There was a place

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There was a place

July 2002

Catherine Rose

There was a place I used to go. I discovered it some time ago now. It must have

been about three years ago, one hot summer evening. I remember as if it was

yesterday.

I had got home from school after athletics practice only to be greeted by

screams and shouts of my parents. They had always argued. Since as long as I can

remember there has never been one day where there haven’t been harsh words

thrown across a room, directed to wound the other person. Today was no

different. I could hear Mum crying and Dad shouting to put across his point in

the kitchen. The atmosphere was so tense. I didn’t want to stay and listen

because I could tell I’d be asked an opinion on who was right and I would have

to take sides. So I quietly wandered upstairs.

        I walked into my small room and flung my bag onto my unmade bed. My

room was tiny and cramped. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls and my desk

was shoved up right next to the wardrobe, just so my bed could fit in the strangely

oblong room. But there was the advantage of having a fantastically huge window

looking over the garden.

The scene was vast and I often sat on my bed and just looked. However all I saw

was a tangled mess just like inside the house. But today as I looked out towards

Join now!

the weedy garden and overgrown flowerbeds I saw that the trees surrounding the

garden had been cut down. The garden looked larger now and I could for once, see

beyond the garden fence. I stood up and looked out. I saw colossal oak tress and

a small lake. How had I ever not known it was there? It looked so calm. But I

was brought back to reality as I heard Mum throw something at Dad. It smashed

and as it did, I felt my heart shatter. I hated it when they argued. I decided I

had had enough.

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