literature

Invisible

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GrandDuchessIsabelle's avatar
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Literature Text

Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be invisible? Like, when you were younger and someone asked you what superpower you'd want, if you were a superhero. Flying, mind reading, super-strength, invisibility. It sounds cool. Mysterious. You could find out everyone's secrets, uncover evil plots, save the world every day. Everyone would love you. You'd get your own movie, they'd probably write a book about you and every little kid would have a lunchbox with your face on it. Whatever takes your fancy, you'd get it.
Well. Sorry to interrupt the dream moment, but it is nothing  like that. Not at all. Take it from someone who is actually invisible. Yep. Me.

My name is Marie Stevens, if you wanted to know. Which you probably didn't. I am fourteen years old and I am invisible. No joke. When I get up in the morning, I have to check whether or not I still have a reflection in the mirror. But my big sister Eleanor will usually push me out the way before I have a chance to look, so I'm never totally sure, first thing in the morning.
So. Invisibility. Sounds great, right? Wrong. Take a typical day in my life. I get up, take a look in the mirror, as I said, get shoved aside and mooch along to the bathroom to clean my teeth. Then, I'll go downstairs to see if Mum actually made it to bed last night. Mum is a writer and since she got divorced from Dad five years ago, has thrown herself into her work every day. Sometimes it's newspaper articles, sometimes it's those books of a movie they have for little kids, but mostly she will start, but never finish, a novel. Usually, she will be down there, staring at the computer screen when I go down and won't move, even when I offer to make some coffee.
'Mum,' I'd say. 'Mum, do you want a coffee?'
No answer.
'Mum? Mum, it's a Monday, we need to go to school.'
Again, no answer. Like I'm not even there.
So it's usually up to me to see that my younger sister, Charlotte, gets to school on time. Lucky me.
Charlotte is the biggest show off I have ever known. She is nine years old, with big brown eyes and curly dark hair, that she has perfected the art of tossing. She loves pink. Her room is a shrine to the colour. It hurts your eyes just going in to wake her up. When Charlotte wakes up, she has a way of doing it which is a mix between a cat and Sleeping Beauty. She will lazily open her eyes, stretch her arms and gracefully slide out of bed. The princess and her maid.  
After she's dressed, we'll go back to the kitchen for breakfast, where she still won't talk to me.
'What are you doing today, Charl?'
Nothing. She just dances sweet little dances to the songs playing on the radio. Adorable.
We'll say bye to Mum (who will have suddenly regained the ability to talk), and I'll drop Charlotte off at the Primary School, across the road from the High School.
'See you later, Charlotte.'
But she will be off, running to greet her gaggle of little friends, awaiting her arrival like the Queen's ladies wait for their mistress. And I will cross the road and go to school.
At school, I am still invisible. I don't have a best friend, or even very close friends. I hang around with Molly and her lot at breaks, but I get the feeling they don't ever notice me. Well, I never get invited to the cinema or shops with them, anyhow.
I am pretty fair at all lessons, so don't get the attention that the less able people get, or the recognition that the clever people do. I am not good at sports, so am not in any teams, or am good at Drama so I am not in the plays they do in the summer. I've never had a boyfriend. How can I, when every boy I talk to looks straight through me. The only way for teachers or pupils to remember me, is to call me Eleanor Stevens' sister. But is that a good thing? Read on, then make up your mind.
After school, Eleanor, Charlotte and I catch the bus and go to Dad's. After Mum and Dad split up, Dad let Mum keep the house, because she got custody of us, and moved into a Georgian terraced house, not far from Gran and Grandad. We go there for dinner on weekdays to see him and Gran and Grandad, then Mum, who will have gone to Tesco to do the shopping, will pop by to pick us up. At Dad's is the perfect place for Charlotte to do her cutesy act, especially when Gran has brought a friend or two to see us. She will smile and giggle, dance to the fiddle music Grandad plays and talk to Gran's friends about puppies, kittens, cupcakes and anything else she feel like. The old women cluck with delight, pat her on the head  and praise Dad for his charming little daughter. Then the conversation will undoubtedly switch to Eleanor.
Ah, Eleanor. Three years ago, my big sister Eleanor stopped being the perfect daughter, and became a hard core Goth. I'm not joking. She dyed her chestnut hair blue-black, highlighted it purple and orange, chucked out her good-girl floral dresses and New Look jeans and spent all her birthday money on gothic skirts, black eyeliner and ripped fishnets. Attention seeking, that's what Mum called it. A phase, Dad claimed. Eleanor got plenty of attention for her phase, that's for sure. Dad worries about her, Mum worries about her, Gran, Grandad, teachers, they all worry about whether or not she's okay. When Gran quizzes her friends on it, they sigh and chuckle and say, of course she's fine, she's an intelligent girl, isn't she? And Gran will be reassured and walk home smiling. Lovely, isn't it?
Not for me. I am the forgotten middle sister. I don't crave attention like my siblings. I help my Mum. I get reasonable grades. I don't stay out all night, but even if I did, would anyone notice? Could be a good experiment that.
So, what's an invisible girl to do? I'd of thought it was obvious. Find a way to be visible again. Sounds obvious now, doesn't it?
Becoming visible. How should it be done? Audibly? No. Tried that, failed at that. Besides, I expect that the only attention I'd get from yelling into a microphone on top of the school, would be bad. Like, Head Masters office bad. Not audibly then.
How about faking a death or kidnapping, like Shannon Matthews' Mum did? Actually, no. Too much drama and, once again, would probably get me into a lot of trouble.
How am I trying to be visible again, I hear you ask? Alright then, I'll tell you. Visually.
At lunch times, I'll go to the art room at school. I like it there. It has big windows and white walls, covered with the art work of kids from Year 7, all the way up to the A-level students. There are paints, pastels, pencils, canvases, easels and every shade of sugar paper you could ever want. I like the teacher, Miss Anderson, as well. Unlike every other person on this earth, she can see me. To me, it's heaven.
I'm working on a painting. It's a self portrait, in case you were wondering. I've drawn myself, full length, to scale on a rectangular canvas. The background is splattered with paint flicks from the biggest brush I could find: blood red, sunshine yellow, lime green, fluorescent pink, electric blue. Any colour I could find that caught my eye and I couldn't ignore.
Miss Anderson is thrilled with it. She's going to enter it into a national art competition, she told me. She's sure it'll win a prize.
If I'm honest with you though, I'm not interested in a prize, even though money or a cool gadget would be very nice. I'm in it for the recognition. When people see it, they'll think, 'I wonder who painted this.' And there will be my name. 'Marie Stevens,' they'll read.
And there'll be a picture. I know this because I took it myself, on Dads camera.
They'll look at the picture.
Mum'll see me. Dad'll see me. Eleanor, Charlotte, Gran, Grandad, Molly, my teachers, everyone.   
They'll see me.

Invisible? Not for much longer.
This is a story i wrote for my KS3 English Writing assessment last year. I got a level 8, which is not even supposed to be for KS3, I'm guessing i did well.
The main idea was to write a story from the point of view of a homeless person but if you did't want to you could write from another invisible person's view.

Please don't steal.
© 2012 - 2024 GrandDuchessIsabelle
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OTMARomanova's avatar
Yeah, it's a shame there are no comments! This is written amazingly :wow: I even downloaded it on my computer!