Nothing Ever Lasts Forver

Mama and I drove back to England, and life felt better than ever. “Mama, can we please bake some of your pecan pie?” I still devoured her pecan pie, and it was more comforting than ever. Dad finally got rid of Angela, and Mama and him had the best reunion. Four months after I got back, Grandma passed away. Grandma was exhilarated to see Mama again, but sadly, her cancer killed her. It was quite a gruesome death, actually. The doctors tried to save her, but her heart gave out. Today is a new day, a day full of sunflowers. Today, we’re going to the flower picking patch we visited so many years ago. The place was only down the road, lucky for us with our beat up green van. We arrived, and just has I had seen so many years ago, I found the sunflowers. Mama, just as she had so many years ago, leapt through the sections and stopped us at the spot we’d been at so many years ago. She smiled. “Nature is meant to be left alone, and the newly fallen ones really look and smell the same. She picked a fallen one just as she had years before, and smelled it. She handed it to me and I took a big sniff. It smells.. comforting. It smells just how it had so many long years ago.

I hear birds chirping. I hear leaves rustling. I hear water rushing. I smell the fresh, salty air. I open my eyes and remember my dream. Still half asleep, I open my eyes. Although everything is a bit blurry, I manage to make out leaves of a tree above my head. I then remember my dream about Mama. That was crazy! Maybe I really will get some of her delicious pie. I go to sit up, but I scrape my knee on a hard, grayish rock. I see blood gush. I panic as blood streams down my leg. As I struggle to stop the blood, I look around. I go to throw the rock that just cut me, but I soon realize that it isn’t any regular rock. It’s huge, and it has something engraved on it. I look at it, and I soon realize that it says, “Dawn Lesley, 1989. Mother, daughter, wife, sister. Loved by all.” What? This has to be some joke. Mama isn’t dead! I-I remember the dream! And I’ll go inside and see her. And then I remember. Mama died of a chronic heart condition last year. I hug her grave goodbye and I run to Elm, droplets of sadness gushing out of my eyes.

I know it's too late as slowly, my eyes flutter, everything is blurry. I know I'm gone. I know it's too late. I didn't actually want to die. I just wanted to be with Mama. After that I think I passed out, but nobody was really on the mountains at seven in the morning, so nobody called authorities until it was too late. But, now, I'm with Mama. Everyone else has to suffer. I wish I hadn't left dad. Elm doesn't have any more friends.. Blue doesn't have a best friend anymore. All because of me. As I feel myself float upwards towards the stars, one particular word rings in my mind. "Checkmate."

"It's like eating a bowl of giggly soup!" - Kori Sudbury

”Filled with chaos!” - Caydence Binion

"It's good, but not minion good," - Katya Pistsova

“Good morning, Blue bird!” When we were younger I’d call him blue bird because anything that truly meant something to you just had to have a cute little name. I felt terrible. How had Elm kept this from me? He’d acted so happy throughout the visit! Once again, he flashed a little smile at the nickname. That always brought us up. Once again, an attendant came over to our seating section and motioned to her pad. “Erm, two pieces of toast. With marmalade. And eggs, please.” She wrote it all down and walked away. I thought of things to do. Even after thirteen minutes of thinking, still there was nothing to do but wait. The lady that took my order returned. This was the last I would see of her. I ate in silence, Elm’s company soon becoming awkward. My eyelids are heavy, my face droops. My eyebrows sag, and my body aches. This journey is depressing both Elm and I. I look out the window and wait. This whole journey is a big waiting game. Constant waiting all the time. My emotionless eyelids staring out the window. Elm mirrors my emotions. The somber news of Acacia is thundering over us. 

I drift off again. It seems that is the only thing to do except for waiting and looking out the window. “Get out! Get out of my house! Leave and don’t come back!” I hear glass break, and my mother screaming. “Mama!” I sound younger, more scared. Then I hear, “She’s gone! She’s gone, Dawn! Please come back! Dawn!” I see blood. “Dawn… I didn’t mean to…..” I wake up in a cold sweat. I hadn’t had a nightmare like this in a while.

“Faye…She isn’t in the house.” I myself began to sob. Minutes, hours, days, weeks. It was an empty pit consuming me and my father whole. I had absolutely no idea what was happening, other than the obvious fact that mama was just gone. Now, once again, I have nobody. Now, more than usual, I spent my days sulking in my room. Seven years later and here I am. I still want her back. More than anything. However, I really do not believe that she is dead. Not Mama. She wouldn’t just disappear like that. My father would have actually done more than lay around and sulk.

  I don’t believe she’d leave us like that. Unless she’d want to start a new life with my brother, (who wasn’t even born) then she wouldn’t have just left. But we did have a name. Koa. Koala as a nickname, I’d decided. However, if she had left, it would be my father who was hiding secrets. He knows what is best for me. It was about time to visit my grandmother. My stomach churned as I know quite well that I’m going to learn something. I strolled down the streets. Empty yet alive with people. Shops all down that grey brick street. Performers singing, dogs barking, soon another winter withering away as the eighth year without my mother. I strolled through a park. It hurt to see all of the other children with their comforting mothers. I’ve got hope for mama. She wouldn’t just “disappear.” 

“Well, I know it’s been 7 years and all, but I still ponder at the thought.” She was seemingly perplexed. “Ponder at the thought of what?” she questioned. “Umm. Mama. Why is she just...gone?" I prayed for a hopeful response. “Oh, Dawn, how I miss you,” She looked up at the sky as the whispered this. ”Your mama...Faye, I admire your attention span. Although I also do anticipate something is not how it seems, I must ask, what are you hinting to? It is extremely hard to comprehend the death of an admirable person, but I don’t want your hopes up,” “She’s not dead!” I shouted this louder than an eagle’s screech. Tears streaming down my face, I bolted for the door, suddenly halted to a stop. A familiar face came towards the front door, carefully stepping up the concrete stairs, careful not to let gravity win. ”Elm?” I was shocked. Elm lived hours away. He pulled me in for a warm embrace. A wave of nostalgia hits me like a broken glass bottle.

Elm wipes my fading tears. “Why are you crying?” Instead of answering, I take him outside. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” Tears flowing back into my eyes, he gazed into my eyes with an enormous smile spreading across his delighted face. “I flew here from New York. I rushed to your cottage, but nobody answered. I figured I should come here instead,” “Thank you for coming. I needed you today. Gwen ditched me like, 2 years ago, so you’re kind of a last resort.” He gave me a weird stare. “Alright…” he mumbled. “Anyways..” His face became delighted once again. “Is Tea Tree Palace still I open?” A sullen look spread across my face like the Tea Tree Palace employees when they’d spread their homemade marmalade on top of their freshly baked bread. “No, it closed 8 months ago,” I somberly mumbled. Mama and I would go over every other Sunday morning, being sure to be there at 10:18 AM exactly. After I’d finally stopped missing her every second of ever day, it closed. All the memories of Mama, flushed down the toilet.

As if he knew what I was thinking, his eyebrows crumpled, like all the faces of pity when people first heard she left. “That sucks. Is there anywhere else we could go?” I pondered for a moment. “I guess there’s always Crumpets and Crepes on Second Street.” He quickly gave me a small smile and nodded. I counted my steps as we walked.

“Crumpets and Crepes,” the sign read. As we stepped in, the sweet smell of coffee and cakes gently blew towards us. We sat down at a two seated table. An employee, “Eleanor,” her name tag read smiled at us, handing us menus. “What would you birdies like to dine on this fine morning?” Elm and I shared a quick glance, a note of agreement. “What types of tea do you have?” I shyly asked. “Oolong, green, chai, chamomile, mango, rooibos, you name it!” I quickly responded, “Is it possible to get a combo of teas? Like maybe a green and mango combo?” She surprisingly grinned. “My favorite! Typically we don’t sell this, but it seems this is a classic for you, so I’d be glad to. So green mango combo, what else?” “A chamomile tea and two raspberry scones, please. Thanks!” She wrote it all down and pranced away.

The next morning was dreadful. I was abruptly woken at four in the morning because of the horn someone stupidly pulled as a joke. Our venture had already started off lovely. I ordered two bowls of hot cereal, and surprisingly, it wasn't half bad. Soon enough, the lady with the cart came around and asked us for the third time that day, "Anything from the trolley?" And usually, our answer would be a no, but today, something caught our eye. Yesterday it had been candies and snacks, but today there were "travel essentials." These "travel essentials" were compasses, maps, and all sorts of satnav devices. So today, we replied, "We'll the lot, please." The lady looked at me like I was mad. Nonetheless, she handed it all to me as I handed her six pounds. I stuffed them in my sack for later. I was so thirsty after that gross, dry oatmeal. I ordered two cups of tea and asked Elm to a game of cards. He declined, but when he did, he sounded so tired. 

He looked tired, too. I felt bad for dragging him here. “Wait, why did you even come here? You live in Blackpool!” His sad, brown eyes filled with tears. “Acacia died.” He began to sob, not like small little tears, but like blood curdling shrieks. Acacia was his little sister, only four years old. I remembered every time I would come over Acacia would be waiting at the door to give me the biggest bear hug. She’d jump into my arms and stay there until Elm makes her let go. “What?” My eyes filled with tears. What? Acacia’s only four! “She..got hit…b-by a…car,” Elm sobbed through tears. Elm’s parents were drunks, never paid attention. His sadness soon turned to anger. “They always leave me alone with her! I’m just a kid, She’s not my responsibility!” My face fell. Of course! How didn’t I see something was wrong? I came over and hugged him. He clung on for hours, until he fell asleep and I was freed. I settled off back into my seat and drifted off until morning arrived. I heard the birds begin to chirp, and while the pain of acacia still burned me, I was relived only twenty five hours remained. Elm awakened as well, his eyes still pink with tears.

I take the paper and burn it in the fireplace. I watch as the smoke from my paper floats in the air in the sunset above, waiting for mama to read it. Each star I count results in a new tear rolling down my face. I think of mama's late night trips to the art store. It was so pretty at night. Just mama and I, letting our troubles float away like they'd never existed while we talk. I run to the garage, and hop into my father's car. I open the garage and zoom out of my house and speed into the hills. There aren't too many cars out because it's pouring rain outside. I drive and drive faster and faster into the lumps of earth. I don't know where I'm going, but I still continue to speed through the streets. The rain is pouring so hard now that all of the world outside from me is non existent, as I can't see any of it. I drive higher and higher into the hills afar as the wind swirls around the car as tears swirl in my eyes. I shouldn't be driving out like this. I've driven before, with dad. I haven't driven alone like this before. The rain is now pouring so hard that it is completely white outside my windows. There is more tension every foot I drive. I smile a little, remembering Acacia. I wish I'd get one more hug from her.

Every window I look out is masked by the extreme rains outside. The winds and rains are starting to take control of the car. Soon, I regret every once of sadness and sorrow. I remember dad, and how he will have lost his only remaining family. I think of Elm, how he'll have lost his best friend. I imagine Acacia, how sad she'll be to have nobody to greet at the door. And all of these people are suffering because of me. All because I desired to see Mama again. I close my eyes as the rain slows but still rushes. My hands still on the wheel and my feet still on the gas stop abruptly when I feel a massive rumble. I bounce up out of my seat, my seatbelt loose. It's too late. The rumble was a Field elm tree falling to the ground. The tree crushes the front of the car, partly crushing me and destroying the windshield. I feel pain shoot up all through my body. I feel my head throb with guilt. I feel my stomach ache with sorrow. I look down and see blood, my blood. I reach down to my leg to try to stop the bleeding, but then I realize it's not just my leg. My whole torso down is covered in red.

The hope of finding her was the only thing keeping me alive right now. The thought of her not being there is torture. The hope is keeping me alive, but I'm praying she really is there. I sit and stare for what feels like eternity. I remember once, a memory of her. We were in a flower picking patch, with dad. I was two. "Mama! Sunny flowers?" She was smiling. "Yes! Let's see the sunny flowers, Blue bird!" I smiled at the nickname. Her favorite animals were blue birds. She took my hand and gracefully jogged over to the sunflowers, still holding my hand. She picked one up and reminded me, "This is nature, we shouldn't pick them! Grab the fallen ones, they're really the same!" She gingerly moved the flower towards her nose. She took a big sniff and put it back down. "Smells amazing, doesn't it?" I smiled too and picked a fallen one up and sniffed it. "Matches my dress!" Although I was two, I managed to speak many words.

My eyes filled with tears. She loved sunflowers. I sat there for hours thinking about her memories. I remembered when there was a little baby rat in our basement and my father had wanted to kill it, but Mama picked it up, gave it some cheese, and let it be free. I shed a tear as I waved goodbye to that little rat. I thought it was cute and wanted it as a pet, but clearly, my dad didn't. As we trailed along, I saw a river. I remember the summer she disappeared, only weeks before, we rented a lake house and we canoed, told stories, and gazed at the stars. When we canoed, Mama rocked the boat so hard it flipped over! It was so funny. That sparked a smile in me. I remember when I was very little, Mama would sing to me each night: 

 She looks up, and suddenly looks appalled. Eyes as wide as a sharks mouth, beginning to drop everything she’s holding. She practically melts. “Faye! Is that actually you?” I bawl louder than I ever had before, running to her arms. I hug tighter and tighter, making sure she can’t leave me again. “W-why did you l-leave- we missed you so much! We thought you were d-dead!” She eternally whispers through her continuous sobs, “I-I’m sorry. I missed you.” My heart was still beating faster than a race car, my mind racing with thoughts zooming through. “Why did you leave? We thought you were dead!” I continued on about how we were all miserable without her, and our lives were terrible without her. "Because..it wasn't safe for me there. Nothing your father could have done, I just the…stock markets…loan sharks…” I guess some things aren't really meant for me to know.  “Koa, where’s Koa?” The mood suddenly became dreary. “Koa didn’t make it,” My heart sank. I wailed even louder now. I remember painting his room. It was a kind of pastel yellow. 

We caught up for a bit, and Grandpa sent Elm with forty pounds for a plane ride home. As for us, mama and I would drive back to England to be with dad.  We renewed all of our memories, like the time I fell into the kangaroo enclosure at the zoo. She was still the carefree Mama I’ve always known.

Seven years ago disaster struck then eight - year - old Faye Lesley and her father when her mother mysteriously disappeared. Seven years later Faye’s oblivion finally fades and she realizes that her mother’s disappearance was really just a big game of hide and seek. Eventually, the journey comes to an end and Faye is once again content with her life. When she quite literally wakes up and remembers how it was all good to be true, tragedy strikes her family yet again. 

Dorie Reese is an eleven year old living in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. She goes to school in the Fox Chapel Area at Kerr Elementary. When she grows up, she aspires to work in emergency medicine.

Dedicated to my best friend who I hope to see again

”Checkmate,” Mama said 9 years ago as we played my first game of chess. I’m Faye Lesley, fifteen years old. I live in a small village in England. I believe my mother is still alive. Exactly 7 years ago, I played yet another game of chess. Just not with my mother. Instead, I was playing chess with Gwen, my best friend. I was just about to win when my father rushed outside. He looked frantic, startled. This was unusual of my father, usually calm and collected. “What’s the matter, dad?” Even being 8, I knew something wasn’t right.

“Gwen, it was lovely having you. It’s getting quite late isn’t it?” He took me inside. “Faye….you’re mother. She’s gone.” His eyes filled with tears. “What about Mama?” I was extremely confused at this point. What was he talking about, and why am I now just hearing about it? He was hesitant to reply. “You’re mother… is gone.” “What? Mama? She’s gone? Forever?” Mind filled with thoughts zooming through my head, heart as fast as a Falcon, sweat dripping off my hands. I prayed for his words to be slightly sugarcoated, hoping this was a joke. He opened his mouth to speak, and just as I had prayed not to hear, he spoke, “Yes…Faye. Forever….” At this point tears of  were rolling down his cheeks. “Where is she? Where is Mama? Can I say….goodbye?” 

Even at this hour, Acacia still manages to meet me at the doorstep, still dressed in pajamas. I give her a gentle hug as she smiles, oblivious of what is happening. I race up the stairs and knock on Elm's door, only to find him half asleep in his mess of a bed. I hug him awake, and this will be his last hug of mine. When he wakes up, he isn't mad about being woken up at six- thirty AM. He's concerned as to why I'm sobbing while also hugging him tightly so early. I remember my last hug with Mama. It was seconds before she flatlined, and dad and I both knew very well that something was wrong, but we were too late. Guilt still weighs down on my shoulders, because we could have saved her. She could still be here if we'd just called a nurse. She passed the next minute. I continue to gaze, remembering her last words. "When I die, Faye, always remember that I will be in the stars looking down at you, waving at you."

The next morning I wake up on the carpet in the sunroom, tears still rolling down my face. It’s still early, maybe six. I remember, when I was four, we’d wake up early to see the sunrise in the sunroom, laying on the floor looking up into the glass roof. I grab some paper, Mama’s favorite pen, and I begin to write. “Mama, I will miss you forever. I am sadder than ever with you gone. I have nobody. I miss you each and everyday and I spend all of my thoughts on your each and every memory of you. You brightened my every day and I can’t bare life without you. Dad has a girlfriend, Angela. She is dreadful, never as wonderful and caring as you. I resent dad for replacing you. Never will I ever in my lifetime treat someone else even a little bit as a mother. You will always be my crazy, carefree, artistic Mama that I love. I love you, and I’ll miss you forever. You were the best. Love, your daughter, Faye. Goodbye, Mama. I will see you soon.”

I dream about mama and her memories, I dreamt about when she was painting sunflowers and bumped into it, and the wet paint covered her. We were both laughing so, so hard. I dreamt of our first game of chess, she letting me win, us celebrating every life's moment. I was awoken when the train stopped quite harshly, and that's when I knew. We were in New York! Just hours away from seeing my mother again! We were practically thrown off the train, and proceeded to a tram. This would take us to the city, where my mother lives! The tram ride is only about thirty minutes, which seems like nothing compared to the train ride. My heart racing in my throat, my eyes darting out the window. I'm shaking, my eyelids closed and heavy, my palms sweaty. The tram stopped much less suddenly than the train. They practically pushed us off, so we grabbed our luggage and our map of New York City.

We walked and walked and walked, a big upgrade from that old smelly train. First we came across a neighborhood that my mother supposedly lives in. We walk into the cul-de-sac and look at the numbers on the mailboxes. 430, 432, 434, 436! My grandfather also lives here, so he would probably open the door. My heart racing as fast as my legs up the stairs, I ring the doorbell. The man known as my grandfather I haven’t seen in years opens the door. “Faye? What are you doing here?” He gives a nervous smile and pulls me in for a giant hug. I step back a bit as I politely demanded, “Where is Mama?” His eyes widened as someone entered the house through the back door. “Is someone there, dad?” I thought I was hearing things. Instead of hearing a stranger’s voice, I heard Mama’s ginger voice. Mama! Mama is there, right behind the door! Mama appears from behind the door, covered in paint holding at least seventy paint samples. “Anyways, I found so many different colors, there’s sage-“

Elm mumbled, “Didn’t know you were so into tea.” Neither did I. Mama was. “I didn’t know that either,” I mumbled back. I randomly blurted, “I don’t think my mother is dead.” He looked up at me. “What?” He was certainly confused. “I need to find her. I know she’s alive.” He again repeated, “What?” ”She’s alive!” This time, people turned to stare. I’d been a bit too loud. “Alright then. Let’s find her.” I think he was just trying not to make me emotional again, he clearly didn’t get it. Eleanor strolled to our table with our food. I thanked her, and she creeped away, not wanting to interrupt anything. “Can we go to the library after this?” I’m sure I’ll find something there. In silence, we devoured our food. We slipped Eleanor four pounds, and I practically dragged Elm out. I rushed towards the library. Barging in, that mean old desk lady shushed me. I guess I growled a bit, as Elm gave me a strange look. We headed to the ‘articles and news’ section and looked for the “L’s” section.

We found absolutely nothing in that section. Now we’ll search the “M” and “K” section for “missing” and “kidnapped,” Elm searched “M” while I searched “K”. I quadruple checked it. “FAYE!!” Elm shouted so loud, that old mean desk lady threatened to call the cops. “What?” I was sure it was a joke. “Come here! I found something!” I ran faster than speed of light hoping it was real. I read the headline. “28 year old Dawn Lesley missing from her home in a small, deserted section in London: Spotted near a local coffee shop not too far from Camden, London,” I was absolutely shocked. “When was this spotted?” My heart was beating harder than a axe chopping wood. “1984…that was only-“ I interrupted him, “Two years ago! This was recent!” I continued down the paper. “Lesley was not found until about 1 year later. She now lives with her father in New York.” I was absolutely appalled. America?

Making my way to my grandmother’s home, I come across a graveyard. I saunter through the graves. I spot my grandfather’s. If his is here, Mama's  would be near; if she’s dead. I soon realize that her’s is not here. Relief that she isn’t dead, at least not in this grave site, soon fades. I am contented, yet also displeased and sorrowful that she can’t have the peace of death. I shake my head, remembering my grandmother. Isolated from others ever since my grandfather passed. I don’t think she minds too much. She’s got Blue, our Australian Shepard. I arrive at her doorstep, knocking loudly as she cannot hear. My mama’s sweet voice ringing in my ears. Instead of hearing her ginger voice, I hear my father’s. Why would my father be at my grandmother’s house? I guess I will find out. “Oh, hello Faye. I didn’t expect you to be here. We were just having a small party,” “A party? It’s been—“ He interrupted me, “Seven years. I know. Come in Faye,” 

I stepped inside, the house reeking of my father’s girlfriend. I simply hate her, and how dare my father replace my mother? What will happen if she’s back? Would he take her back? Angela, her name, marched in, and as soon as she saw me, a disgusted look spread across her smug face. “Why is your daughter here? She will ruin the fun. Nosy, nosy children,” She raged into my father’s ear. I turned to leave when my grandmother stopped me. “Faye, come in,” She glared at Angela. “Children must be spoken to with respect,” She sneered. “What is her problem…” I muttered. “What would you like to eat, dear?”  My grandmother quickly became warm and gentle with me. “I’ve already eaten, I’m afraid, but thank you,” She nodded in agreement. “Some adults really shouldn’t be near young people, you know?” She clearly despised Angela, for the right reasons. She sits me down at that old brown table. “So, why’d you visit? I know your father didn’t tell you about this.

“We need to go to America!” This time, I hollered so loud that finally that old mean desk lady came over and started chasing us with her cane. Who knew that old stubby 90 year old could run? “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY LIBRARY YOU MAD SCOUNDRELS!” We ran. We ran and ran and ran until our exhausted legs couldn’t run any longer. We ran past a park, houses, restaurants, baseball fields, we ran until we reached the train station. We bought two train tickets; to New York City. Before our train boarded, I used a public telephone to call my father. “Hello dad. I’m erm, off to a sleepover with Gwen. See you in 3 days.” I heard voices on the other line. “Sure. Have fun, Faye.” We hopped onto the 36 hour train ride. “Thank you, Elm.” I felt bad about earlier. “Sorry for what?” Even though I could see the hurt through his plastered on smile. "I'm sorry for screaming at you," He nodded, a sign of approval.

"What have I gotten us into.." I mumbled as the train began to leave the station. After about two hours of looking out the window and playing cards with Elm, I dozed off for a bit. When I woke up, there were still around 30 hours left of the train ride. It was already 4 PM. I had luckily brought twelve pounds, so when the lady with a food cart came by, I was able to order two sandwiches and some cold water. Elm and I had booked a table seat, so we each had a window and faced across from each other. My stomach was churning like ice cream the entire ride. I was terrified to possibly see my mother again. We ate our sandwiches and talked for a bit.“I hope you don’t get your hopes up, Faye.” Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I guess I was a bit bored, because he handed me a book. It was a poem book. I read about birds, about schools, I read about art, I read about jobs. Time slipped away from me, as I soon noticed that everyone on the train was asleep. “9:56,” the time read. I soon realized I was tired, and dozed off as well.

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