{"id":1793,"date":"2023-05-01T13:01:12","date_gmt":"2023-05-01T13:01:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/?p=1793"},"modified":"2023-05-08T13:51:12","modified_gmt":"2023-05-08T13:51:12","slug":"good-morning-theresa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/?p=1793","title":{"rendered":"Narrative: “Good Morning, Theresa.”"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

By: Aditya Dharmawerndra Barki, Secondary 2<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Unsplash (2014). Beach images & pictures [photograph]. Retrieved from: https:\/\/unsplash.com\/@grafixgurl247<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Theresa watches as the train doors slide open, ushering her inside. Without hesitation, she steps in, her expressionless face reflecting on the glass windows. The train departs the station, gently swaying her body as it rushes through the city to its next, and last destination of the day. Her eyes get heavier by the second as the familiar scenery flows past her outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026Thank you. Goodbye.\u201d, was part of a letter that she left on her desk before diverting from the path that leads to her home. The same tears she stared at dripping on and off of her phone screen were the same tears she noticed in that letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An orange hue glows by the sun just over the horizon crushed by a violet sky, as amber glitters Theresa\u2019s face. Today will be the final day, she thinks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Who knows how nobody saw her by herself still in her school uniform? Who knows where this one-way ticket will lead her, all she knows is that she yearns to not see another day. There isn\u2019t any other way to go, no one would care anyway. It would soon be just her and the sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through the window of the train, a glistening blue of the dancing waves under a navy blue sky, embroidered with little stars, awaits her. A sudden, almost uncontrollable impulse shoves her out of the train and guides her down toward the beckoning shore. The subtle whisper of the ocean calls for Theresa as she runs down the beach behind an abandoned seaside town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not a single soul is present, just as she wants it to be. The shore\u2019s waves flood in and out of the beach while her shoes crunch with moist sand. Nothing is stopping her now. Assuming to simply leave her body floating on the water\u2019s surface, she ambles into the misty liquid and tarnishes her socks. Detached seaweed tickles her ankles as she is knee-deep in salt water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Out of the blue, a girl\u2019s voice is heard behind her, \u201cWhat are you doing over there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her time of silence is interrupted interrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wanted to go swimming,\u201d she mutters, petrified, though the young lady knows this is no devilment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIsn’t it a bit late now?\u201d the benign girl says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theresa turns around to see a shining dress waving through the humid, sea air, wrapped neatly around a pale skin and a pleasant smile. Under the moonlight, her bluish bare feet sit on the rigid concrete. She looks to be roughly the same age as Theresa’s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI always go swimming at this time of day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s dangerous to go out swimming with no one looking after you, especially at high tide.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theresa\u2019s face is smeared with annoyance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you come up here, you\u2019re going to catch a cold.\u201d the girl proposes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something stands out to Theresa about her, the tone of speech, her face, it weaves into her cold soul. In a rushed trudge, her feet arise from the sand clouds underneath the water\u2019s surface and drip onto the damp sand. Her face blank and her voice soft, Theresa walks up the beach with her back upright to the concrete floor. They look at each other before the girl asks, \u201cMay I know your name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a weary, stuttering voice, \u201cTheresa\u201d she replies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNice name you have, Theresa. My name is Emma.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A red and yellow box catches her eye when it appears out behind her white dress. Emma squats down while opening the box of sparkler fireworks in front of the bewildered Theresa. \u201cI don\u2019t have a lighter with me, do you think you have one?\u201d she says with a frown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Glancing from a unicorn plush, a bouquet, a hearted envelope, and a single lonely firework left aside from the foot of a flight of steps in the distance, Theresa sits next to Emma while rummaging through her backpack. Handing the red lighter, Emma ignites the wax candle she just pasted on a cinder block. She uses her right hand as a windshield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s light them together.\u201d Emma offers with a sparkler in hand. Theresa chuckles; a light lit up from within, \u201cWhy not.\u201d But unfortunately, It isn\u2019t long till the humid air starts casting around them, and several sparklers end up being tossed behind them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sparkler after sparkler, the box runs closer to being empty. A pile of duds begins to accumulate on the rock and both of the girls’ enthusiasm begin to fade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy were you here in that cold water? Now your socks are drenched\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026What\u2019s the matter, Theresa?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Looking down at the candle, Emma gives a precise guess which triggers Theresa’s heart to skip a beat with a sinking feeling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emma\u2019s brunette eyes grow larger and her eyebrows wrinkle in a serious and stern expression.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do that, Theresa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A brief pause lingers before a fizzing sound materialises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy firework!\u201d Theresa blurts out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a flash, a bright light echoes off the candle. Sparks fly off while disappearing into the sand and a sharp sizzling sound resonates. A gleaming orange light fulgurates the tip of the candle. \u201cIt\u2019s lit!\u201d they both exclaim in unison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theresa stands up involuntarily and waves the firework around in the sky. It spews the ball of light while gradually descending the metal rod. The sparks fall like a meteor shower as they rain down under the shimmering navy blue. The reflective image mirrors both of the girls’ pupils.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not even being able to completely comprehend what is exactly happening, the yellowish-white light gradually dissipates. Theresa tried desperately to chase the light down to its final sparks, reminded about the final rays of the sun penetrating the glass of the train cart window just some hours ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you remember me now, Theresa?\u201d Emma said with a warm smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A new feeling of reminiscence and nostalgia erupt through Theresa. New tears slide down her cheeks as she is brought back several years into the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy best friend, Emma.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m glad to have seen you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m glad you remember me,\u201d Emma remarks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The water rushes higher up the shore; it is a full moon. Theresa\u2019s bag is sitting on a small bulge of sand off the side of the concrete until the harsh winds pick it off balance and slides it into the water. None of the girls notices as the bag is carried farther and farther away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour bag!\u201d Emma shouts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without hesitation, Theresa runs into the sea and splashes under the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTheresa!\u201d yells Emma.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sea grows more cavernous than it was before, Theresa swims deeper and deeper into the dim and desolate sea. Just as she is about to lose her breath, Emma, with a resolute look in her eye, appears behind her from the moonlight originating from the surface and tackles her, before wrestling her weight up. They both watch while Emma swims skyward, Theresa\u2019s bag disappearing into the inky abyss below while disintegrating. It rips open, ejecting its contents out including soiled papers and books, stationary, and perhaps even several razor-sharp objects, all disappearing into a yellow light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theresa coughs the water up before curling to cover her nose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wonder if this is all a dream, she thinks. I wonder if you\u2019d disappear somewhere again by the end of the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The two girls sit on the shore, as Emma repeatedly asks for Theresa\u2019s well-being. \u201cI\u2019m alright\u2026 thank you for saving me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI just can\u2019t have you leave me again, can\u2019t I?\u201d Emma says while wiping her tears away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, of course not.\u201d she chuckles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slipping off of consciousness from the day, Theresa drops onto the moist sand exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let\u2019s meet tomorrow morning. Before drifting off to slumber.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The morning light peeks through the clouds. Theresa awakes to seagulls gliding in the air in groups and hermit crabs scuttling across the sand, out on the forage for any discarded edible bits. Her bag still sits on that same sand bulge untouched which makes her question whether last night was a dream or not. She takes a good few seconds getting up and walking around the shore but there is no sign of Emma, other than the few burnt and used sparkler fireworks that lay on the concrete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she inspects the area further, the unicorn plush at the bottom corner of those steps, catches her eye and right then and there, she hears a voice from behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood morning, Theresa.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By: Aditya Dharmawerndra Barki, Secondary 2 Theresa watches as the train doors slide open, ushering her inside. Without hesitation, she steps in, her expressionless face reflecting on the glass windows. The train departs the station, gently swaying her body as it rushes through the city to its next, and last destination of the day. Her […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1792,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":true,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false},"categories":[5,18],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1793"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1815,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793\/revisions\/1815"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1792"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/quill.binabangsaschool.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}