Your Light In My Darkness

As C.S Lewis said, "You can make anything by writing." And it's true, a simple quote that inspired millions across the globe. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe being his most famous work of art, that's still even famous today.

. . .

Writing is full of words. Words are full of emotion. Emotion is full of love. When you read a story, you feel anger, sadness, and happiness. Whether it's a romance, a fantasy or a mystery you feel connected. And all it is, is words. Words are the most powerful thing on earth, and stories make that fact come to life. My name is Elena, and this is my story.

Darkness has surrounded me my whole life after my father died. I felt locked in a cage that I couldn't escape, even when I had the whole world open to me. When I was little, my mother bought me a journal to keep my thoughts and prayers in. It was bright pink, and it had my name written in it in black lettering. Mother always said that she loved writing, but I have never felt an interest for it. Each day she told me all the interesting things she wrote in her journal when she was a little girl, but I never listened to her. She told me about her diaries as a teenager, and all her doodles when she was seven. She even told me about her darkest secrets. Constanza was her name. Even though her name was French, she felt that is sounded like it had some Spanish heritage. Well that's what her parents thought anyway.

I just started a new school year a couple of months ago, and there was a worldwide writing competition that all 9th graders had to participate in. My head was drowning in thoughts, and my body felt heavy. My eyes were as droopy as a dead rose, and I couldn't think straight-even just for a second. Mother tried to help me by giving me ideas, but I just pushed and pushed her away until she finally stopped. I felt ignorant and useless and didn't know what to do with myself. I though fits and threw my anger on mother, even when she was only trying to help me. She ended up bringing me to my grandmother in Florida, where I could live with her. I told her no multiple times, but she just ignored me. She handed me my bags and said to me in a soft voice, "You can make anything by writing." And those was the last words she ever said to me. Each day those words echoed in my mind. I did some research on it-because it sounded like a quote- and it was in fact said by C.S Lewis (mothers favorite author). Flashbacks surrounded my mind. I was in mothers room. She was reading Mere Christianity with her black glasses. The sweet smell of green tea filled my nose, as she sipped her "Mom" mug quietly.

"Mother? Please come back, I miss you." I quivered.

No one answered. I suddenly realized that I was back in my room staring at my Apple Computer. A waterfall of tears ran down my face. I cried for hours, and hours that night. My eyes were bright red, and swollen by midnight. I missed mother, but I knew she didn't miss me. She was probably glad I wasn't with her. She was probably out partying with her friends, Pablo and Lucia listening to Despacito not thinking about me at all. She's probably just thinking how amazing it is to not be with me. More and more anger empowered my mind, and I suddenly through my chair and smashed it on the carpet. I screamed.

. . .

The next morning I awoke from a sparkle in my brain. My thoughts were powerful, and brought sunshine to my attitude. It was as if a light bulb has switched my mindset. I sprang out of bed, and jumped to my computer. I opened Google Docs and started writing and writing and writing, I couldn't stop, even when I told myself to. My fingers couldn't stop moving, and by the end of the day I had written 103 pages worth of my emotions between me and my mother. When I stopped writing, my mind was blown. I had just written 103 pages. A few days ago I could barely write one. I showed my novel to my grandmother, and she was impressed. She said she loved my descriptive detailing, and emotion. A small tear shed from her eye. A few days later I revised my work and turned it in to the competition. Each day I waited. And waited. And waited. Whenever the phone rang, I dashed to the phone to see who it was, but it was always just my friends or a spam call. All I wanted in life as each day went by was that one call. That one call when I got the news that I placed in the top 100. I had very minor hopes for coming in the top 100, but a finally a few weeks later I got the news from the competition that I placed in 3rd place out of thousands. My heart raced, and my smile grew big. My body shook with excitement, and I couldn't stop thinking that I did it. And it was all just because of what my mother said to me. "You can make anything by writing."

A few months later I arrived in Massachusetts to receive my award. Me and my grandmother stayed in a farm styled hotel, and the bathroom had so many shampoo samples, I used all 4 bottles in one shower. That night I slept happily awaiting to the next day to come quicker. I dreamed of the judges announcing me to come to the podium, and one of the judges handing me my medal. The judge bent down to put the medal around my neck, and when she looked up I realized it was my mother. I never woke up from the dream.