RandomEllie1
Stories (3/0)
April Fools
The town's water was yellow. Every well, pond and creek featured bright yellow water. The townsfolk were in shock, the water had been normal yesterday, clear and fresh. Beatrice fetched a jug of milk from the cold cellar to drink after finding the water in her own well was yellow. Her thirst quenched, she headed outside again to begin the days' tasks.
By RandomEllie13 years ago in Futurism
Last Straw
The crash of a glass shattering woke me up. I climbed out of bed and padded out of the small bedroom I shared with my half-sisters. The kitchen was at the other end of the short hallway. There was no door, the yelling and screaming echoed through the house. Mum and Dad were fighting again, shouting words that my four-year-old brain couldn't understand. Money, drugs, bills, budget, none of these things had meaning for me. The yelling was scary. They were throwing things at each other, the kitchen table between them. Our parents fighting was normal, as was moving house every six months or so because Dad couldn't keep a job. I stood silently in the doorway, watching them with wide eyes and a pounding heart, unable to interfere or go back to bed. Shards of glass and porcelain lay scattered on the plain wooden floorboards, twinkling in the light of the dim bulb in the ceiling. I felt a presence at my side and looked down. My younger sister was standing beside me, gazing into the kitchen. I covered her eyes with my hands, wanting to shield her from the violence. Dad's older daughter was staying with her mother in the city. The scrape of wood on wood drew my attention back to the kitchen and I saw Dad in the act of shoving the table at Mum. It collided with her stomach, forcing her backwards into the wall. She was bent over, hands against the edge of the table, shock and pain on her face. A gasp escaped me, a mixture of terror and concern. Dad turned and spotted us. His eyes, already glaring furiously, narrowed even more and he screamed at us to get out and go back to bed. I grabbed my sister's hand and half-dragged her down the hallway to our room, where we huddled together on my bed with the blankets over our heads.
By RandomEllie14 years ago in Families
Outburst
The door behind me shakes with every blow, sending shock waves through the dressing table and my back. Tears of fear and hatred run down my face while near-silent sobs wrack my body. Every blow is accompanied by an order OPEN THIS DOOR, or an insult WORTHLESS USELESS NO-GOOD FAT LAZY UNGRATEFUL, or a threat of what will happen once the door is open, when there is nothing between me and my assailant. My fingers dig into my skin, I'm staring at the window across the small room. Promising myself this is the last time. When it's over, I'll run away. Open the window, take off the screen, climb out and never come back. I rake my fingernails down my face, wanting to rip the flesh from my bones, drain my body of blood...her blood. My mother. The cause of my pain and fear. When I was younger I had reprieves from her moods. I stayed with grandparents, aunts, my younger sister's dad... Now I'm a teenager. We live further away from family, my sister's dad scared me away with his own temper, I am trapped. I hate going out, my weight draws cruel attention from others and my self-esteem is low from a lifetime of harsh words and almost no emotional support.
By RandomEllie14 years ago in Psyche