Dlamming the door Essay Example

Dlamming the door Essay Example Dlamming the door Essay Dlamming the door Essay There was more to that poem but I would rather not finish it now. After writing that poem I crept out of the house. I knew then, that I had to go to that lake. I left the house, slamming the door as I went. I went through the park, not the childrens one but the big one, which connects to the old meadow and hill. No one had been there for a very long time. I ran through the park and through the meadow, twisting my ankle on long tufts of dead grass. Nobody looked after that meadow so it looked like a necropolis but smelt distinctively of manure. I ran to the peak of the big hill, feeling the cold breeze sweeping along my face. My adrenaline was pumping. As I was standing at the top of that hill, I dont remember how, but I suddenly slipped. I tumbled down and lost control. Although it was only two minutes it seemed to last forever. I was encrusted in leaves and dried mud. I got up brushing out my hair with my fingers like a clumsy comb. I looked straight ahead of me, and there right before my eyes was that lake. The one I saw in my dream or close enough anyway. I inhaled the stench of wet moss, the silence around me was deafening. I took a second glance at the lake. I kneeled down and touched the water. Beautiful cold water, ripples glistening. I took a deep breath One, two, three. I plunged forward. I lay there for a few minutes, and then I felt myself being lifted out of the water. I opened my eyes and struggled to sit up but a man was saying, No, lie down; you are going to be fine. I remember seeing flashing lights and hearing a policemans car siren. After that traumatic experience and a few counselling sessions, my mother decided it was best for us to move. We went to Birmingham. I tried to move on, but all those memories from killing those innocent creatures for revenge came back to haunt me. Years went by, I got married and had two children. I promised myself that my history would not repeat itself. I did not want to raise my children to be spineless, cold murderers. Sometimes I try to forget about my past, but deep down I know that the past will always lie beneath me. 4:00pm. The kids should be home any minute now. I heard keys rustling through the door. I put the kettle on. Everything should be fine now. Psychoanalysis is now complete. I moved on right?