Hero & Heroin
horizon of her mind, well you know what I mean………… I’m sure you’ve read it all before and if
you want that sort of thing, then please go off and read a Mills & Boon because you won’t find it here.
It was twelve-fifteen when Sarah had leapt from the dark depths of cotton blankets to parade
herself in front of the yawning mirror. Is this face, this the innocence of seventeen? Her dark hair
bounded her slim face and curled up slightly, giving the whole visage an appearance of an Egyptian
queen, and yet somehow she had never appreciated her own beauty, her own simplicity, until that
night. ‘God it’s early’ she thought to herself looking at the enamel clock on the dressing table. (Now
you, the reader must appreciate that time as understood by teenagers is a different concept to that of
normal mortals. The days do not officially start until midday and continue until 4am. Sundays do not
exist at all and as such, they could be obliterated from the calendar with no detrimental effect. For
Sarah-Jane Sullivan the only good thing about this particular Sunday was that she would be seeing
Mark tonight; but that was eight hours away. Now, Sarah Sullivan she was not one of those women
who require a week to get ready for a date, hers’ was a natural beauty, and as such after along relaxing
bath, she could be ready to face the world in less than two hours. (It is rumoured that this is something
of a world record for a woman, and as the author, I am toying with the idea of contacting the Guinness
book of Records).
Eventually she managed to find enough strength to raise her hand to brush her hair into its
familiar shape. Her rounded face and large brown eyes spelt out her youth and gave her an elfin-like
countenance. Her face glowed with the flush of youth, and even without makeup, she managed to look
radiant and beautiful. Slowly, but surely the bedroom carpet carried her to the landing, where the
crystal-cut stairway unravelled beneath her feet like, some giant escalator, as she slid down towards
the ascending aroma of Sunday lunch.
Mark stared blankly at the frost bitten windows wincing with pain from its icy touch.
Darkness slowly, slipped away into obscurity without ever asking permission to leave; and dawn
arrived whisking passed his yawning eyelids, stroking lawns of velvet grass; Dawn, lightly tapping on
the windowpanes and sighing softly on the silver glass. Yes, Dawn arrived. - She was not expected
that early in the morning but she came, nonetheless, and a lovely girl she was. - Well at last, he