Thursday, December 30, 2010


Sea of People (The Party)*

[I was going to put a picture here, but all I found for parties were drunk girls and 1800's socials. I considered also including Native Americans in this post somehow someway, but I guess that will haveto wait until some other time. Enjoy]

The cold winter air, a steep hill, and a sniffy nose all prevented me from ascending the driveway that cold December evening, but not twenty seconds later I found myself facing the house on top of the hill, waving goodbye to my parents as they zoomed off. I was actually delighted that I hadn't asked my parents to drive me up- the view of several twentieth century-styled houses was a temptation I could not resist. Five minutes later, I found myself ringing the doorbell, cupcakes in hand. To my surprise, Ethan answered the door. He made some small, witty remark on how I was only getting in because I had brought food, but nonetheless he swung the door open and allowed me to scurry into the warmth of the piercingly-lit house. I was only ten minutes late from the time on the invitation, yet it seemed as though the party had not yet begun! Several people loitered in the living room and kitchen, but despite them, the house was, to my knowledge, empty. It was quite shocking, seeing as the party was put on for the many generations of the school's speech team. I first ran into my coach, Mr. McDaniel Senior (who everyone respectfully calls E-Mick, to alienate him from his son, D-Mick). We both exchanged hellos as he played the part of the gracious host and showed me where to hang my coat. Even though I was a silent part of the team, I still contributed enough to where I definitely was a factor to the success of the team.

When more of my teammates arrived, we all relocated to the basement, also known, that night, as the "ping-pong table" room. People broke up into their little groups, like we had at tournaments, in practices, and even sometimes in school. Even those teammates who were now in college still maintained to join their little cliques. Some things really never do change, I thought. I sat alone, just observing the ping-pong game and the groups as they all mingled separately. The party ensued like this, and I soon managed to join a smaller group of people, one of which I could call my quote-on-quote "best friend" on the speech team. Angela was sincerely a nice person, and she had a way with telling story that was beyond extraordinary. She just naturally weaved enjoyable stories out of thin air, like a witch would do magic. We had split further apart this year than the last two years we'd shared together. Earlier that year, she did something less-than-admirable at my expense, and that single thing made me feel extremely irritably for her for months. But that was months ago- at the party, I barely remembered why I was mad at her anymore, nor did I hold an empty grudge. No grudge, no hostile feelings- all I felt was a longing to fix a broken friendship.

After some well-spent socializing time had passed, the carnivorous teenagers began going upstairs in pursuit of food. I silently followed, hungry myself. I found myself in a sea of people, most of which I had never seen before in my life. My curiousity spiked when I saw all the older people not of my time- I feel sad, because our existences mean next to nothing to each other. I feel as though I missed out on an individual's total life, and can only comply with in and see those people and not even remember the next day those glimpses of their life I did witness.

The teenage teammates, by the time I had reached the table filled with food, had almost ravaged and abducted every last pizza (except for those saved by the adults- they had enough sense to remember what being a teenager was like). I hastily stuffed the last piece in my mouth, savoring the sweet tomato taste. Afterwards, we went into another room, where the freshmen girls and D-Mick and his friends were staying. I recognized all of his friends from his party two years ago (although I doubt they remember me) except for one. He was D-Mick's brother, who had been studying abroad in the freezing Northern region of the Netherlands. D-Mick had told several extraordinary stories about him, so it was impossible for me not to sneak glances at him. He was a reserved, quiet fellow, and had eyes like a madman. His eyes were a blue so deep, I could not even begin to consider what he was thinking, nor what kind of thoughts stirred in his mind. I was further intrigued, but the game we were playing suddenly ended. He retired to another room, and my Mom texted me, telling me she was parked at the end of the driveway. The party wasn't over, but I had no choice, so I hugged Angela goodbye, grabbed my coat, and slipped out the door without so much as a yell goodbye my way. I'd never felt more free as I did when I descended down the winding drive. The cold embraced me like an old friend.

*Note: First draft. :) It is a true story, but I changed some of the details up, just because I was considering submitting it to a contest, and if it were to ever get out, I would feel extremely weird putting peoples' real names and situations. I know I need to change my sentence structure because it sounds repetitive (it's naturally how I think- I tried to make it flow, at least), but whattaya think? :D

I'll leave you with this. CLICK.


Jenn said...

i really liked this story. i could picture it and it kept my attention the whole time which is hard to manage since i'm usually so distracted. so for what its worth, i loved it:)

Aoife. said...

I loved it!! I'd give an arm and leg to be able to write like you - it's brilliant!

Kay said...

"I feel sad, because our existences mean next to nothing to each other. I feel as though I missed out on an individual's total life, and can only comply with in and see those people and not even remember the next day those glimpses of their life I did witness."

I loved this. To the power of twenty seven.

You just explain everything so beautifully, it's wonderful.