Cal says that humans are made from the nuclear ash of dead stars. He says that when I die, I'll return to dust, glitter,rain. If thats true, I want to be buried right here under this tree. Its roots will reach into the soft mess of my body and suck me dry. I'll be re-formed as apple blossom. I'll drift down in the spring like confetti and cling to my family's shoes. They'll carry me in their pockets to help them sleep. What dreams will they have then?
Jenny DownhamHow late is it? How long have we been sitting here? I look at my watch โ three thirty and the day is almost ending. Itโs October. All those kids recently returned to classrooms with new bags and pencil cases will be looking forward to half term already. How quickly it goes. Halloween soon, then firework night. Christmas. Spring. Easter. Then thereโs my birthday in May. Iโll be seventeen. How long can I stave it off? I donโt know. All I know is that I have two choices โ stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.
Jenny Downham