As a little girl, the people around me seemed different. They all looked at me funny. I was always told by my loving mother that they were envious. I did not know what they could be jealous of, definitely not my crazy, curly, orange hair. After my mother died, I did not have anyone to rely on. My father was always away for work and I never saw him. After she died, I felt alone.

There comes a time in life that it gets rough. Things get twisted and turn out not as planned. As I ran, I thought about these things. This time was not going as planned.

The sirens were in the distance and I had nothing in my hands. That was not according to plan. My partner was back in the building, and he was unconscious. That was not according to plan. I should not be alone in this. I was not sure what was going to happen, but I knew I had to get out of that place if I wanted a future. Just as I thought I had gotten to the point of safety, police cars screeched in front of me and I skidded to a halt. The bulky police officer jumped out of his car and pulled a gun out… that was not according to the plan.

Inside the jailhouse, many people crowded me. Some looked like criminals; some looked like innocent people. I figured I looked like one of those innocent people, and that was what I hoped for in the trial.

At the trial I wore a cute dress, my orange hair up, a necklace with a tiny gem, and flats to make myself look vulnerable. On the inside I was hard and ready to win this battle, and they did not know that. The people all around the courthouse did not look so vulnerable, like the judge, who looked directly at me, looked very bold. The people all around me had big curious eyes. They all wondered what my story was. None of my family showed up, and I had not expected them to. I had not seen any of them in years. My partner was nowhere to be seen. As the trial got on a roll, things started happening so quickly. I was finally called up to the witness stand and the prosecutor asked a series of questions, but one struck me and I could not answer.

“Annabel Chapman, did you know that your partner in crime is dead?” Right away my eyes widened and I started to shake. “He was killed on the scene.” My eyes started to water and I shook my head.“You didn’t know, huh?”

“I did not.” I answered. They asked me if I plead guilty and I did. I knew I could not get away from this. My life was ruined, and I had no future. The plan was ruined.

After being in confinement for ten months, I had no friends. I kept to myself and did not talk. I somehow intimidated people, and I liked it. Prison was certainly lonely though. I started talking to myself. People thought I was crazy, including me. It just got worse the longer I was in there. I became crazier and crazier. The prison guards started hearing me as I got louder. I started talking when I was unaware I even did it. I even began talking in my sleep. I did not know who I was talking to, just that I knew that they were listening.

Eventually, the authorities thought I was mad when I started laughing at my own jokes. I thought they were funny. They took me away for safety of the other inmates. I was not hurting anyone; I just scared them into thinking I would. They took me to an even more confined place. The single room was about six foot by six foot and had the toilet and bed taking up most of it. It was so quiet in there. I could finally hear the voices talk back to me. Now that we were alone I did not want to talk back to them. I sat in silence while my head made up the sounds. Everyday I would sit there waiting for a guard to bring food so I could just look at another person. The food was always moldy and smelled like fish. I never knew what it was. I stayed calm everyday in there, and I always thanked the guard for the food. I hoped they knew I was trying not to be insane. The isolation brought me back to reality. I thought about the things I had done in my past. That heist that got me in here and killed my best friend. I was naive and did not realize it until it was too late. I was stuck in my own solitude.

When the guards finally let me out of the tiny lifeless room, I was so grateful. I followed everyone’s instructions and stuck to the rules. I had to have been in that small room for at least two years. After three more years in the prison I was released. I tried to call anyone to come to save me. My mother was dead, my father disowned me, my brother was homeless. I had no friends to go to. I was alone in the world again.

When I was left alone by the prison guards that released me, I started running towards the sun. It was so bright and beautiful. I felt warm and happy. I did not want to go back to the seclusion. A bird flew over my head and I followed it. It looked free and happy. The orange on its shiny little body glimmered. That’s how I wanted to look. I followed it to the park. It flew over the bridge, the high one with rocks at the bottom. I looked around for my new friend, but I could not find him. I was alone again.

I walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the rocks. Water was streaming through each crevice. The trees had sun rays gleaming and they were bright. The birds chirped and sang beautiful melodies to one another. The setting and sounds were so perfect and beautiful. I climbed to the top of the railing. The breeze gently swayed the bridge and I swayed with it. I was ready to be somewhere new. I fell. As I felt the wind hit my skin, I looked up to the sky. A single orange feather floated in mid air and I knew I was released from my loneliness.

 

Strategies:

In the beginning I used imagery to describe her hair, and it continues through the story.

The theme was loneliness. The girl felt alone throughout the whole journey and it is supposed to make the reader feel it too.

At the end, symbolism is used with the bird and feather. The bird symbolizes freedom when she gets out of the prison, and the feather represents the lightness she feels when she realizes she is finally not alone anymore.