Finding Her

Dear Diary,

I'm finally ready. Today is the day where I will leave behind everything I have ever known : my friends, my life... and my grandma. She has been ever so supportive of my desire to find my mother and she constantly tells me to follow my heart ; but I am worried about her. I was only at the tender age of three, when I was left on her doorstep, but she took me in and cared for me like her own child. There is a voice in my head that is telling me that I am doing the wrong thing , urging me, pleading me not to follow in my mother's footsteps. But I know that my mother is out there all alone, waiting for me to come and find her. And that is why Dear Diary, I have to embark on this journey , however tough it may be. So wish me luck! I shall update you tonight!

Dear Diary,

What a day! I cannot even begin to put it into words. Leaving grandma behind was the most heart-wrenching experience. As she enveloped me into her strong, welcoming arms for the last time, I could not stop the tears from forming. They stung, like the pricks of tiny pins, as they cruised down my face. Without a second glance, I turned away, picked up my singular suitcase, and began slowly trudging up the ramp into the ship. I paused at the entrance and took my last breath of island air. With a suitcase and my ticket to freedom gripped in both hands, I boarded the ship.

After locating my cabin and stowing away my suitcase, I endeavoured to peruse the entire ship. As I made my way into the heart of the ship, my pace slowed as I gawked -in awe- at the intricate detailing on the walls. My eyes devoured the scene before me: ravishing works of art, carefully etched into the mahogany wood. My fingers glossed over the ridges, as I continued down the hallway. After what felt like hours of traipsing down various hallways, I eventually found myself at a large , spiralling staircase, with a sign pronouncing that : ' THE ONLY WAY IS UP'. My interest piqued, I cautiously placed a foot on the first step and clutched at the metal railing. I gingerly clambered up the stairs and as I approached the top, my eyes widened before the breath- taking scene in front of me.

The deep, aquamarine blanket glistened and sparkled like diamonds as the waves creased the surface of the sea and lapped softly against the side of the boat. The sun fell like a sinking stone and a black cloak was drawn across the sky. There was no moon, only blazing stars, glittering like a diamond necklace, cascading out of the vault of heaven.

Oh Diary, I have been waiting for this trip nearly all my life, and the stark reality that i am finally living my dream has yet to hit. The thought of finally meeting my mother fills me with insurmountable excitement, but at the same time, I cannot help but feel the gnawing of anxiety. And so I leave you, to rest for the night and prepare myself for what tomorrow has to offer.

Dear Diary,

Where do I begin? So much has happened in the short time we have been apart that it's unbelievable. I did not get any sleep last night as the serene sea I had seen moments before I went to my cabin, became a monster, engulfing the ship in its claws. Masses of churning foam rose in an arch high above the boat and threatened to bury it in a watery grave. Ahead and below us it was dark. We were trapped by the black world of the deep, restless sea. The waves thundered nearer and nearer, broke into a roar of boiling foam and crashed into the ship like galloping foam horses. Inside my cabin, I huddled into my duvet covers and focused my thoughts away from the treachery outside. I thought of my grandma and reminisced of those happy years we had spent in our little cottage. I thought of my friends and the people who had been there for me my whole life, whom I had left behind. But amongst these melancholy thoughts, I told myself that finding my mother again would be the greatest triumph and my determination to succeed lulled me to sleep for a short time.

Chinks of light strayed into my room as I awoke and composed myself for the day ahead. The ship came to a standstill at the port and I nervously disembarked, with nothing but a dream and my suitcase. A coach lay waiting to take me and others to the town where my mother had last written from. I warily climbed on and found myself two empty seats towards the rear of the coach. The engine roared into life and I was whisked away, further from home, but hopefully closer to my mother. The journey was a blur of colours, dread and fatigue and I soon drifted back into sleep, making up for what I had lost the night before...

Dear Diary,

I feel empty. It has been two days since I last wrote to you and I only now finally feel the will to write to you. The coach journey came to an end quite rapidly, and I found myself at my destination. It was a ghost town of deserted houses crawling with mould and damp - empty shells with gaping windows like haunted eyes. Graffiti covered the walls. Rotting rubbish and broken glass lined the streets. Plastic bags flapped like streamers from trees and empty drink bottles rattled in the gutter. I felt a rush of anguish surge into my chest and throat, flooding my eyes with tears. She wasn't there. She had lied. She didn't want to find me. I pressed my quivering lips together to smother the sob that had welled up in my throat. What I felt at that moment is indescribable, Dear Diary, and now that I have found temporary shelter, I feel hopeless. I do not know what the future holds for me and I feel overwhelmed with loneliness. The only person I can talk to, is you, Dear Diary.

Farewell,

Eloise