The Crystal Diary by Me (people reading books TXT) 📕

The Crystal Diary

By Sarah Plowman


11/08


Chapter 1
My Worst Realty


My eyes felt as if they had been locked shut with a missing key. Reality seemed to be fantasy, and fantasy seemed to be reality. I felt nothing at all like a princess whom had been put under a sleeping spell by a wicked witch. A sensation that I felt my bed sheets delighted me. Then memory of where I was, and what had happened began to return. I forced my eyes open and tried to clear my vision. Smoke encircled my head trying to lull me back into unconsciousness. Before me lay the twin towers burning with multi-colored flames. Particles of charred wall and floor lay everywhere, constant shouting and screaming echoed New York City.

A sight more horrible could only be composed by the devil himself. I realized that I was lying on hot asphalt with a slice of crumbling wall covering my legs. After three failed attempts to push the piece of building off my aching body, I gave up and pushed myself into a sitting position with my hands. I gasped at the sight before me: there a few feet away lay my mother, her eyes shut tight. Her black hair was stained with scarlet and I knew in a moment she was dead.

“ NO!” I screamed at the smoke filled sky. I wished, I prayed with all my might that soon I would drop dead with my mother. I saw a fireman move closer to my “almost grave”. My wanting to die began to dissolve in the unbearable pain that was beginning to form in my legs. I had to scream out to him at least twice before he heard me over the commotion in the streets.

He came running with one other yellow uniformed man, they yanked the piece of wall off the remainders of my legs. One scooped me into his arms while the other rolled my mother’s body up in a heavy blanket.

An ambulance arrived with a herd of paramedics that asked me question after question. One slender man brought out a stretcher much to the delight of my holder. I nearly cried out as the fireman placed me on the rolling bed. Interested, one paramedic asked me what was wrong.

“My legs, they feel like they’re on fire.” I gasped barely restraining tears. The man took off his gloves and felt my legs while another held my hand to help me not to scream.

“Her legs are shattered,” He reported to one of his companions. Then turning toward me he resumed his question asking. “What’s your name?”

“Gwen Oxford.”

“What are your parents’ work phone numbers?”

“My…my mom has been killed, her body was just rolled up and loaded up into that truck ” I tried not to cry. “My dad disappeared right after I was born.”

“Well then, who can I call to take custody of you after the hospital releases you?”

“Ms. Tustin, my mom’s best friend, she lives with us, ” I explained and gave him our phone number.

The paramedics finally loaded me inside and the ambulance speed away. I sat up straight; tears rolling down my cheeks, a lady behind me took a rubber band from her wrist and began to play with my hair. She took my long blond hair and made a fake hair bun. I saw a man begin to prepare an IV.

“ Why are you giving her the IV, Luke?” The paramedic hairstylist demanded. “She isn’t sick, she just broke her legs.”

“You aren’t in charge of her; I am,” the IV lover retorted. I sighed and the argument lasted until we arrived at the hospital. Finally it was decided that I didn’t need an IV and the IV lover stomped sulkily out of the side door. The back doors were opened and the daylight was bright after the darkness of the interior of the ambulance.

Chapter 2
Crushed Legs, Shattered Heart

After being wheeled through a maze of identical rooms the hairstylist/paramedic finally came to a room that was empty. She seemed to understand that I needed to be alone, and wheeled me to the window to spare me the horrid hospital riff-raff. She flashed me a sympathetic look as she walked out the door.

After waiting to make sure that no professional staff would walk inside to cheer me up I let the blockade I had always kept on my feelings down. Tears ran freely down my cheeks and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. I covered my face with my hands and shook with wet grief. How could I live a life without my mom? She was my life; we were all each other had. My tears stopped and they were replaced by anger and resentment.

“And yes, Dad,” I muttered, “this is your cue to run in and throw yourself at my feet and beg my forgiveness for abandoning mom and I, thirteen years ago! This is your cue to sit down by my bed and take me in your arms and dry my tears like a father is supposed to do.” I gazed around the snow white room trying to find something interesting to stare at. I stared out the window overlooking the town. The window showed my reflection in front of me. It revealed a pair of forest green eyes, tangled corn blonde hair, and a triangular shaped face of pale skin.

“Gwen! Where is she? Don’t tell me to ‘shhhhhh’ tell me where she is!” I felt a little less depressed when I heard Thelma Tustin in the hall. She had always lived with mom and I ever since I can remember. When Thelma’s business had failed she lost everything, and since our house had the extra space, mom insisted that she move right in with us. Thelma treated me like an equal and we were as close as sisters. She had never learned to hide her emotions, and was incredibly blunt in a funny kind of way.

“Gwen darling,” Thelma panted,” thank God you ‘re alive!” She kissed me on both cheeks as if to assure herself that I was truly there. I reached out and grabbed her hand feebly.

“ Gwen,” Thelma whispered looking into my eyes with tears forming in her own. “I know that I will never be able to replace your mom; and I know your mom will roll