A Journey

      I start to walk, on the pebbled ground. Trees pass my sight and glare at me as though I am something evil. The cold air touches my face and howls in my ear. "When will my journey be over?" I ask myself. I continue to walk forwards, refusing to look the way I came. Straight on, I go. I kick stones into the muddied grass and look down at my shoes. They are weathered away, scratched and bruised. I can hardly tell their color. The shoes hang by a single thread. I look to my side. Houses on my left and right, old and seeming abandoned. The place looks like a ghost town. I take notice of my backpack clinging to my side, sitting on my shoulder. It feels like a ton at the moment. My hair whooshes around my face, spinning in the wind. Through the cloud of hair I see my destination. My knees feel weak and my legs could give at any second but they remain below my waist, still and steadily walking. I cross the road thinking, "What will people think of me? A girl, in this place, with tattered clothes and messy hair with a year old backpack on her side." Yet, I press on. I am getting closer, the destination approaching. Up I walk, the gravel pathway. Out I reach my hand until it clasps the metal handle, I clench down and push. The door swings open and I feel the warm air blow onto my face. The journey is done. Until tomorrow.

Jeez, the walk home from my bus stop can be really hard sometimes.