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Pure Hearted

By @KittyKoala

The shock sets in

It all started on a Wednesday. Wednesday the 12th of April at 2:34PM. That was the moment that changed my life.

The clock struck 2:29 and I was shuffling through the empty hallways as my fingers nervously plucked at the skin on my upper arm. English class was next and the ill possibility of receiving an A on the recent test loomed in the back of my mind. I shook my head as if it would knock the thought away and made my way towards the classroom. I paused at the doorway, staring into the room. There was only one other person there and I was hit with a twinge of guilt every time I saw her. Mila was the infamous outcast of my year and she might have been spared that fate if I didn’t blend into the woodwork so well. Like her, I always carried a book and had a grade average higher than a B. And unlike her, I was a raging clutz with the luck of a reverse leprechaun. So why was she the one they ridiculed?

I snapped out of my pitying daze and started weaving my way towards my seat. Making my way past Mila’s desk, my foot caught on the leg and I toppled over. My arms shot out in front of me and my head winced, preparing for the impact of the floor. But there wasn’t one. For a second, I froze in my position, thinking the pain was about to kick in. I figured I must have broken something and be numb from shock. But then I realised, I wasn’t numb at all. A soft breeze blew past my cheeks and the cold tickle widened my eyes. My whole body jolted noticing several inches between my face and the carpet I was hovering over. I gulped in a breath of air and crashed to the ground in an instant.

A paralysing stun took over my body and left me face down in the middle of the classroom. But it was sucked out of me the moment the bell echoed through my ears.

It was 2:35. The lesson had begun.

Overloaded with panic, I stumbled to my feet and scurried to my seat at the back by the window. Like clockwork, the students flooded in and Miss Wrencham marched to the chalkboard to scribble down the instructions for today’s lesson. My eyes drifted over my shoulder, turning her words to a blur and fell on the verdant giant that towered over the school. I followed the falling leaves with my gaze as an uncountable amount of thoughts began attacking my mind at once.

Interrupting my trance, a paper flew at my chest and I snapped my head forward to peer down at the essay I handed in last week. The words on the page melded into each other and before I got lost in the blending white and black, I swiped my hand across the desk to send it floating out of sight. There was no room in my head to think about my grade.

A haze followed me around the entire day as I relentlessly debated out illogical theories.

You were simply sucked into a worm hole and spat out again, delaying your perception of time.

Maybe you defied the laws of gravity because gravity doesn’t exist. Yep, that’s plausible.

A hidden camera show, that’s it!

Ghost’s can distort reality right?

…A bee sting?

My mind drained of sensation, my body turned stiff and I halted dead in the middle of the hallway. Crowds of faceless people pushed past me to get home as it finally began to dawn on me. If I wasn’t losing my mind, then the impossible had happened. And all I could hear echoing through my mind were the words: which is more realistic? The realisation hit me like a bulldozer. It sucked the air from my lungs and encouraged the palpitations to thump harsher against my chest. I had convinced myself of what anyone else would in my position; I convinced myself I was crazy.

Emptiness surrounded me. Lights flickered off, one by one; sending a flash of darkness to travel across the stretching hallway, towards the distant doors looming at the entrance. That was when the sensation began to nip at the tips of my fingers; feeling spreading over my arms and returning movement to my body. Not only was I forced away from my catatonic state, but I was thrown straight into a panicked one. It was 5:45 and I only had 15 minutes. 15 minutes until my front door was locked and I would be stuck on the streets for the night – that’s the rule at Chez Westwood.

Breaking out in a desperate dash home, my legs tore with each overzealous leap, and another thought crept its way into my head. Would they even notice if I never came home? A gust of icy wind hit the tears emerging on my cheeks and stung my skin with a rage. Every emotion inside of me was screaming to come out at once. But I couldn’t allow a single one. Shaking off the pain, I propelled myself into an even swifter sprint that ripped into my calves.

Just as the door slammed behind me, the hand met the six, triggering the cuckoo clock to spring into action. To avoid a run in with the stoic stare my mother always carried with her, I promptly sped upstairs on my tiptoes. Once I collapsed onto my bed with exhaustion, I began to plan my night in a hopeful state of mind. I wasn’t in the mood to cross paths with my parents, so I settled on the junk food I kept under my bed. But the chocolate melting in my mouth felt sour and I had little motivation to bite down on the popcorn. I tried to bring my focus to tv, but I had no interest in any of my favourite shows. With every attempt at relaxation being thwarted, I surrendered to the sandman and crawled under the covers. My back sunk into the sheets and my body fell into a paralyzed posture. Every part of me released itself to a deep slumber. Every part but my eyes, which were still glued to the lightly glowing ceiling.


By the time it got to 4 am, the glow in the dark stars spun in my head as clear as an actual constellation. Reality began to fade and I drifted into peace and replenishment. But it only lasted a moment. My eyes shot open and staring down at my bed, I immediately hurtled into the pulpous bedding. Wiping my hair from my eyes, my head shifted to the side as I sighed into the duvet. 

At least I know it’s real now.

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