Author’s Note: This is inspired by the poem Lucy Gray by William Wordsworth. For having a more in depth understanding and perspective it is advised to read the poem first.
Wind keeps slapping my face—hard, so hard I can barely see the path ahead of me. The way my bicycle jolts over the uneven ground of the woods makes me certain I’m going to fall any second, and then I’ll have to come up with another excuse for my injuries when I get home. Yeah, because Mum still doesn’t know I’ve been roaming these woods almost every day. Why? Well, because I’m searching for my little sister, Lucy—Lucy Gray. Ever since she disappeared in these woods, I’ve been looking for her. Everyone said she died in that huge snowstorm, but I don’t believe them—or maybe I’m just not ready to accept it yet. I know it’s been so long, but what else can I do? She was my little sister.
Honestly, I blame myself for everything. If I hadn’t been ill, she wouldn’t have gone out into that storm. If I hadn’t let her go, she would be with us right now. I would still hear her laughter and singing around the house. Mum wouldn’t be depressed. Dad wouldn’t be drowning himself in work. She was beloved by all three of us, and I can’t stand watching my parents like this. That’s why I blame myself for ruining our little family.
My bicycle jolted hard, my balance vanished, and I fell. Before I could even process it, I was rolling down the slope. Mud, leaves, and bushes clung to my hair and clothes. My head hit a rock, and blood started pooling from my forehead. The pain hit brutally, made worse by the winter air. I lay still on the rough ground until I caught my breath. I tasted mud in my mouth. I spat it out and wiped the blood from my forehead with my jumper sleeve while scanning the woods, hoping she would finally come out from whatever hidden place I hadn’t discovered yet.
I wandered for another hour before picking up my bike to head home. I took a deep breath of resignation and started my journey back.
The moment I entered the house, Mum stormed towards me, her expression full of fury.
“Where were you?” she demanded, grabbing my arms tightly.
I swallowed hard. “School,” I replied quietly.
She shook me by the arms. “Jason Gray! Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“It’s true. I’m not lying, Mum,” I muttered.
She let go and began pacing around the room, trying to calm herself. My mum, Sarah Gray, is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—honey-coloured hair, honey eyes, fair pinkish skin. Lucy looked just like her. But right now, Mum’s hair is messy, dark circles cling to her eyes, her skin pale. It breaks my heart every time I see her like this.
“Really? Then why did George come here looking for you, saying you’ve been absent for a week?” Her sharp question snapped me from my thoughts.
“Um… Mum, actually—”
“Actually what? Seriously, Jason, I don’t want any more lies. What happened to your forehead?” Her anger stopped the moment she noticed my wound. She rushed towards me again, this time full of concern.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I said, trying to ease her worry.
“You’re lying again.” Her voice trembled, as if she were about to cry.
“My balance slipped and I fell. I scraped my forehead, that’s all,” I explained. I considered telling her everything, but if I did, she’d never let me go back. She’s been terrified of the woods since the incident. And I can’t stop now. It’s been eight months since it happened, and I’ve been going there ever since.
“Jason,” she said softly once she had calmed down, “I won’t ask where you go or what you do. Just promise me you won’t go near those woods. Please. Just promise me.”
My eyes filled with tears, but I held them back. She looked at me expectantly.
“Okay, Mum. I promise,” I murmured.
She smiled and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. While her arms wrapped around me, I crossed my forefinger and middle finger behind her back.
“Come on, let me get you something to eat. But first, let me clean your wound.”
She cleaned it carefully, then said, “Go to your room, take a bath, and change into clean clothes.”
I rushed upstairs, closed the door, leaned against it, breathing hard. Then I went to freshen up.
I promised Mum—but I kept going to the woods, just more carefully now. First school, then two hours wandering among the trees. I don’t know why, but these woods have become my safe space. I spend hours roaming and feel strangely calm, like my nerves loosen. Like my sister’s presence lingers in the air, making this dangerous place feel like home. Like she made friends with the woods and somehow shared them with me.
Days passed like wind. My routine stayed the same. I couldn’t focus on school. I didn’t even like school anymore. Every minute felt like a year. My grades worsened, but I didn’t care. Teachers told me to focus, but my mind stayed in the woods. I still searched for her but never saw her. Yet rumours kept spreading—people swore they saw her laughing and singing. That made me furious. Why would she show herself to others but not to me? Was she avoiding me? Was she upset with me? I didn’t know, and it soured my mood even more.
One day, I was sitting in the classroom because my teacher didn’t allow me to leave until I solved some questions. Suddenly, four boys walked towards me. They were from my class, but we were never on good terms. I ignored them and kept working. I knew they were about to bully me. I decided I wouldn’t react. No matter what, I’d stay silent.
But then one of them said something that made my blood boil.
“Hey! We heard about your ghost sister. She must be so ugly. Ghosts are ugly, you know. And she’s your sister, so she has to be uglier.”
He laughed, the others joining him.
My decision to stay calm flew straight to hell. I lunged at him, pushed him so hard he fell, and before he could get up, I punched him again and again. The teacher came, dragged me off, called my parents. They complained, lectured, yelled—whatever. I didn’t register any of it. Rage drowned everything. All I heard was: how dare he talk about my sister like that.
I wanted to leave. I needed to calm down. And there was only one place where I could breathe—the woods.
I ran.
I ran and ran, fell hard, stood up, ran more until the woods swallowed me.
I screamed into the trees.
“Lucy! Lucy Gray! Why won’t you come out? Come out from wherever you’re hiding! It’s all because of you! You show yourself to others but not to me? How is that fair? I’ve been searching for you for almost a year!”
I stopped to breathe. Tears streamed down my face, my skin hot from screaming, my whole body trembling.
“You enjoy this, don’t you?” I shouted. “Irritating me. Playing hide-and-seek. They called you a ghost. They called you ugly. But you’re not ugly. My sister isn’t ugly.”
My voice cracked. My throat felt raw. I collapsed against a tree, threw my head into my hands, and sobbed until my chest hurt. Silence wrapped around me. It felt like the woods were staring at me, stunned.
Then I heard a giggle.
I froze.
Maybe I imagined it.
But then it came again—a giggle, a soft laugh. My heart tightened.
I looked around, hands trembling.
“Lucy,” I whispered.
“Lucy, are you there?” I called louder. My heart thumped so violently it hurt.
A soft melody floated between the trees.
I followed the sound as if I were hypnotised.
Something moved in my peripheral vision—a small figure in an ice-blue coat. I turned, but she hid behind a tree. I walked closer, but she was gone. Then she peeked from another tree far away, giggling. I ran towards her, but she disappeared again.
“Lucy!” I called.
Someone touched my shoulder. I spun around.
She was standing there, smiling from ear to ear.
Her big, shining eyes looked exactly as I remembered them. Two long braids peeked from under her wool cap, which was still too big for her head. Tears filled my eyes. I reached out to touch her, but she stepped back, shaking her head with a tiny pout. Then she smiled.
“Jas! Just take care of yourself and Mum and Dad, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m happy—this much happy.” She stretched her arms wide.
“And none of this was your fault. Just know I love you the most in the world. Mum and Dad too—but you’re on top.”
She said it proudly. I couldn’t speak. I just stared at her.
“And one last thing—don’t take anything to heart. You can’t shut people up, right? Goodbye, Jas. Bye-bye.”
She waved dramatically like she always used to, smiled brightly, then turned away.
I moved towards her, but she blended into the wind.
I stood there for a long time, feeling the weight on my chest slowly lift.
“I love you the most too,” I whispered.
Then I walked home with a quiet promise to do better—for my parents.
DoubleSpeak 