The Leap.

THE LEAP.

The mountains stretched above, their majestic prowess barely visible in twilights approaching mists.
Air gushed in torrents of fading curls from the mouths of spectators, their tension tangible to the touch.
It arose, as if in flight before plummeting down to occupy the hearts and minds of each person present.
High up, one man, his red coat glinting in the last rays of the day, was perched upon a protruding crevice.

His features tense, stretched in anticipation , mirroring that of his awaiting audience, far below.
A single  copper tinged hair falls into his ice blue eyes, blinding the man temporarily, before his gloved hand , clasping a ski pole in a death grip, brushes it aside.

The world is still.
waiting,
watching.
Nothing exists but this man and this mountain,
and for a moment, one brief moment , suspended in time, they become one...
...Before the blood rushes back and to the triumphant roar of his supporters and one final intake of breath,
the man leaps.


By
 Clara Skoog-Smyth.

Kiah's Creative Writing Blog

Goodbyes

(Based on actual experiences)

The gentle turquoise waves lap against the grainy, wet sand. The smell of the sea and sunscreen invade the senses. The taste of salt water is tangible as the cool water drips down my upper arms. The only sounds are of the waves and a few small children making sand castles. A careful breeze rolls through the beach, catching my wet hair and dragging it across my sun-kissed shoulders. The sand is hot between my toes and sticks to my damp feet. I trek through the already travelled sand to the cool water. It wraps around my ankles gently and washes away the next second. The smell of the ocean is stronger beside the waves. I turn and walk back up the beach, my feet already covered in sand again. I pick up my sand-covered towel and walk up the stick-strewn passageway. Leaving the tranquility and beauty behind me.

I walk across the shards of rock that make a driveway for cars, my feet are hard and calloused from two months of doing this already. I make my way back to the caravan. I am on my own. They must have left when I went for a swim. Small ants trail across my feet and up my legs, leaving a ticklish imprint in their wake. My dog lounges in the shade beside the opposite caravan, pretending he doesn’t notice me. I can feel the hot sun against my bare back and I am more than aware of how my tan line from my bikini will look the next day. My feet hit the hard concrete with a satisfying slap as I enter the caravan. We would be leaving soon.

I try my hardest not to notice the fresh smell of Dettol as I make my way to the shower. I notice a small sandwich in tinfoil resting on the sparkling counter in the kitchen. A note attached read:

‘Eat up. It’s a long car ride.’

I tear the tinfoil away from the bread which makes a metallic sound. I take a large bite and taste a simple ham and butter sandwich. It’s taste doesn’t compare to the saltiness of the sea water. In fact, it’s bland compared.

I ponder how to squeeze two months worth of goodbyes to my friends into such a short amount of time and the thought makes my eyes sting with unshed tears. Suddenly, the lunch isn’t so appealing.

My feet pad along the linoleum floors as I make my way to the shower. I turn on the hot tap and let the cold water soak my hand as I wait for it to heat up. Another breeze cradles my body and goosebumps rise on my arms. The water still wasn’t hot. It didn’t get hot at all.

After a few more minutes waiting, I stumble out of the cold bathroom and make my way out into the heat. My hair is almost dry and I can feel it curling just above my shoulders. I can hear someone mowing the grass, the faint buzz drifted up from the football pitch and drowned out the beautiful sounds of the sea. It seemed like it was all ending. Melancholy invaded my mind as I checked the gas tank. It was removed. Which meant no hot water.

I summoned up all of my courage and strode through the tough shards of rock again and made my way to the bathroom. The cold water was still running, a desperate hope for an ounce of heat. Still in my bikini, I dove under the shower head and cried out in surprise. The cold water, colder than the sea, sprayed down my body. I shook violently. I was becoming numb. Inside and out. Readying myself for the fatal blow of saying goodbye.

Soon, the cold water felt as if it was burning my skin and I switched off the water. My breaths came in quick gasps and I braced hand against the plastic door. After my breathing slowed, I moved out of the frigid air and wrapped the towel around my frame like a cocoon. I changed out of my bikini and into my casual Summer clothes. The thin fabric of my t-shirt hung loosely over my denim shorts. I moved out of the caravan after putting on a pair of plimsolls. I walked down the passageway beside my caravan. Sticks and thorns scratched across my legs but I couldn’t care less. The smell of freshly mowed grass filled the air and added a bittersweet feeling to the moment. I wasn’t ready for goodbyes yet, I had planned to but I couldn’t at that moment. So I walked.

I walked down the dark black tarmacadam track, small pebbles sticking into my shoes. The sound of the sea washed over me and felt like a soundtrack to my stroll. Bees and wasps buzzed around, collecting nectar from the vibrant orange flowers which were planted neatly on each side of the road.

Soon, I got to the end of the track beside the gate and the revolting smell of rotting rubbish attacked me like a small army, making my eyes sting.

As I turned to walk back to my caravan and ready myself for the final blow of leaving, a familiar car drove by me,’leaving in ten minutes!’My mother called out the window as she drove by. My heart dropped to my stomach and my tears were no longer from the putrid smell of rubbish.

My feet hit the tarmac hard as I ran quickly to my friend’s caravan, where everyone had amassed. My lungs burned and my calves ached when I arrived. I pulled open the door and told them about my departure. I was enveloped in warm bear-hugs from some of my closest friends, my heart breaking with every goodbye and every caring word. Some held on tighter than others and empty promises of gatherings were made. They had been made every year since we were all young and had never been pursued. Though, it had been different this time. Promises seemed more solid, words of kindness spoken seemed sincere and the situation became harder with every second spent dwelling.

I made my way back to my caravan, my walk slow and lethargic. When I arrived, I was handed bags to pack into the car. I sat in the back of the car, the black leather burned my skin as I sat. I put my headphones on and opened my window, breathing in the last bit of Summer.

The smell of the sea.

The crash of the waves.

The hot sun.

The clear skies.

The night sky.

Sand between my toes.

Endless memories.

Music played through my headphones as we drove down the track. Tears threatened to fall as we got nearer to the gate. We turned a corner and all of my friends were standing beside the large wood and metal structure. The tears fell as ‘Goodbye!’ was called loudly by them. I yelled it back and waved. We drove through the gates and I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

Tears were wiped.

Breaths were shuddered.

Goodbyes were still just as hard as they had always been.

Four photos of the beginning

Loreto Girls with JSS TYs in the Loreto Day School

Fareed waving to friendly passengers on the other side.

The gates to the Lee Memorial School where we stayed.

Arrival to the school in Jharkhali.

Creative Writing - Toms Story by Sophie

Toms story

It was dark. He didn't know how to get out. Its was a dead end. Tom could hear the dogs and could almost smell the en's hunger for revenge.

“Why did I do this?” tom whispered under his breath hoping that they wouldn't hear him. He didn't know how to escape. All that was surrounding him was dusty Grey trashcans overflowing with a stench that could kill a man if he got to close. He could see his heart pounding against his t-shirt, bright red blood splattered all over the crisp white cotton. He knew this was the end.

A loud crash woke him from a slumber that was lighter than a feather. Any shadow that passed across his face made him brace himself for the end of his life. He couldn't run away, they would find him. He couldn't go to them, they would end him. Suddenly Tom was brought back to his favorite place in the world. In his true loves arms. Lucy. She was perfect. She had long flowing hair that was as brown as melted dark chocolate. Then he was brought to the office that changed his life forever. The scan revealed it was a baby girl. He was going to have a daughter.

At once his memory turned black and all he could see was bags and bags of white powder. The white powder that was going to end his life. This white powder had a whole army of men coming after him with knives and guns.

“ What about my little girl?” thought Tom whilst tears rushed down his cheeks. He knew that saying that to those cold heated animals would mean nothing to them. Even the thought of his little girl growing up with her daddy not there to teach her how to ride a bike or to question every boy that walks through the house.

He knew that Lucy was waiting for his arrival. She would be waiting for him to walk through the door so that she could hold her in his arms. She couldn't wait to show him little Scarlet. …..

She was six months old she had her first tooth and has said Dada several times and he was there for none of that. The last time Tom saw his daughter she was merely a picture on a screen. He thought about all the nights he missed while Lucy had to tend to a crying baby. “Whilst Lucy was struggling with a teething baby I was out doing lines upon lines of cocaine that has ultimately wrecked my life” thought Tom as the guilt washed over his body like a tsunami wagging across a country wrecking lives.

“I have brought this upon myself, nobody else there is nobody else to blame and yet all I can think about is my next hit. I already have the dealers coming after me for money but what can I do I need the drugs so I steal them. I have stolen from everybody. My mother, my father and even Lucy. I am not fit to be in this world. I am everything that is wrong with this world!” Tom screamed this as if it was his last words. The tears just kept falling one going faster than the next. “In not fit to be a father!!!!! I do not deserve to have a wife and a daughter.

Tom then made a decision that wouldn't change his life, but end it. He walked up to the bridge where he met Lucy. This was the bridge that gave Tom hope. He thought that by meeting Lucy he could change his ways and start again. He climbed up to the edge of the bridge. He took a breath and in his head all that he was saying was “ I love you Scarlet , I love you Lucy. Love lasts forever. My love is no exception” Then with one last tear rolling down his face, he jumped.....

Kolkata Reflection - Fareed and Darragh

We really enjoyed the India trip and we thought it was amazing. Each place we stayed was completely different and held new experiences, some good and some bad like showering everyday with a bucket of cold ‘clean’ hand pumped water in Jharkhali and trying to sleep through the noise in Kolkata every night.   When we arrived in Kolkata many different characteristics of the city became obvious to me on the bus trip from the airport to Lee Memorial and during our explorations on the first day. Our senses were assaulted by new smells and sounds. On the first day Ajeeta, Rory, Chris and us went out into Kolkata city with Sean, Philip and Kate and subsequently got lost and wandered around identical looking streets for roughly 2 hours. The next few days we went on day trips around interesting parts of the city such as The Queen Victoria Memorial and New Market. Kolkata has a lot of negative characteristics such as the widespread poverty, the overcrowding and lack of space, the rubbish all over the streets, the noise pollution,  the stray dogs everywhere and the air was dirty and thick with smog which blotted out the sunlight but for me the positives outweighed the negatives. The sprawling street markets, the nice people, the river going through it, the cheap food, the city's very unique and distinctive character and the fact that Ajeeta and I (Fareed) got the nice comfy, springy beds while the other lads suffered on wooden beds.

Hannah's Blog; The Power Of Nature

                                    The Power Of Nature.

       It had a lush, green, open field. There were tall trees all around, and a waterfall. The waterfall rained down onto huge rocks, and created a beautiful river, which ran for miles. The sound of the water, with unreal power and force, smacking the rocks and splashing up was breathtaking! The green open space, drenched in sunlight, was quite a sight to behold. The trees, tall and proud surrounded this vast green space, but not enough to conceal the glorious sunlight.

      Suddenly, the serenity was lost. Tree after tree began to fall, a piercing sound accompanying the dreadful sight. The trees fell in different directions, some towards the green space, some away from it, and on top of the once tall and courageous, but now stripped of their power and beauty and fallen to the ground trees. The sound of the calming waterfall could no longer be heard, and the beautiful sight of it could not offer one moment of relief from the pain of what else was happening, just so close to, and not even affecting the beauty of this magnificent waterfall.

      The trees were running out. Only but a few were left to be terrorised by the unreal power of the ‘Death Machine’. The sirens began to wail, warning the others of the attack that was now imminent. The bombs from the overhead planes that had destroyed this once great, and wonderful piece of nature, had now passed, and were heading on to destroy some more life elsewhere. But one reminder of what once was, just a short matter of minutes ago, was the waterfall, the beautiful wonder of the wild that could withstand the power of war.

The first two pictures from our TEFL course in Bray. I look really weird in the first one (great timing there, Mr. Alex) and the third one is TY doing tai chi.