Our Tragedies: Ivy

A Story by Casey

The introduction of the character Ivy

Ivy: I watch the stolen sunlight escaping our tragedies, our whims, and our self-caused fears, leaving me and the royal blue waves to face them alone. The icy liquid begins to hum, resulting in chills of shock running through my system and capturing my shallow breath. Maybe I’m naïve for letting it come anywhere close to me and giving my torn thoughts away to its non-responding life. But that’s exactly what I seek; judgeless and real, no comforting words or fake smiles materialize from the quiet ocean. It leaves to me only a clean slate to paint my sorrows on, and the water to rise up and wash them away. I’ve been tempted. Tempted to lose myself and give in to its calls. But I’m not quite ready to let go… or maybe I’m just scared of the result that will come crashing through to me in the daunting end. Will I be aware of the near frozen water carrying my useless body whichever way the wind may decide to blow? Or will everything stop, time and life leaving me for good? And as I begin to let myself go numb, these questions parade into my head, resulting in enough determination to drag myself out of the cool blue and pace slowly towards my house.

Home is a fragile word used all too commonly as a fallback, something to assure to others and a little to yourself that you have security, somewhere you belong. “Home is where the heart is”, well my heart certainly doesn’t live at my house or anywhere near it for that matter. It’s lost somewhere out there just waiting to be found. So maybe home is just a word a little too close to love; looking to be over used and abused by any up for the shortcut. Your house doesn’t have to be a troubled place to lose the trust of your heart, as it could be full of nothing but affection with an open invitation to be anything you aspire to be… it could be just like mine: a sweet family with happily married parents and the perfect sister. So why in the world wouldn’t your heart walk straight through the door, plop down on the couch, and stay there? Well maybe for me it’s just a little too perfect, and my heart strains to be anything but that. So the fresh baked cake and the honeydew candles just remind me I don’t belong there. Not in my house, my town, my state… hell, even this world. But my broken soul? Well that’s for me to know about and to trick everyone else into seeing me as another perfect piece to fit into this twisted puzzle. It’s become a little too easy for me since I started displaying my fake smile and making sure my hair is always neatly brushed. And with enough practice I’ll get myself to the point where no one will ever be able to break through, not that anyone has tried. So many of us just wish to be saved, well consider me as an exception. I know it may sound strange but letting someone try and fix me seems like it would just hurt me worse. Because fact is, I have no idea what needs to be fixed.

After I scrape my feet on the clean welcome mat and accomplish my normal goal of staining it with a mixture of sand and mud, I turn the silver door knob and step inside. Running lightly up the steps and down the hall I manage to get into my room before anyone notices my late arrival. Mom and dad normally aren’t terribly strict on the matter but my soaking wet clothes may lead to some questioning. The sound of my sister’s piano playing and the smell of salmon is pushed away from me with the quiet shutting of my door. My room is the only messy one in the entire house with books scattered across my floor, an unmade bed, and my shoes thrown messily into my closet. I have nice clothes though since mom insists. My daughter will wear only the best attire, for that’s what she is. Ha. Don’t get me wrong I adore my parents but a mutual required love, in my opinion isn’t real. Besides, love is a complicated concept as everyone already knows. But I believe it’s something, like happiness, you must never stop pursuing. Something you have to work for and at the end, gamble everything you have. So my question is, is it really worth it?