Running away from home

Hey there! So last week I participated in a writing contest on the theme ‘Running away from home’ and I won! I also won a cash prize for it. Here is my entry on the theme that helped me win.

It was past midnight. Adrian was walking along the side of the seashore. The salty air greeted him, throwing his long hair back. The sea at night was majestic. It was only a few miles away from his house. It was a quaint town, and this beach was its pride. Adrian took a long, deep breath, letting the fresh air rejuvenate him. He was alone, as always. He walked slowly, a little farther away from the sea than usual, because if he got any closer, the high tides would sweep him in. If you’ve been to the sea at night, you will know it is magical. Adrian wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared of it. Its swift transition from soft, friendly to huge, terrifying waves was chilling. During the day, the sea was inviting. During the night, the sea is powerful. You can feel it, you can see it. It does not demand power, it commands you to see it. It can plunge you into the ocean, and the depths of the ocean will consume you before you see the light of the day.  

Still, Adrian also knew that the sea was the servant of the moon, listening to its orders, its mighty pull having an effect on it. When the high tides would arise, Adrian would think it was the ocean’s way of reaching the sky.

He knew it was gravitational pull.

For Adrian, his father was the moon and he was the ocean. The only difference: his father only ever showed his dark side.  

And Adrian, unwillingly, had stayed subject to his father’s whims all his life. Having an abusive father with a drug addiction was not his idea of what the moon was like. To him, the moon was his mother. He saw in the moon the same image as her. The moon was as bruised as his mother, but unlike his father, she never showed her dark side to him. To him, she was the only light. He knew the moon’s light was a reflection of the sun’s light. And his mom’s light, too, was only a reflection of a lifetime of happy memories. How long till the memories fade and all that remains is a shattered vision of your reality? He did not blame her for leaving. He was grateful that she had stayed for so long. He missed her terribly, of course, but if he were her, he wouldn’t have stayed either. Maybe he was more like his mother than he thought. Maybe they had both been oceans under the spell of the same moon. Not anymore though.

He sat on a cliff, the same one he sat on every time. He gazed out at the sea and his mind played the same memory. Her white dress was whipped back by the wind. A woman walked slowly and ahead into the water until the sand was far behind her. A small boy followed her, crying out, “Mom? Mom?” The mother ran back at the sound of her little child on the shore, tears dripping down her face, mingling with sweat. She kissed his forehead and hugged him. They stayed that way for a long time. Then she walked back into the water. He never saw her again.  

The same memory, over and over. Death is a funny thing. You’d never see it coming. It was not a storm that you’d see coming from a distance and get wrapped up in. There was no warning, no news. It was just a gentle breeze. You wouldn’t know its presence until it brushed against your skin and made you stand still, oblivious to everything but the moment and the soft breeze that had passed by you.

The moon was hidden behind dark clouds tonight, its silvery glow faint, lighting up the beach. It was windy. It was the same kind of windy it had been the day his mother died. He was about to leave too. Years of violence, trauma, and emotional abuse had led Adrian to believe that he would never be able to escape his father. It was no longer about running away from here, it was about leaving. Running away was too easy, leaving was hard. Leaving behind a hurtful past and a life not made for him. He didn’t know what lay ahead of him. The prospect of it was equally exciting and terrifying.

He took another deep breath and his shaky hands reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small piece of parchment. This was the last gift his mom had left for him. He found it the day after she died. In hasty writing, she explained,

“Please do not leave like me. Adrian, as soon as you find this, I want you to call this number. This is your aunt’s number. She does not know where I am anymore, but I know she remembers me. You have seen her. I hope you remember her. I don’t know if this is still her number. But this is the last resort we have. I love you.“

The first time he called the number, no one picked up. The second time, no one answered, yet again. The third time, his father walked in, thinking he had called the police, and he was never allowed to use a phone again.

He did not call after that. He was too busy grieving for his mother and feeling angry at himself. The truth was, he was scared. He was scared and not ready. He was scared of dreaming of better things, of the unknown. He was scared that no matter where he went, his father would find him. He was so guilty. How could he walk out of his father’s life? More than anything else, he was foolish. Foolish for staying all these years hoping his father would change. Adrian allowed these feelings to settle. He forgave himself. He was only a child back then. What did he know?

Last night, he turned eighteen. He removed the small note again, after years of hiding it. He went to a telephone booth in the dead of the night and called the number. He hoped against hope that this would be the last time. He was still scared, but he was ready. This time, someone picked up the call.

He stood up now, took a last look at the beach that had been his home for the past eighteen years, and said goodbye. He did not look back at his house. There was no need to. His father was away for two nights, gone for some illegal trade that he called ‘work’. Adrian knew he was a drug dealer.

He did turn around once though, to look back at the place where his mom had disappeared eight years ago.  

Head bowed and his entire body shaking, he wept silently. He was not sure whether they were tears of joy or sadness. Maybe both. He looked up again as the moon emerged from behind the clouds. Clutching his note tightly, he whispered, “Thank you, mum. For everything. “

And then he walked back to the road, where a car with a woman and her son was waiting for him. Adrian smiled as he approached the car. Freedom, at last.