Alone In My Park, chapter 1
This is the start of a writing project that I'm going to be working on. I don't know about the name, but "Alone In My Park" is the working title for now. I want to try and do a chapter a day, but we'll see how long that works out. In the meantime, I thought I'd share the first chapter with you all.
The world passes by in a blur, going faster and faster, as I pump my skinny legs in and out with all of my strength. Here, I have a lot of strength. Here, I am indestructible. The green grass passes below me, and the blue sky above me are moving so very fast, but I can still see the beautiful, white fluffy clouds, and a few scurrying bugs. I smile as I think of the bugs. I think about how they’re probably running off to play on their own playground. I bet their playground is bigger than mine. And I bet the swings are so tall, that it takes them days just to climb up to them. But time passes by differently for them. And time passes by differently here. This place is a world of its own.
I can feel the swing move faster, and go higher with each pump of my legs, and this only makes me push harder. I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach that you get from a rollercoaster ride. It’s both exhilarating, and scary at the same time. But I just keep pumping my legs harder. Going higher, and higher. Part of me is worried that I might just fall right off of the swing, but I don’t care. Nothing can hurt me here. This is my park, and I know every inch of it. I built this park myself. It took my a long time to get it just the right way, and I love it. It’s the only thing in the world that is all mine.
The sun is beating down on my back, threatening to burn me with its hot rays. But like everything else here, I don’t care. The sun rays actually feel good on my skin, as a light breeze keeps the temperature just the way that I like it. I control everything. Nothing can hurt me here. It never could. Not that anything would try here. If it did, I would just cast it away. This is my safe place. And it is constantly growing. I’m always adding things to the playground. And from the swings, you can see nearly the entire park, if I get going fast enough, and high enough. This place is pure joy.
The swings sit right in the middle of the park. It was my idea to put them there. I saw this swing set in my very favorite book. I found it at the library a few years ago, and just loved that swing set. I remember staring at that cover for hours at a time, just willing it to exist in my world. It’s such a pretty, shiny blue, with two swings. The seats are made with some kind of hard, black material. It can get a bit uncomfortable if it gets to hot, but again, I feel no pain. I don’t allow pain here. I would change them, but that would steal from the authenticity of the swing set from the book. And it would change the magic. No, I like them just the way that they are.
The park has a short, wooden fence surrounding it. The fence looks a bit old, and worn, but I think it has character. It looks like it was made by a hard working man, who took pride in each swing of the hammer. I could have made it look so much nicer, but I didn’t want to. I wanted it to be a natural wood color, and have its own imperfections. All life is that way. Nothing is perfect. And that’s just the way that I like it. At least, that’s the way that I like it here. Outside of my park, nothing is perfect. But that’s okay, because I am here more often than I am anywhere else.
In addition to the swings, I also have a giant merry-go-round that pushes itself (it has a motor installed in the base, that actually plays my favorite song, instead of making the roaring sound of a normal motor), a blue and green teeter totter, video game station (this is one of my very favorite areas of the park. There are so many video games, it would make your head spin), and a bike that I can pedal all day, and it never moves an inch. And that’s just to name some of the attractions here. There is popcorn, cotton candy, funnel cake, and my favorite, pickles on a stick. I get mine with a bit of chocolate to dip it in. That might sound weird to some people, but to me, it is just heavenly. I bet I’ve eaten about a thousand of them. Each bite tasting better than the bite before it. And oh, how crunchy they are. I swear, when I bite into one, you can hear it resonate throughout the entire park.
I’m finally almost high enough to make it around the bar at the top of the swing set. This is my favorite part of swinging. In most parks, you could get really hurt going around the bar like that. I’m not even sure if it’s possible to do so. But not here. Not in my park. In my park, anything that I want is possible. I soar around that bar with a laugh, and work on building up momentum for another trip around it. My highest count so far is nine, but one day I hope to get going so fast that I just keep circling around it. Sort of like a silly character in an old television cartoon. It makes me smile just to think about it. And if I get to thinking too hard, I start laughing so hard that I have to stop swinging for a moment, and regain my composure. The momentum is almost at a fever pitch. You can actually hear my swing cut through the air. It’s carving out a space of the atmosphere, so that I can slide through it effortlessly. The moment is quickly approaching. I love it here. And I love this part so much more than anything that has ever happened to me outside of the park.
Just as I’m about to make the trip around the bar, I feel a strong sting on my back, so hard that I’m sure there will be a bruise later. My first thought is that I was stung by a bee, but then it happens again. The stinging keeps happening, over and over again. The force of it is so hard that it knocks the wind out of me, and almost knocks me out of my swing. “Weird,” I think to myself, “I can’t feel pain in my park. What’s going on?” I feel another sting on my back, this one so hard that I am thrown out of my park, and onto the kitchen floor. The perfect magic of the park disappearing in one quick second. I scream that it’s not fair, but no sound comes out. The wind has been completely knocked out of me, replaced with excruciating pain. I struggle to open my eyes, and just as I do, I see my mom’s boyfriend standing above, raising his fist to hit me in the face. Instinctively I put my hands up, but this only makes it worse. He gets angrier if I try to protect, or defend myself. He’s crazy.
And just like that, I’m out of my park, and back in the real world. Back in my own personal Hell. A Hell that ends only when I escape to the park. I am in constant pain in the real world. Pain from the hits, and the burns, and the stabs. Pain from emotional toll that being treated like I’m nothing can cause me. Pain from the things I’ve been forced to eat, things that nobody should eat. Things that are slowly wearing down my internal organs. Pain from not being loved, or even liked, by those that are supposed to love me the most.
This is the real world. And I hate it.
The world passes by in a blur, going faster and faster, as I pump my skinny legs in and out with all of my strength. Here, I have a lot of strength. Here, I am indestructible. The green grass passes below me, and the blue sky above me are moving so very fast, but I can still see the beautiful, white fluffy clouds, and a few scurrying bugs. I smile as I think of the bugs. I think about how they’re probably running off to play on their own playground. I bet their playground is bigger than mine. And I bet the swings are so tall, that it takes them days just to climb up to them. But time passes by differently for them. And time passes by differently here. This place is a world of its own.
I can feel the swing move faster, and go higher with each pump of my legs, and this only makes me push harder. I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach that you get from a rollercoaster ride. It’s both exhilarating, and scary at the same time. But I just keep pumping my legs harder. Going higher, and higher. Part of me is worried that I might just fall right off of the swing, but I don’t care. Nothing can hurt me here. This is my park, and I know every inch of it. I built this park myself. It took my a long time to get it just the right way, and I love it. It’s the only thing in the world that is all mine.
The sun is beating down on my back, threatening to burn me with its hot rays. But like everything else here, I don’t care. The sun rays actually feel good on my skin, as a light breeze keeps the temperature just the way that I like it. I control everything. Nothing can hurt me here. It never could. Not that anything would try here. If it did, I would just cast it away. This is my safe place. And it is constantly growing. I’m always adding things to the playground. And from the swings, you can see nearly the entire park, if I get going fast enough, and high enough. This place is pure joy.
The swings sit right in the middle of the park. It was my idea to put them there. I saw this swing set in my very favorite book. I found it at the library a few years ago, and just loved that swing set. I remember staring at that cover for hours at a time, just willing it to exist in my world. It’s such a pretty, shiny blue, with two swings. The seats are made with some kind of hard, black material. It can get a bit uncomfortable if it gets to hot, but again, I feel no pain. I don’t allow pain here. I would change them, but that would steal from the authenticity of the swing set from the book. And it would change the magic. No, I like them just the way that they are.
The park has a short, wooden fence surrounding it. The fence looks a bit old, and worn, but I think it has character. It looks like it was made by a hard working man, who took pride in each swing of the hammer. I could have made it look so much nicer, but I didn’t want to. I wanted it to be a natural wood color, and have its own imperfections. All life is that way. Nothing is perfect. And that’s just the way that I like it. At least, that’s the way that I like it here. Outside of my park, nothing is perfect. But that’s okay, because I am here more often than I am anywhere else.
In addition to the swings, I also have a giant merry-go-round that pushes itself (it has a motor installed in the base, that actually plays my favorite song, instead of making the roaring sound of a normal motor), a blue and green teeter totter, video game station (this is one of my very favorite areas of the park. There are so many video games, it would make your head spin), and a bike that I can pedal all day, and it never moves an inch. And that’s just to name some of the attractions here. There is popcorn, cotton candy, funnel cake, and my favorite, pickles on a stick. I get mine with a bit of chocolate to dip it in. That might sound weird to some people, but to me, it is just heavenly. I bet I’ve eaten about a thousand of them. Each bite tasting better than the bite before it. And oh, how crunchy they are. I swear, when I bite into one, you can hear it resonate throughout the entire park.
I’m finally almost high enough to make it around the bar at the top of the swing set. This is my favorite part of swinging. In most parks, you could get really hurt going around the bar like that. I’m not even sure if it’s possible to do so. But not here. Not in my park. In my park, anything that I want is possible. I soar around that bar with a laugh, and work on building up momentum for another trip around it. My highest count so far is nine, but one day I hope to get going so fast that I just keep circling around it. Sort of like a silly character in an old television cartoon. It makes me smile just to think about it. And if I get to thinking too hard, I start laughing so hard that I have to stop swinging for a moment, and regain my composure. The momentum is almost at a fever pitch. You can actually hear my swing cut through the air. It’s carving out a space of the atmosphere, so that I can slide through it effortlessly. The moment is quickly approaching. I love it here. And I love this part so much more than anything that has ever happened to me outside of the park.
Just as I’m about to make the trip around the bar, I feel a strong sting on my back, so hard that I’m sure there will be a bruise later. My first thought is that I was stung by a bee, but then it happens again. The stinging keeps happening, over and over again. The force of it is so hard that it knocks the wind out of me, and almost knocks me out of my swing. “Weird,” I think to myself, “I can’t feel pain in my park. What’s going on?” I feel another sting on my back, this one so hard that I am thrown out of my park, and onto the kitchen floor. The perfect magic of the park disappearing in one quick second. I scream that it’s not fair, but no sound comes out. The wind has been completely knocked out of me, replaced with excruciating pain. I struggle to open my eyes, and just as I do, I see my mom’s boyfriend standing above, raising his fist to hit me in the face. Instinctively I put my hands up, but this only makes it worse. He gets angrier if I try to protect, or defend myself. He’s crazy.
And just like that, I’m out of my park, and back in the real world. Back in my own personal Hell. A Hell that ends only when I escape to the park. I am in constant pain in the real world. Pain from the hits, and the burns, and the stabs. Pain from emotional toll that being treated like I’m nothing can cause me. Pain from the things I’ve been forced to eat, things that nobody should eat. Things that are slowly wearing down my internal organs. Pain from not being loved, or even liked, by those that are supposed to love me the most.
This is the real world. And I hate it.
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