Goodbye is the hardest word

Three days ago I finished the 7th grade. Wow. Such a small statement, but a lot of meaning.

Three days ago I finished the 7th grade. Any normal person would be all "WAHOO!" right about... now. But somehow, that feeling never came to me. Instead, a sad feeling started to overcome me. Tears filled my eyes, as I had to say goodbye to people. Some just for the summer, and some forever. Goodbye is probably the hardest thing to say. When someone says sorry, you don't have to mean it in any case. But, goodbye, is meaningful when said to anybody. In a boarding school, what starts out as friendship, turns into family.

At the end of the semester, I felt like a part of the family. The connections I had with my classmates and friends were unbelievably strong. Even with the people I thought hated me, they really meant something to me in the end.

It would be hard to leave my family for 2 months, and that too, to spend that time with another family. It gets sort of confusing, switching between the two. And then you ask yourself, to whom do I really belong? I mean, you share the same blood as your immediate family, but you spend more time with your Woodstock family. The truth is that they're both your family, and they unite together to become one family.

Puppet of the Past

I remember it as if it was yesterday…

The moon, it glints through the curtains of my room,
Shining brightly into my eyes, like heaven's light.

But all around, darkness creeps, rises, and wraps its cold arms around me.
I avert my eyes to the dull ceiling, the fan above me, whirring slowly...
I hear voices, echoing in my mind, though all is silent, only one thing can I hear,
Cruel, humorless, imitations of my loved one’s voices and a spine-chilling laughter rings in my ears.

Cold as ice, frozen in eternal hell this laughter was. I try and make it go away, but it repeats itself like a broken record
I see shadows, and mysterious figures racing across the room, and I know in my heart, that they are nothing more than my wild imagination.
Still, the feeling that someone is watching my every move sinks in my heart, captures my breath like quicksand, and smothers my every scream.

I feel things crawling up my back; I shiver, not because of the cold, but the cold feeling that runs through me still.
I feel like a puppet, controlled by the darkness around me, an invisible puppeteer holding my strings.
I hear the thunder, louder than normal, or only a hallucination.

I look out the window and see tiny drops of water settle onto the window pane, captured as prisoners, their sad faces wanting to be free. My heart beats to the rhythm of the rain, faster every moment. Thump, thump, drip. Thump, thump, thump, drip.

Then, I see an almost iridescent figure, looking at me straight in the eye, as if a warning.
I hear it whisper, "Don't look back, don't look back", and its voice fades away.

The wind blows the window open and a gust of cold air rushes into the room, and I, nothing but a pile of ashes, am swept out of the room, lost forever, my existence forgotten in time…