A Short Story : A Story?

It was a cold and foggy wednesday morning on june 10th. Hunter was sleeping on his bed when he heard his mom call him.

*Slam*. The door shuts. The room was silent, you could hear a pin drop. Leah left and I heard the car start up. We’ve never gotten in a fight like this. Tears started streaming down my face. The tears started streaming down my face harder and harder by the second. AGHHHHH I screamed. I slowly got up from the table the chair squeaking making the same sound it made when Leah left. WOOSH. I think that was the fastest I’ve EVER turned around. I saw a small shadow. Nobody else was home. but there was still a shadow? I walked around the corner…nothing. I ran upstairs and WOOSH again. I checked my bedroom and Leah’s bedroom. There was nothing in there.

I sat up and let out a gigantic yawn as I stretched my arms and legs. My body had felt as if I had slept in a box all night and was taking my first step out. I pulled my soft pink blanket up to my chin and wrapped it around me tightly. That was when I heard the scream and, nevertheless, the sound of my name followed. “Haylee. Haylee. Hurry downstairs. It’s Kassi.” I threw my blanket down and let it fall to the floor. I rushed down the stairs and saw my sister in just a Pull-Up, and on her knees crying for help. I pushed everyone to the side so I could grab her. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes, tears rolling down her face. That was when I saw the gash in her right eyebrow. It wasn’t like a tiny scrape you get when you fall, but it looked like she had a hole right above her eye. The

Outside as I lean onto the rugged, worn down wall I can see her scarlet dripping face clouded with never-ending tears. My hands are frosted from the trembling weather, and my tears have blocked the sound of cars and smell of firewood. It’s only been three days, yet the feeling of being alone in such a big world has filled us with angst. My mom is right in front of me, through the fogged over window I’m gazing in. She has somehow found a way to fill an empty house with dread, which overbears the silence and covers up the scent of vanilla from the bile filling her mouth. Her pain fills me with dread as I taste the freezing sap from the window seal and catch a slight smell of the pine trees that surround us.

How did she lose every glimpse of hope in their life? What made her throw in the towel and decide life was too much? When did a drug become more important than us? Did we ask to be brought into this world? These questions were running rampant through my mind, like a stampede of buffalo moving across the plains. I bet she’d have a reason to binge, if I asked her these questions. Our mom left us again this morning to go find food. I know what that really means, but the truth was too painful to fathom at this moment. I needed to get my sister of this filthy sidewalk and find a more discrete home for the night. “Lily, let’s get out of here little one.” She sluggishly rose up with a sad look in her eyes. The poor girl is only four, she’s too young and too tired, but it’s all she knows. She grabbed my hand tightly and we headed out on our aimless walk down the littered streets.

"What do we do?" I asked and then remembered what the old man said earlier, "There's nothing here for your friend. I gulped and said to Joseph, "You know Pan's secret. There's no life for you here now. Maybe we could fit you in the boat, and I could somehow ration out the pixie dust and we could go to London together, and start ov-"

In a sewer line beneath a neighborhood street, Walther stopped at a non-descript wall. His sudden change aroused Chandler’s curiosity. “So this is the place, right?”

Wyatt hurried to gather his clothes before heading to the shower to get the sweat off. He dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark blue t-shirt since his uniform is at the police station. Once his red and white Nike shoes on, he immediately headed out the room and down the stairs to the lobby. Wyatt rushed to his truck and started it. He peeked at the time on the dashboard which read six thirty am causing him to frown. He’s late on his first day. He needed to be at the station for six thirty because of the briefing before the shift starts.

“You can’t be serious.” She looked at me for a moment, “Oh my gosh. You’re serious.” She paused, then added, “You’re insane!”

“Got it!” She muttered, nudging the door open. Perfect, everything was going according to plan… was. As soon as the door opened wide enough to step in, an earsplitting siren went off.

“Hannah drove her to the doctor,” Shaw told him. “She needed something to help her relax.”

“Mmm. Pardon. My coffee . . .” She pressed the mute key, cleared her throat, and unmuted. “Please, excuse me.” What was this dribble on her keyboard? Latte drool. Mortified, she wiped her shirt over her chin. At least, he couldn’t see her.

All of a sudden she said “Leave. I have to get rest, and you might get sick, Leave!”

The putrid purple of old bruises gleamed helplessly against the limpid replacements— it was all my fault.

Most people who’d undergone pain would say that going home after an incident would be the worst part, having to deal with the aftermath of their emotional outbursts and what was happening. Vivian, however, felt nothing as she walked. The cold wind was biting through her, and she could sense that rain was coming nearby, mainly due to the odd twinge in the air that she’d learned to avoid having a delicate instrument with her at all times. Yet now she walked through the streets alone, each step pressing on the cold stones underneath her and making her that much more worried as to what she was going to do.