As much as I love writing stories, thinking of a topic for this story was very hard. Considering this I think the subject I ended up with was unique and good. I felt my details were done well and the advice that came with it was true and special. I had a lot of fun playing around and really investing in the plot and the characters. By far the hardest part was having to work worth a topic so complex and vast, using it to make something realistic.
Is it not crazy just how much we people are capable of? Inventions and ability and knowledge, running into a burning building to save your most intimidating enemy. I’d never thought about this much, at least not until my own power was put to the test. I don’t think you’re ever really aware of what you can do until a situation appears where you don’t even have to think about it, and desperation does most of it for you. It was a normal day, just as any other. A Wednesday, mid September, the nature just starting to enhance with fall color. I’m prancing through Main Street, ogling at the beautiful rustic shops and dainty houses. I focus on watching by high-heeled footsteps dance along the dotted pavement, letting the pleasant wind make mess of my firey red hair. I focus so much on the ground that I don’t notice myself passing my destination. Someone else does though, and I feel a forceful grip on my wrist. I whip around to see my business partner and worst nightmare, Claire Carter glaring at me. She releases my wrist and rubs her now empty hands together, as if disgusted by her having touched me. “DuVal.” She states curtly. “You’re late.” I’m not actually, according to the fancy Marc Jacobs watch that rests just above her stiff left hand. But for Claire, only perfection will do, and I guess that five minutes early doesn’t do it for her. I force myself to smile, “Of course, I’m sorry.” Claire adjusts her baby-blue blazer and I notice the familiar tiny indent form next to her straight mouth as she watches me with pure disapproval. “Just don’t do it again, ok? Now come on, we’re wasting even more time.” I think about arguing that she’s out here out of choice and that if it weren’t for her I would already be upstairs at work, but I keep my mouth shut and follow her obediently through the building to our office.
Three hours and twenty-seven minutes into seemingly infinite receipt work, when my fingertips start to dent from pressing calculator buttons, I decide to go for my first break. Just as I finish tidying my work space, Claire comes parading through the office door. “Where do we keep the extra Harry Potter copies?” she demands. I point silently at the stock in the corner and lead her to the specific box. She takes what she needs and exits the room without thanks. I smile to myself at her harsh yet humorous behavior and shove closed my desk drawer. That’s when it happens, when everything changes. It’s the moment when I started to learn the most important lesson of my life. That nothing is certain, that even the seemingly most perfect and confident people have their weaknesses, and that your are capable of truly anything. I hear a gut-wrenching shriek and panic flashes before me. I leap from my desk chair and impulsively fly towards the door. I fling open the heavy wood and enter an overwhelming force of heat and smoke. My vision is almost non-existent and my lungs burn brutally with black smoke. I blink a few times and cough into my hot hand. My hands grace the area around me, searching desperately for something, anything that could help. I need to get out of here. I turn back to my office, pondering the window. I leap over to the glass, leaving the worst of the fire behind me on the other side of the closed office door. The drop is intense, but I reckon I could make it to the pavement below ok. Whipping around, I watch as the door becomes victim to the flames. I know I have no choice but to jump from the window, and now. I grip the handle with both hands and fight against it. Ten seconds and an arm cramp later it’s open. I wedge one high-heeled foot through the space between inside and out. My foot meets the tiny ledge on the other side and my gut gets tight with anxiety at how lacking of room I am. I swallow and take an attempted relaxing breath, it doesn’t help the nerves much but it is what I need to get my second foot outside. From there I cram the rest of my body through the slim space. I grip a sweaty hand desperately to the windowsill and try to ignore the excruciating fear as I force myself stand up. I reluctantly release the windowsill and straighten myself against the crimson bricks. Now my hands are stretched out beside me, with only the building behind them as support. That's when I make my first mistake. I glance down at the street below me. Panicked nausea appears in my body as I take in the steady traffic, the ever simple structures, the various people walking or on bikes, rollerblades and skateboards. I take my last sentimental breath, ease myself as good I can and- Claire. Claire is still in there. And that was when I made my second mistake. Or then again maybe it wasn’t. Maybe saving Claire was a good idea, and maybe looking down earlier is what made me put jumping off long enough to do it. Either way, the trip back through the window was a lot simpler than the trip out. Within a moment I’m back in my office, snatching my Smart Water bottle from the desk on the way to the door. I force open the door, again assaulted by the heat and smoke. This time though I have a weapon. Motivation. An unexplainable desire to rescue Claire. I unscrew the cap on the bottle and begin to spill the contents as needed across the flames. I do this until there is enough of a space for me to get past the door. I stop dead in my tracks as the flames clear as I see the sight of the shop. Our beautiful books lay strewn across the floor, the other items along with them. The shelves and tables are engulfed in mahogany flames. I fight back tears at the state of my favourite and most precious place but continue on, dodging patches of fire and clouds of smoke. All of this is beginning to affect my brain and my body aching with desperation, fear, smoke and the few flames that have successfully gotten to my skin, making way further inside of me. My senses run wild, I can very well feel what is happening but my smell consists only of the burning around me, my sight is nearly blinded and the crashes and bangs echo in my ears. I start to feel empty, as if Claire isn’t here after all and there is no sense to me doing what I am. And then, just as I am about to give in to it all I find her. She’s huddled in a corner underneath one of the last remaining tables. I race over to her, crouching next to her limp and shaking body. She lifts her head slowly, reluctantly and then her blue eyes meet mine. And that, that utterly pained and fearful and desperate look in her eyes, it changed everything. I realize then that although she seems to be the most perfect and powerful person, things like this would affect anyone and people aren’t always as they seem or pretend to be. Her body is covered in night-black ash, contradicting her usual state. It just proves that I’m right and she isn’t what I always thought of her to be. I reach for her hand, smile down at her and help her stand. She smiles back and I know that it makes us both feel better, that we will get through this together and will both be ok. We tighten our grip on each others hands and like that proceed easily back to the office. On the other side of the door I take her to the window. We both cough and even cry a bit, then Claire starts talking “Thank-” she starts, but I stop her.
“We don’t have time.” She nods. I go through the window first and then help her do the same. We stand together on the ledge, still holding hands. She turns to me. “I know we don’t have much time but I need to get this out.” I’m about to argue but decide not to, letting her go on. “I’ve been awful to you. And I know, I do that there is no excuse for that but I need to explain why.” I stay silent, allow my curiosity to be fulfilled instead. “I have a twin sister. And she is perfect, in every way. Everyone always loved her so much more than me. I was nothing in comparison to her, so as soon as I got the chance I promised myself that from then on I would never again be second place for anything, I had to always be more perfect than her, and everyone else too.” I take a breath, shake my head.
“Claire, you are amazing. But you can’t always win at everything, it’s impossible. You just need to work as hard as you can but accept if that isn’t always enough.” Claire nods shamefully, yet happily.
“I know that now, I’m just sorry that it hurt you while I didn’t. I took it too far, but that's over now, I promise.” I smile.
“It’s all ok, thank you.” She smiles back. “So, are we gonna jump this thing or not?” We both laugh.
“I guess we have to.” And with one last smile, one last breath, one last nod we count down from three and then let go, leaving everything behind.
Three hours and twenty-seven minutes into seemingly infinite receipt work, when my fingertips start to dent from pressing calculator buttons, I decide to go for my first break. Just as I finish tidying my work space, Claire comes parading through the office door. “Where do we keep the extra Harry Potter copies?” she demands. I point silently at the stock in the corner and lead her to the specific box. She takes what she needs and exits the room without thanks. I smile to myself at her harsh yet humorous behavior and shove closed my desk drawer. That’s when it happens, when everything changes. It’s the moment when I started to learn the most important lesson of my life. That nothing is certain, that even the seemingly most perfect and confident people have their weaknesses, and that your are capable of truly anything. I hear a gut-wrenching shriek and panic flashes before me. I leap from my desk chair and impulsively fly towards the door. I fling open the heavy wood and enter an overwhelming force of heat and smoke. My vision is almost non-existent and my lungs burn brutally with black smoke. I blink a few times and cough into my hot hand. My hands grace the area around me, searching desperately for something, anything that could help. I need to get out of here. I turn back to my office, pondering the window. I leap over to the glass, leaving the worst of the fire behind me on the other side of the closed office door. The drop is intense, but I reckon I could make it to the pavement below ok. Whipping around, I watch as the door becomes victim to the flames. I know I have no choice but to jump from the window, and now. I grip the handle with both hands and fight against it. Ten seconds and an arm cramp later it’s open. I wedge one high-heeled foot through the space between inside and out. My foot meets the tiny ledge on the other side and my gut gets tight with anxiety at how lacking of room I am. I swallow and take an attempted relaxing breath, it doesn’t help the nerves much but it is what I need to get my second foot outside. From there I cram the rest of my body through the slim space. I grip a sweaty hand desperately to the windowsill and try to ignore the excruciating fear as I force myself stand up. I reluctantly release the windowsill and straighten myself against the crimson bricks. Now my hands are stretched out beside me, with only the building behind them as support. That's when I make my first mistake. I glance down at the street below me. Panicked nausea appears in my body as I take in the steady traffic, the ever simple structures, the various people walking or on bikes, rollerblades and skateboards. I take my last sentimental breath, ease myself as good I can and- Claire. Claire is still in there. And that was when I made my second mistake. Or then again maybe it wasn’t. Maybe saving Claire was a good idea, and maybe looking down earlier is what made me put jumping off long enough to do it. Either way, the trip back through the window was a lot simpler than the trip out. Within a moment I’m back in my office, snatching my Smart Water bottle from the desk on the way to the door. I force open the door, again assaulted by the heat and smoke. This time though I have a weapon. Motivation. An unexplainable desire to rescue Claire. I unscrew the cap on the bottle and begin to spill the contents as needed across the flames. I do this until there is enough of a space for me to get past the door. I stop dead in my tracks as the flames clear as I see the sight of the shop. Our beautiful books lay strewn across the floor, the other items along with them. The shelves and tables are engulfed in mahogany flames. I fight back tears at the state of my favourite and most precious place but continue on, dodging patches of fire and clouds of smoke. All of this is beginning to affect my brain and my body aching with desperation, fear, smoke and the few flames that have successfully gotten to my skin, making way further inside of me. My senses run wild, I can very well feel what is happening but my smell consists only of the burning around me, my sight is nearly blinded and the crashes and bangs echo in my ears. I start to feel empty, as if Claire isn’t here after all and there is no sense to me doing what I am. And then, just as I am about to give in to it all I find her. She’s huddled in a corner underneath one of the last remaining tables. I race over to her, crouching next to her limp and shaking body. She lifts her head slowly, reluctantly and then her blue eyes meet mine. And that, that utterly pained and fearful and desperate look in her eyes, it changed everything. I realize then that although she seems to be the most perfect and powerful person, things like this would affect anyone and people aren’t always as they seem or pretend to be. Her body is covered in night-black ash, contradicting her usual state. It just proves that I’m right and she isn’t what I always thought of her to be. I reach for her hand, smile down at her and help her stand. She smiles back and I know that it makes us both feel better, that we will get through this together and will both be ok. We tighten our grip on each others hands and like that proceed easily back to the office. On the other side of the door I take her to the window. We both cough and even cry a bit, then Claire starts talking “Thank-” she starts, but I stop her.
“We don’t have time.” She nods. I go through the window first and then help her do the same. We stand together on the ledge, still holding hands. She turns to me. “I know we don’t have much time but I need to get this out.” I’m about to argue but decide not to, letting her go on. “I’ve been awful to you. And I know, I do that there is no excuse for that but I need to explain why.” I stay silent, allow my curiosity to be fulfilled instead. “I have a twin sister. And she is perfect, in every way. Everyone always loved her so much more than me. I was nothing in comparison to her, so as soon as I got the chance I promised myself that from then on I would never again be second place for anything, I had to always be more perfect than her, and everyone else too.” I take a breath, shake my head.
“Claire, you are amazing. But you can’t always win at everything, it’s impossible. You just need to work as hard as you can but accept if that isn’t always enough.” Claire nods shamefully, yet happily.
“I know that now, I’m just sorry that it hurt you while I didn’t. I took it too far, but that's over now, I promise.” I smile.
“It’s all ok, thank you.” She smiles back. “So, are we gonna jump this thing or not?” We both laugh.
“I guess we have to.” And with one last smile, one last breath, one last nod we count down from three and then let go, leaving everything behind.