Young Writers Society

The pebbles on the ground fly as I sweep them around with me shoe. It’s late, almost too late for me to be outside sprinting around the woods. I don’t care though, this is my time to just relax and think things over…my time. This is the only time when I am not bothered. No sirens from police cars going off in the distance or the sound of yelling coming from my father. His obnoxious attitude drives me to the point of running away…running away to nowhere. Anywhere else is better than home despite what people say about “there’s no place like home.” Obviously you don’t live with me. He’s always drunk or sobbing over the past, taking out all his anger on me, his daughter…the only person who will love him no matter what. That’s not enough for him though; he wants more, a lot more.

I’ve given him everything I can, I’ve supported him when he most needed it, and now I am just like dirt to him and nothing more. Nothing more, to him I am simply another person who lives in the same house. I don’t even remember the last time he’s called me sweetheart or all the other cute nicknames he use too before my mother died. I am forced to work on my enjoyable weekends that I use to love to help pay for our house. I am never able to attend parties or homecoming because I have to work. I can never do what I want. I do have stuff to be grateful for though. I have shelter unlike unlucky people; I have food unlike those who suffer day and night. I have clothes that keep me warm during the harsh winters. Most importantly I have dreams that things will get better, I hope.

The cool wind from the shore not far away blows against my cheeks as I stand at a standstill. My hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that sways with the wind. The trees have gotten thicker and the light from the sun that use to rain upon the earth feeding warmth to every living thing has faded away. The moon has risen casting a low visible glow upon us. I hear the sounds of crickets buzz all around me, the firefly’s spring to life dancing with the wind as they fly somewhere off into the unknown. The unknown, quite scary when you think of it, you never know what lies beyond the darkness, especially in the forest. Many times have explorer’s gone places many people thought was impossible. Impossible is a big word though, people thought going to the moon was impossible. It wasn’t. My eyes start to adjust to the dark; I am able to see my surroundings much better now.

In my hand held onto oh so tightly, the leather journal I’ve brought with me. The last thing my mother ever bought me is this. The leather journal that keeps my thoughts, the only place I can express my feelings without feeling rejected by society. The only place where I can doodle and not be in trouble, every thought that has ever plagued my mind is here, sad or happy and maybe even mad, each and every thought is written down for only me and no one else to see, tonight’s subject, Allen Dunmore, the hottest guy at school. Lately I’ve been getting mixed signals from him, winks, smiles, hugs. Almost everything you could think of that signals that something is up. That maybe one day, I’ll finally have someone else to love, someone who will love me back no matter what. What If I’m looking in the wrong place though, not necessarily the wrong place but the wrong person?

I mean come on; it’s cliché for the girl who doesn’t do cheerleading to fall in love with the hottest guy in school right. You see it in almost every movie on the market today, even in books. Then again almost everything is cliché now. Something about Allen seems different though, he’s a lot more interactive with me. In the past we never use to talk; now we speak almost every day. I love every moment of it though so I can’t complain. He just seems different. The most attractive features about him, his black wavy hair, and the muscles that show threw his tight shirts, those amazing green eyes that remind me of silky smooth grass. I could honestly eat him up! I am nothing special though. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, I am about five six, all the right curves. I wear glasses rarely do I wear contacts. I dress regular, not like most girls you see with short shorts and miniskirts with shirts to tight. No, for me its jeans and maybe a shirt with a cartoon on it, I wear sneakers instead of high heels. My hair most of the time is in a ponytail. Simple stuff don’t you think?

I get up from the broken branch that I’ve been sitting on and begin my walk back home. Sadly my father will probably be drunk when I get back; it hurts me to know that he is slowly killing himself. The amount of alcohol he drinks is substantial, too much for his liver to handle. If he continues to go the way he is going, he will most likely not make it to his forty seventh birthday, but is that a relief for me? Will I truly miss him, or will I be better off without him? I’ll always remember though the person he use to be. The dad that always walked me home from the bus stop, the dad who took me every Wednesday to the ice cream parlor. I just wish he didn’t change.

Losing my mother was something huge for the both of us. I suffered anxiety for months, I couldn’t sleep during storms. I was completely destroyed, only pieces of me remained. Slowly though the pieces glued themselves back together, I was reborn. My father wasn’t. Collecting beer bottles became a hobby, and drinking was always on the schedule for him…still is. Drugs also became a major factor in his life; I guess it was a way of dealing with his demon…depression. Never has he showed physical aggression toward me, not physically at least. Verbally is a different subject, I've been called every degrading word you can think of. He’s even come up with words he created himself.

The same dirt path that leads to my house comes in plain few, in twenty eight short steps I’ll be at the front door in no time. The same wooden house, the same dirt road, the same drunk man who inhabits it…the same everything. My house is nothing special, it’s old; it makes weird sounds when you walk on the boards, it leaks when the storms come. It has three upper windows on both sides of the house. One side with the windows open and the other closed. It has an attic coming out of the roof with a window that leads to darkness. The front door stands in the middle of the house, with two windows on each side. The wood is painted in a light blue sort of color. Our grass, if you can call it that, nearly dirt covers our front lawn. We have some small trees in the front that I planted awhile back; it’s your traditional American four square.

We are the only isolated house in the small town of Clover Springs, Michigan, population two hundred and forty nine. Never passing those numbers, two hundred forty nine, maybe someday something will change in my life…someday something will change. My eyes focus on the golden handle to the door, all I have to do is twist it and the door will swing open. All I have to do is open the door to cause havoc. How many more days will I keep up with him? The door opens inward as I hear the voices talking from the TV. My feet won’t move, there paralyzed in place, afraid to go inside. I’m scared; I don’t want to keep living here with him. I have to move, I need to do something, and I take a step forward as the wooden floor makes a cracking sound.

The voices stop as soon as the wooden boards make a sound. I hear the recliner adjust and footsteps walking toward the front of the house. I close the door behind me, slip off my shoes and tip toe toward the stairs. The footsteps are getting closer and heavier, I can hear him stumbling as he walks. Occasionally bumping into things, he’s closer now than before. I’m only a few steps away from the stairs when I feel it. His arm come across my shoulder, I stop as if I’ve seen a ghost. I can hear him breathing heavily. “Where have you been you little skunk? You think I didn’t notice, lady you must think I’m stupid or something.” I roll my eyes as I turn around to face him. His eyes are having a hard time staying open; he loses his balance and tumbles toward the wall catching himself with his arm. “I…I was out in the forest, of course you wouldn't care though would you” His face starts to wrinkle up as his muscles form to make a mean expression, then he laughs. “Why don’t you just move along toward the kitchen and fix me up something to eat before I beat your little butt.”

I want to laugh knowing that he probably couldn't hurt anybody even if he wanted too. He’s too drunk and tired right now to do anything; in fact he’s most vulnerable right now. I could do anything I want to him without having to worry about him responding with aggression. I turn around and walk up the stairs not caring to look back to see what he’s doing. “You are no good just like your damn mother was, maybe you deserve to be dead also huh?” I feel a rush of energy come out of nowhere, I turn around to face him and slowly start walking down the stairs. I want to cry so badly, but that would show him I am weak. That I cannot stand up for myself. “How could you say something like that? My own father, please I can’t believe my mother married someone like you. Why can’t you just get over the fact that she’s gone alright? No matter how much you drink and scream she’s not coming back…she’s gone.”

I pause for a minute giving him time to think about what I just said, giving him time to think of something smart to say back to me. “Why, because you are the reason she’s gone. If it wasn’t for your damn crying she wouldn’t have ran into oncoming traffic. God damn it Aulani your nothing but a curse, and I’m stuck with you.” My hand moves up toward his face, palm at the ready. I thrust my hand forward slapping him with my palm; his face sends waves in every direction from the impact. I turn around and run up the stairs, quickly turning down the hall toward my room. I grasp the handle push my door open and shut it before he reaches the top step.

My door begins to shake violently as he presses his body against it trying to break it open, I sit down cornering myself behind my desk hoping he goes away. His screaming only gets louder, I can’t think straight with all the noise. I’m unsure what to do. Finally the shaking stops and I hear him retreat to downstairs. Each step he takes sounds like an elephant walking down the flight. I get up from the corner and sit down on a chair that is in front of the desk. I lay my notebook down in front of me and open it up toward the back. The pages fly across my eyes one at a time until I reach the spot where I want to be. A half undone picture of a women takes up most of the page. I grab a pencil to my left and continue from where I left off.

She’s wearing a blue double row buttons dress with yellow buttons and a black full sleeve under shirt beneath. Her eyes are blue like mine, her expression tells a story. She’s sad because her life was messed up; her shining armor left a long time ago, leaving her to deal with anger and sadness. In a way she’s almost like me, expect I didn’t lose my knight and shining armor, I don’t even have that yet. I begin to use a red pencil to color in hair. She will be a redhead unlike me. I want to make her as different as I possibly can.

My desk sits up against a wall from the right hand part of my room aside from the bed. My desk is completely white expect for a few parts such as the row of cabinets that make up the foot on the left side of my desk. To the right the desk is connected with a bookshelf complete with all kinds of books written by various authors. Whoever thought about combining a bookshelf with a desk is truly a brilliant man. I close my notebook in fear of finishing my drawling, I don’t want her to be finished yet. I have many more features that may later come to think of.

Girl abused by father, father drunkard, mother dead, likes handsome guy at school, a normal girl.

Pretty much a summary of this (A rather poor one, as I'm sure you'd agree).

Even though I've seen this many times (Both in print and online), this theme is growing on me. You may not have changed much from what I remember, but the small changes you have made have made it more unique. For this you are to be commended.

Your store of vocabulary is commendable, and from what I can tell, the grammar, spelling and punctuation are fine except for a few parts, but they are quite minor.

It has a rather melancholic feel to it, what with the girl being abused by her father, losing her mother, etc. , and it is what attracts me to it. You have created an environment in the story, in which a girl, presumably teenage, always thinks of the world that could be. Especially when you described the man the father was before. It is rather pitiful, yet one cannot fully ignore the verbal abuse.

You have written quite a promising piece here, and I hope you can write more of this. Good effort!

Im new to this site and this is the first chapter ive read out of anything here, I must say the details you wrote make the reader sink into the story and love the character. What i have to say is, nice work, even if its not much coming from me.