or even a weed in sight. There is not a mouse or even a fly. There is no sign of life anywhere. But I know deep inside of me, she is out there. Somewhere. I will reach her even if I have to run to the ends of the earth.

My knees buckle underneath me. I collapse to the ground. My breathing is shallow and rapid. My heart is too fast. My head feels like it’s on fire. I slowly push myself up with my hands. I have to reach her. I will reach her. No matter what happens. I feel her inside of me, whispering. I can’t make out the words, but I know it’s her. I know it’s my twin sister and I can’t let her go. She’s calling to me from somewhere.

When I start running again, scenes from my life flood me. Going on picnics with family and friends. Watching movies. Swimming in the cool pond in the woods. Playing baseball with my brother. Lying on the grass with my sister on those lazy, sticky summer days. I shut my eyes wanting to block the flood. Wanting to forget, but to no avail.

When World War lll started everything changed. Our house was destroyed. We spent our days at a warehouse with other families in fear. Bombs were dropped. Battles were fought. People were killed. Humans didn’t realize they were destroying earth and humankind. When they did, it was too late. One day we heard that the government was distributing food in another city. My mother and father were wounded, and my brother was too small to go. Mona decided to go. I tried going with her, but she wouldn’t let me. I’ll never forgive myself. The day that Mona left, the new bomb was dropped, destroying the whole country. So many other countries were already annihilated, but I didn’t expect it in ours. My parents and brother died. I didn’t feel anything inside of me. I just felt like a hollow, cold shell. I ran for days without stopping, following the voice. Grasping that last thread of hope. This might sound like the delusions of a desperate girl who has lost her whole family, but it isn’t. I know she’s alive.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea sweeps over me. I bend down, my hands on my knees, retching bile. There is not enough air in my lungs. I slip away from consciousness, and fall down to the ground.

When I regain consciousness, I am staring at myself. Long face. Thin, wispy blond hair. Green eyes the color of the sea. “Mona,” I whisper hoarsely. Mona, my sister Mona, smiles that bright smile of hers. Her smile can make you forget every horrible thing in the world. “You okay now?” she asks softly. I nod, even though it shoots spikes of pain through me. I notice several scars and wounds on Mona’s face. The tears finally come. I’ve been holding them in forever, but I finally release them. “It’s going to be okay,” Mona whispers. “We have each other now. It will be okay.”

I think of everything I saw. The still bodies. The dust and ashes. The never-ending grayness. The deadness. Things might not be okay, but it at least I found her. That’s what matters more than anything.