Hi dudsons,
I apologize for not posting a blog yesterday. I was too busy with homework, that I actually forgot to do the blog. So for this blog, I will post my short story to make up for yesterday's blog. (Don't worry, I will still blog about today's in another blog!) In previous blogs, I have mentioned that my short story didn't live up to my expectations; in other words, I hated it. This story will be dark, but don't worry, it is not based on my life. I just think that it's easier to end off with a death than think of a good ending for a happy story.
So here goes....
A Silly Thought
I was in the shed. The cold, dark
shed, crying. The melodic chirping sound
of chickadees outside contrasted my parents’ riotous arguing in the house. As I cry more and more, I thought I heard
someone say divorce and I cry even more; I don’t want them to divorce. The argument grew more violent and I feared
that someone might be killed, even though I knew that it’s just a really silly and
meaningless thought. My parents knew
better than that.
I was the perfect, funny, girl everyone in school thought I was; but,
there’s another truth behind it. I was
not the perfect little girl everyone thought I was, not even close. I could close my eyes and list a billion ways
why I was the worst miserable soul on earth ever. I had not even told my best friends my true
story, as I feared that they might abandon me.
I just simply wished that I had a family that would support me and love me
unconditionally. I looked and compared
myself to my friend Amber’s family and felt envy. I bet she never got slapped in the head or
even yelled at. Out of all the families
there are out there, I had to be stuck in this one.
My imperfect mom and my imperfect dad clash together so perfectly
sometimes, that I think it’s abnormal that they’ve stayed together all these
years.
My fingers slid over the bruises on my skin I got from being spanked
before I decided to go outside. I dropped
and kneeled on my knees in the shed, praying to god to tell him that he had to
stop my parents. My knees were getting
number as the time lingered on.
My cries reached the whole neighborhood, but nobody stood up that day to
stop my parents. My parents were
infamous and notorious for these fights.
I felt the tears racing down my face, and I watched the tears accumulate
into a tiny puddle on the cold, cement ground.
I glanced sideways after crying for what seemed like one hour, and stared
at the desolate red toolbox sitting on the workbench. My tears blurred up my vision, but I had a
clear sight of what I needed to do. I
didn’t care what others at school would think of me. I was done being the perfect girl others knew
me as. I opened the heavy lid and my
stick-like fingers scrambled for the tool I wanted as I cry. I saw the knife. I used it.
Maybe that’s all it took to end the fighting.
Sometimes the happiest
people you see in life can be wearing a mask… you never know.
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Hopefully, I hope you enjoyed it and I know it's pretty bad, but please do not judge. I pretty much only spent a few hours on this thing.
Hopefully, I hope you enjoyed it and I know it's pretty bad, but please do not judge. I pretty much only spent a few hours on this thing.
--Cyndi Forrest
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