Tears for Glastonbury | By: Matthew Pedrick | | Category: Short Story - Teen Bookmark and Share

Tears for Glastonbury


Sarah and Eve move cautiously through the party, as not to lose each other in the crowd. Several boys have tried to prize Eve away already, but knowing Sarah did not want to be alone in the house, and who could blame her, she continued to resist their approaches.
The air around them has become polluted with the potent stench of cheap vodka and sex hungry testosterone oozing profusely from every horny teenage boy present. They pass through the kitchen, where a young, formerly-innocent girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, lay extended along the floor whilst a much older boy brutishly caresses her now half-naked body. He must be at least twenty, scowled a disgusted Sarah. Continuing through to the garage they find a group of girls and boys sat together in a circle. Eve and Sarah knew a few of the girls from work, one Sarah knew from school, though they have never really spoken.
The group are playing spin-the-bottle, which struck Sarah as being slightly immature, but she decides to join in regardless. There are four boys and now five girls inside the circle. Each of the four boys caught Sarah as being quite shy and withdrawn - a quality she enjoys. They leave so much untold you are never quite certain what you might discover; much like a bag of Revels, the excitement lay in the surprise.
The boy second in from the right lent forward in anticipation of his turn, grasping the bottle with his left hand and thrusting in a clockwise motion. As the bottle began to spin its concentric circles, time seemed to slow down for Sarah until the suspense became all too much to bare. This boy - this young man - Sarah's and locked the two in a stare of profound intensity. His look adumbrated an infatuation much stronger than anything she had encountered before. The overwhelming sensation transformed to an equally fierce anxiety as the bottle finally ceased its movement. All eyes gaze upon Sarah for the bottle rests at her feet - the inevitability of life should never be underestimated, not in situations like these.
Sarah's eyes slowly begin their ascent, paying careful attention to the slender figure approaching her position. Full, curving lips sat delicately poised between high, defined cheekbones, with long strands of dark hair resting upon soft, glowing skin. His chocolate eyes, flowing deep with endless warmth, engage Sarah's as their lips embrace renders her free of inhibitions. She becomes so immersed in the kiss, she hardly notices a small object passing through to her mouth. The longer the kiss lasts, the more Sarah's desire grows, only now the boy is withdrawing and whatever had entered her mouth is now resting at the bottom of her stomach.
Sarah feels panic quickly filling her thoughts. What was it? Did he mean for it to happen?
Everyone else in the circle were smiling and laughing together, especially Eve who found the event to be quite hysterical. Sarah fashions a smile as to not seem strange, but she couldn't shake the feeling something terrible has happened. She really just wants to go home. Get away from this filthy house and its equally lewd inhabitants.


Sarah has barely moved for several minutes now, as she lay sprawled across the garage floor. She observes the boy, whose kiss remained cemented in her memory, speaking one syllable at a time - much to her amusement.
The world around her has now slowed to a deadening dull, pushing her eyelids further, and further down. Her breathing has weakened to such an extent she cannot move. She feels so tired.
The boy has remained with her all night, waiting for the inevitable. He watches her finally drift off into a deep sleep and, after signaling to the others, lifts her upon his back and heads upstairs, ensuring as few people as possible notice. Once inside the bedroom he places her on top of the single bed, before apologising in earnest. This is a very beautiful, and impassioned girl. An uncorrupt girl, until now. But he had a debt to pay, and this was the deal he made. The boy creeps out of the room, leaving the door partially open, before turning into a nearby party goer. Only it isn't. TT stands towering over the boy with a wry smile across his face.
"We're even now, right. This was the deal." squeaked the dwarfed boy.
"Sure. This was the deal." TT's smile almost manifests into a laugh, but he keeps his cool to stare out the petrified kid. He taps him on the shoulder and slides into the room, locking the door behind him.


Strips of white light filter through the metallic blinds opposite Sarah, projecting a grid of flickering bars across the wall and over her face. The bright light illuminating her sealed eyelids a glowing red, prompt a shuffle to the bottom of the bed.
She lifts her head to look around the obscenely filthy room, searching for Eve, but she is alone, and naked. Her clothes lay scattered about; draped over a chair, crumpled against the door, hanging from the grotesque green and gold light fixture
Where is she? Or, perhaps more importantly, how has she got here? She almost wants to know what has happened, but the emptiness of everything left her too frightened to consider. She rubs her forehead reflexively, pained by the confusion that clouded her memory.
Sarah collects the pieces of clothing spread out across the room, dressing herself calmly and correctly, as her throbbing head fills with rash contemplation.
Out the door and down the stairs lay dozens of unconscious bodies occupying all manner of positions from the middle of the staircase, to the collapsed radiator shelf, and even to an elongated shoe rack perched precariously against the front door. If she is to leave, she will need another exit.
Creeping in between the still docile victims of a night of heavy drinking and drugs, Sarah locates a back door hanging loose from its hinges. Through the door yet more bodies colour the otherwise sterile garden, none though are that of Eve - where had she gone? Sarah prayed desperately no harm had come to her, or anyone else at this party for that matter. That included herself.
She finally arrives at the top of her street, having dragged and shuffled the majority of the trip home. Her body ached as if sorely wounded, and perhaps it is. She knew what had happened last night - it didn't require memory to work it out. If only she had stuck with Eve all night, like planned.
Approaching her house, Sarah notices shattered glass littered all over the garden and drive way, especially the drive way. Her dad's car is not here, so presumably nor is he. Had some terrible event befallen her father and their home during the night?
God, why me.
Sarah slumps onto her steps head in hands and begins to cry.
Forget Glastonbury and its filth. All the trash that occupy its streets; the cold, heartless thugs that would rather see beauty crippled and bleeding in a gutter.
Does their righteous demeanor allow them freedom to judge and dictate how the people of this town live? It would certainly seem so. Police aren't worried about it. Christ, the bulk of the force is made up of these thugs. That's how our civilised society works: The intellectuals and creatively gifted among us carry on learning, the hard working and honest members of society pursue careers, whilst the yobs are given guns and badges of authority with license to roam.
Sarah rushes into her house and begins packing. She decides only essentials, as she won't be able to carry anything more than that.
Now at the door, Sarah drops her things and heads to the living room where she takes one of the family photos from the wall and slips it into her bag. The picture was taken on their last holiday in Paris. It was probably the only time all three of them were together and happy for more than a few hours. The image filled Sarah with the hope she needed, and had done for several months now.
Arriving outside the station, Sarah stops by a cash machine to withdraw some money. She had taken her dad's debit card before leaving the house - there was no choice, she needs the money. After two failed PIN attempts she withdrew the maximum amount of cash the machine would allow, and headed inside.
The old man behind the ticket counter is very friendly and jokes that a pretty young girl like herself should have a boy buying the ticket for her. His voice has a slight rasp, not uncommon with people of his age. He passes Sarah her ticket through the glass screen with a noticeable tremble to his hand. She felt a degree of pity for the man, who, in this short period of time, has come across as being quite the gentleman - if only all men were like him, she thinks.
Sat on a bench outside waiting for her train to come in, which was expected any minute, she notices a weak and decrepit homeless man curled up by the main building. The loneliness and desperation of his situation spoke volumes for her position. How can she feel hard done by, with all her friends and family and the wonderful home she's quite casually taken for granted all these years.
Sarah walks over to the man and passes him what remained of the two hundred pounds she just withdrew. She and the man share a brief smile, before returning to their business.
A train chugs into the station, halting right by Sarah and her bench and releasing a belated burst of air throughout each of its seven carriages. As the driver steps out Sarah catches his attention to ask whether this train is the Nine-thirty-five to Bristol, a gentle nod is his reply.
Once on the train she rests at the nearest table, throwing herself back in relief. The events of the last twenty four hours has left her drained of all strength. The train journey might allow for some much needed rest.
Just as Sarah begins to drift off the pulse of the trains engine starting up keep her alert. At that moment it really hit her. She is leaving home, and not just her house, but the entire town. Tears well in her eyes, as, framed photo in hand, she tries to keep the overwhelming emotion at bay. There is no turning back now.
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