I Heard it in the Wind
an excerpt

My bedroom. A bleak and tidy mess. I don’t have any lights because I don’t bother fixing the one I have on my dark ceiling. The walls are painted grey and a large window consumes the wall opposite of my black door. No color haunts my room at all - I put those ghosts to rest myself. The window is also covered with black by the curtains. They flap slightly from the wind produced by the sea behind the house. The curtains I hung are too heavy for any Irish wind. Only the wind from England could force itself through my curtains. The day that the thick black curtains allow for an English wind to cool my face, it means something big will happen.
I have wanted to live in England ever since I was four. Unfortunately, my dad thought Ireland would be better. So now, here I am, in Ireland since leaving my home in Maine in sixth grade. I’m so close to my dream of living in England, or even just seeing it, touching it, that I can smell its sea spray. When my dad told me we would move to Europe, I was so excited. Looking back, I can’t see why. The excitement of Ireland wore off in about a week. It’s so boring. Beautiful, yes, but boring. The rain pounds hard here and beats on the roof. Or the sun shines brightly against a cloudy sky, taking a breath while taunting us with a break from the rain. The rolling hills of joy turned into the boring hills of school. I didn’t go to school until a week of living here. That is when it got boring. School is school anywhere.
Except in London. In London, everything happens. All the famous people go to London. I have practiced my British accent, mind you. I love to sit and watch a really good British movie. The people there are lively and fun. Historic and Shakespeare loving London. Now why couldn’t we live there? I go up to my mirror and turn my head to look out of my large door. My mirror shows who I am and my door shows me the possibilities of where I could go.