Creative Writing - Belonging

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Creative Writing
I jump back as a black feline shoots across the path in-front of me. I catch a glimpse of its matted fur; a screeching hiss pierces the night air as it encounters a mammal in the undergrowth. They say a black cat at night is bad luck, but I honestly doubt my luck could get any worse in light of recent events. “Get out, you don’t belong here anymore”, “Just looking at you makes me sick. Leave now and get out of our lives”. It’s funny how the ones who are meant to love you the most, can turn on you so easily. My adolescent legs strain as I continue along the path aimlessly, my stomach rumbles in emptiness as I realise I left without food. How can one think of such things at a time like that? I most certainly didn't, and now the only thing dwelling in my gut was the sore pain that was the increasing hate for the cruel beings that raised me. Lost in my thoughts my melancholy walking pattern is disrupted as my foot catches on a thick branch and I fall swiftly face first into a small jagged rock. Dazed, I lift myself up from the ground and dust myself off; my left eyelid closes automatically as blood rolls down the top of my face. Cursing, I wipe my face with my sleeve, soaking the cotton a blackish-red instantly. The shock dissipates and pain sets in, sharp agony mixed with a strange tingling sensation on my forehead. I forcedly push the pain to the back of my mind, and go to take my next step just as a small blue spherical object reflecting the moon catches my eye on the edge of the track. Interested, I walk over to it, and pick it up in my hands. After examining the dirt caked ball, images of my younger brother flash through my mind. Times spent together, kicking a ball in the backyard, taking him to his first movie, and then screams of pain, blood, oh god the blood is.... The ball drops to the ground as my hand trembles from the horrible images. I kick it far away off the trail in anger as Im reminded of the situation Im in. The smoky scent of...
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