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A New Start

A New Start
Harriet Guinan

The ice-cold snow shutters up my body. Rippling through my rickety bones. The snow is blasting into my eyes, blinding me. I see something, misty and large, which was getting closer and bigger. I blinked and I was sprawled over by it, but all I could see was black. I see a white light, I come towards it. A picture of a girl forms, I know her but my memories of her are faded, dazed and want to be forgotten.

The image starts to fade again, like a secret that I shouldn’t have seen. I need the picture to stay so I can figure out who this lost girl is. But still it fades away, into nothingness. I return, back to earth, back to my reality. I hear voices shouting, shouting my name. It’s my best friend Emily, she’s worried, but I don’t know why.

Apparently, the avalanche took me, she says that if I’m found I should go to hospital. I protest, I need to find out who that girl is.

I run home; I ask mom who the girl is. She has a shocked expression sewn on her face she tries to convince herself that it was her imagination. Yet she was not easily convinced, and I knew there was no point arguing with her, so I just left. I went to the library, there had to be some town records of everyone. But she wasn’t there, yet I saw a ragged fraction of paper where a page has been. I knew it was her page, I know her, I know it, I just don’t know where from.

Her sparkling teeth, her ocean eyes those are ones that can’t be forgotten, but it seems that everyone is trying not to mention her. But why? Who is she and where is she from? I need to know, we were close, had a special connection, a special bond. I have so many questions, but everyone is hiding the answers. People think that it’s for my own good. But what happened to her?

I see a little piece of pearly white paper sticking out of the back of the book. I pull it out, it’s a flattened origami crane. There’s writing on it, so I unfold it. It’s the missing page, but it’s my profile. I’m the missing girl, the mystery.

I read the rest of the page. I stop when I get to the date of death. I’m confused, I didn’t die. No, I’m right here. I run to the mirror; I stand right in front of it. But I don’t see anything, only the library shelves. I pick up the page, I read further into the paragraph. I was never found in that avalanche.