Shells

“Mummy, look what I found!” the little girl grinned as she showed her mum a shell she had found on the beach; it was creamy white with pale, faded lines of yellowy orange. Her mother smiled and glanced up from the book she was reading as the young child showed her all the details of this shell that had been dragged onto the beach by the sea. Like thousands of other shells, what made this shell so special no one knew, but as soon as the shell caught her eye she couldn’t let it go.

“Do you know what happens when you put a shell to your ear?” the mother asked the little girl.

“No?” the little girl’s face turned to confusion, as she tried to work out what would happen if she put the shell up to her ear. The mother took the shell out of the little girls hand and put it up to the little girl’s tiny ear. She looked up at her mother with the same look of confusion.

“Listen,” her mother told her. She was silent for a few seconds, and her face lit up with joy. “Can you hear the sea?” The little girl nodded, taking the shell from her mother’s hand and sitting down cross legged on the floor, listening intently to the sound of the sea.

She looked up again at her mother, she was puzzled “But mummy, how can something so big fit into something so little?”

“Magic,” the little girls face lit up as she looked down at her magical shell. She never realized something so amazing, could come from something so small.

-

I sat cross legged on my bedroom floor, just like I had done when I was a kid. My room was pretty much empty now, except for 5 cardboard boxes filled with the stuff I had collected in my 15 years of life. I pondered how my life could fit into so little boxes.

The one thing I hadn’t packed yet was my photo album which lay open in front of me and I felt tears roll down my eyes. It was a picture of me, when I was 4 years old. It was the day I found my shell, my special little shell that no matter how old I grew I could not get rid of.

“Alice? Are you ready?” a middle aged woman popped her head through my door, she didn’t knock. I quickly wiped away the tear forming in my eye.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I sighed in reply to the woman. She was my social worker, her name was Sarah. She was kind, I suppose. She didn’t have a very good fashion sense though, always dressed in one of those suits. The ones that high powered executives wore, it was grey and made her pale skin look even more translucent. She had brown hair that had a few strands of silver and she always wore it up in a high bun or ponytail. If you saw her walking down the street you’d never be able to guess she was a social worker.

“It really is a lovely home, Alice. I’m sure you’ll love it,” she told me as she picked up one of my life filled boxes.

“I love it here,” I sighed; I could feel my eyes burn as more tears threatened to escape from my eyes. I never cried in front of people.

We carried my measly 5 boxes into the back of her car. She smiled as she shut the boot and dusted off her hands. I looked up at my childhood house one more time taking in every single detail, every single memory. I felt my eyes well up and I couldn’t help but let them slip. I was losing everything I had ever loved. We got into the car; I sat in the back and put my ipod on. I didn’t want to talk. I knew that if I opened my mouth only sobs would come out. As we drove through the familiar surroundings I watched it all disappear.

We pulled up into a long drive way in front of a huge Victorian style house. It was pretty on the outside, but I could only imagine what it was like on the inside. I was told about 25 children and teenagers were living there, I guessed inside it would be really messy. I knew I was going to hate it there.

A young man opened the door to us, his name was Stuart, he greeted us with a jolly ‘Hello’ and a let us in. He gave me a tour around the large house, it was surprisingly quite nice, it wasn’t as messy as I expected but it was defiantly lived in. It had potential to be homey, but I knew where my home was and it certainly wasn’t here.

He introduced me to the others. There was only one other 15 year old, named Jessica. She seemed happy when she found out we were the same age, I guess living with so many people younger than you would make you want more friends of your own age. I was informed that I would be sharing a room with her, up on the second floor. Stuart left me and Jessica to get acquainted and to show me my new room. Jessica was a chatty girl, unlike me, I barely ever spoke nowadays. I think my chatty side got lost somewhere along the way. I couldn’t remember what it was like to have a full blown conversation and it not feel awkward.

She took me up the stairs and showed me our room, it was yellow and Jessica had stuck up posters of her favourite bands and pictures of (I was guessing) her and her friends. It seemed nice enough, but I knew it was going to be hard adjusting to sharing a room, something of which I had never endured.

The day past by so slowly and I couldn’t wait for it to finish, I was fed up of meeting new people. I hated having to adjust to new surroundings. Most of all I hated not feeling like myself. I went to bed as early as I could. I lay there just staring at the paint pattern on the wall. The paint had been chipped at and needed to be repainted. I could vaguely make out a crescent moon in the wall; I felt a tear slip down my cheek. My mother always used to say if something would ever happen to her and she went away, that the moon would look down on me and it would guide me. She would be there, sitting on top watching.

Jessica went to bed not much later than me, I waited until I knew she was asleep. I heard her snore loudly and it removed any chance of me being able to sleep. But it didn’t matter because I was leaving. I’d been planning it all day; I was going to make my escape through the front door. And if I got caught I’d just pretend I was sleepwalking, I heard that happened to a lot of people after they’ve been through a traumatic ordeal...

I never bothered to get changed into my pyjamas when I went to bed, so all I had to do was creep out of the room without waking up Jessica. I grabbed my bag from my bed, and slowly and silently tip toed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me. I heard Jessica stir inside the room. I paused just listening for a second to see if I had woken her. I heard a small snore escape from her mouth so I continued to tip toe towards the stairs.

I crept down the stairs and on the second to last step I heard it make an awfully loud creak, I hesitated. Worried I would get caught, but nobody came, I guess no one heard. I quickly went over to the door, unlocking it and stepping out into the cold midnight air. And that was it, I’d escaped.

-

I ran and ran until I couldn’t run no more, it felt like my legs were about to collapse beneath me. My heart was racing and I could barely breathe. I continued to run through the trees, I could hear the sea; I could almost taste the salt on my tongue. I was so close I could practically feel the sand beneath my toes. I could see the entrance, I was nearly there. I pushed myself further and further. I had to make it. I needed to get to the beach.

And as I came closer to the entrance, I looked out to the sea. I saw a little lighthouse shining its light across the vast ocean, I watched as the light flickered from place to place as I slowly got my breath back. The beach was different at night. It changed as the days turned to nights, and the nights turned to days. It was calmer, peaceful even. A place where I could gather my thoughts with no interruptions.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my shell, I looked at the faded yellowy orange lines and pressed it against my ear. I listened to the sea and I remembered who I was.

I was just a little girl who got lost in the change.