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Sandy and Raven's Roleplay
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Sandy
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Feb 15, 2010 08:06PM
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Gender: female
Age: 16
Personality: shy, doesn't trust most people, usually comes across as rude
Appearance: http://www.goodreads.com/photo/group/...
Gender: female
Age: 16
Personality: bubbly and outgoing, though realistic, understanding
Appearance: shoulder-length curly, dark brown hair, green eyes, pale coloring, 5'4''
In a small park, not too far from where you live, there is an inviting little bench. Countless little ones have sat happily swinging their legs, curiously picking at its old, grey paint. And how many elderly men have rested their canes on the ground beside that seat, tossing bread crumbs to the birds that come so willingly to feast on the gifts from the kindly stranger? Over the years, schoolchildren have eaten lunch there, joggers have paused for a moment's rest and a quick drink, and mothers have seated themselves in this peaceful place, watching their children on the swings while listening to their merry giggles and screams of joy.
Today, however, icicles hang from the monkey bars. Snow is falling quietly, slowly bleaching the grass. It is a beautiful sight to behold, to some of us. Many look, but few see the elegance of the landscape.
Yet the dark figure who now sits on the bench is oblivious to the breathtaking beauty. She finds no joy in anything. Only in him. The one she thought she loved, the one she thought loved her... HE is all she wants. And that is the only thing she can think about today. She doesn't care that her fingers are numb, that the tears streaming quietly down her cheeks only make her colder and colder. A gust of frigid winter air puffs against her, and this girl is so distraught that she has forgotten how to shiver. All that would satisfy her is to win back what she has lost and will never have again.
Would death be so terrible? Surely it would be better than living like this.
(Now we have the setting we'll switch to past tense)
She finally reached the park, disappointed to see someone on the bench she had hoped to rest on but settling for the swing set instead. She strode quickly over to it, sitting in one of the swings and gently pushing herself with her feet.
It was then that she really looked at the person sitting on the old park bench that everybody loved.
The person, a girl who looked to be Meg's age, was dressed in dark clothing. Her face was full of grief, and she appeared to be crying.
Meg let her feet fall still as she looked at the girl. What could have possibly happened to her to make her so sad?
(might change this a bit later . . . we'll see . . . but what do you think of it so far, sanders?)
Lana rubbed her bare hands together, crossed her legs, and took a deep breath. It never helped, she discovered when she exhaled. Nothing could.
Every day for the past week, her life - this miserable, loathsome thing called "life" - had been the same: trudge sadly to the park across the street, sit down, and cry. She imagined Micheal sitting on the bench beside her, making her laugh, making her love him more and more... Lana remembered it so clearly. So how could it be over?
She shook some snow off her head. Mike had loved the snow. Winter - this was his favorite season.
"Not mine," she barely breathed. Lana suddenly hated winter. And spring… summer… fall… She hated the bench on which she sat, the ground beneath her feet. She hated that girl sitting on a swing across the playground - no one belonged there but Micheal.
Watching yet another teardrop slide off her nose and onto her lap, Lana realized she hated even herself. But most of all, she hated God. A god who could let the boy she loved die of cancer. A god she wasn't sure even existed.
But she hated Him. She hated everyone in the whole, rotten world.
It was just . . . well, the girl looked so sad. She looked like she needed someone to hug her, to sit down with her and pray for her.
Of course, the girl looked rather angry too. She might not want someone to waltz over and say, "Are you okay? Can I pray for you?"
Did Jesus hover in the shadows when He thought people might be opposed to Him? No, Meg thought. So you shouldn't either.
Trying to swallow her apprehension, she got to her feet and slowly approached the girl.
Still, she was anything but content.
Unfortunately Lana couldn't completely isolate herself from the world; she couldn't disappear, and she couldn't make everyone else disappear. She would see what went on around her, whether she liked it or not.
She couldn't help noticing a movement out of the corner of her eye - what seemed like far, far away. It was about time that idiot got off Micheal's swing. It didn't really matter, though. Nothing did.
Glancing up, Lana suddenly realized the girl was walking toward her - yes, limping in her direction. Just a stranger passing by . . . nothing that concerned her. Then why was she looking her way? And what was that expression on her face? Compassion?
I don't need any sympathy, Lana thought. Leave me alone.
Lord, help me know what to say to this girl. Let her open up to me instead of shut me out, Meg prayed in her mind.
Her right leg aching from the walking she'd done (even though it hadn't been much), she finally reached the bench. "Hi," she forced herself to say. "A-are you okay?"
(i'll try to make my comments longer after this :P and sorry i haven't posted in so long!!!!)
Instantly Lana wanted to snap rudely at the girl. "It's not like you care," or maybe, "None of your stupid business." But something inside her heart - something new, something powerful - made her stop just as she was about to lash out. All she said was, "No. I'm the farthest from okay there's ever been." The moment the words had slipped from her mouth, she felt like she'd made a huge mistake. This limping stranger was not going to leave. Ever.
And suddenly that didn't seem so terrible after all. She was missing something… something besides Mike.