For this edition our creative writing brief was: Write a story or a poem in a genre of your choice to go with the title “The Missing Person”. This is one of our entries from Rosa who attends our HCYC South Kilworth SKY Youth Club and is also a student at Lutterworth College.
A subtle breeze caresses my cheek as I wander through the peaceful park towards the ice cream van. Once I arrive, I order a single scoop with sprinkles because Katie loves sprinkles. I grin happily as I walk back to the bench, ice cream in my hand, a perfect gift for my perfect little girl.
Strangely though as the bench emerges into my eyesight, Katie does not as well, I assume she’s gone to the park to play, Katie loves to play. I stare out into the playground, but no Katie; so, I inspect further heading to the swings, Katie loves the swings; again no Katie. I’m getting scared now. Thankfully as I turn around, I see her back by the bench in her bright pink coat. I hastily jog back and place my hand on her shoulder; then I realise it isn’t Katie, just another girl, now white as a ghost, with the same bright pink coat. Fear floods back through my veins, shocking me to my core like an icy blast. The icecream escapes from my grasp and falls to the floor by my feet, sprinkles smear upon my shoes.
I bolt back to the playground, and rapidly check every piece of equipment, every child, every inch of the playground, but my perfect Katie is nowhere. Where is my Katie? I ponder if she’s mistaken the wrong bench and is actually sitting there patiently (perfectly) waiting for me, her mummy. I check every bench, twice, and when I don’t see her on them, I check under them. She’s nowhere to be found! I run to the other parents and ask if they’ve seen my Katie, but no luck. I scream at the top of my lungs for her until I can’t any more, and still no luck. Where is my Katie?
Tears work their way down my cheeks forcing out sobs alongside them, purposefully blinding me and stopping me from calling for her, my Katie. Suddenly I trip and fall, and dust plumes surround me and smother me, choking me as they try to cover all of my body, and I let them, as I lay on the floor, broken and unfixable.
After what seems like a millennia, I wipe my eyes and there stood before me a policeman only a few metres away, staring into the evening sun. I sprint to him. I grab his arm. I beg for his help, and with tears in my eyes I plead.
“Please, please help me, my daughter is missing!” I gasp.
“Julia, you need to stop,” was his response. How does he know my name?
“Julia,” he said it again.
“She’s gone,” … who’s gone? Surely not,
“Katie’s gone!” My stomach drops instantly.
“Julia, Katie has been missing for a year now, you need to stop!” The policeman announced it forcefully. I notice his face is stern, yet sad also, almost knowingly.
Something deep within me clicks back.
I let go of the man. I stop crying. I brush away the dust. I walk away.
I found a bench to sit on. As I glance upwards, I spot Katie playing on the swings, Katie loves the swings; she’s wearing her bright pink coat like always. She’s smiling perfectly, laughing perfectly, waving at me perfectly. I wave back, but something catches my eye lying on the floor. There it was a scoop of ice cream with sprinkles, Katie loves sprinkles! What a waste I think as I watch it slowly melt in the last glimmers of sunlight. Then a new thought enters my mind. Katie will love some ice cream, a perfect little gift for my perfect little girl, and so I head to the ice cream van with a subtle breeze caressing my cheek as I wander over.
