Young Writers Society

It all started when the first bomb went off in 1952. I was only 15 years old, and I was living with my five year old sister, Susan, and my 16 year old brother, John. To us, an old, run down orphanage was our home. Even though John was older than me, I was still almost a foot taller, and we had been mistaken for twins many times before. When my sister was three years old, John and I were over at my neighbor's house when a man killed our parents. He was dressed from head to toe in dark pink. All I can remember from that day is John crying and screaming, “Robert they’re gone!” We never found our parents, or their murderer. All that was left was a pink star on the wall, written with spray paint.

“No, John, they ain’t gone!” I couldn’t sleep that night, and neither could John. With all that horror permanently screwed in our minds we cried throughout the rest of the night. Our parents were gone. No they weren’t. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was saying they are, but my mouth is saying they’re not. I kneeled down next to Susan. I told her,

“Susan listen to me.” I repeated this a couple of times until she was at least a little quiet, so I knew she could listen to me. I whispered to her gently like mama used to do.

“I will never leave you Susan.” She whimpered and told me to promise. I promised. I tried to leave, but she started to cry again. I knelt down and made myself comfortable on the concrete floor. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the floor even though I was still depressed and confused. I woke up many times during the night to myself crying, Susan screaming, John breathing heavy, and I was just so uncomfortable but I stayed by Susan the whole night. I made a vow to myself that night. I vowed to find the murderer in pink.

We still had our parents house, but not for long. They kicked us out in the first month for not paying our monthly bills. I turned on the news as soon as I saw the light of day to hear that all over the country people wearing dark pink bodysuit type outfits, complete with a dark pink mask, dark pink spray paint, and other deadly weapons all dark pink. These odd and mysterious people have been murdering innocent people in creepy and disturbing ways like cutting people into pieces and dying their bones dark pink, and even cutting off their jaw and making them eat pink paint. they don’t seem to have much variation when it comes to colors, but they do with killing.

We started living on the streets left to fend for ourselves, but that was a while ago. I’m not good with time, but it has been probably more than a cycle of one year, maybe two. John is now eighteen, I am seventeen and Susan is five. I know it doesn’t sound good, but John and I beat people up for money. It was the only way to feed our starving sister. I mean if we didn’t, we would not have a chance at even living. Everyday we would run from the police and steal from stores just to survive. I feel bad but there is no choice. We got a lot of exercise though because we found a football at the park. We took turns tossing it to Susan and she enjoyed it. I could see happiness in her for once in a long time.

One day, an old woman walked up to us and asked if we wanted to live in the orphanage and get a free bed and food. This particular orphanage has a bad past because it used to be a jail. I mean it would be better there than being dead rats on the streets. Right? The strange woman was super sketchy, only wearing a dark pink raincoat and muddy jeans with holes in them. We packed into a crowded wagon full of other kids, one of them was our neighbor Nellie. Kids were crying and asking where their parents were. It was a really long and loud ride. When we got there I thought my eardrums had withered away. It was time to eat and I was so hungry but I wish I wasn’t. We were given rations which consisted of beans and gross coffee.

“This is yucky,” Susan would always say. And it really was. We were always getting sick, but we had to eat it or else we would starve. Even when we did get it down, it came right back up an hour later. All that we wanted was a better life, but we knew we were far from it. Kids were always vomiting, there was no carpet but that basically was a carpet.

The woman that brought us to the orphanage said that we would have to go to school there. None of us had ever gone to school, and we really didn’t want to start going now. We tried to argue, telling her that mama said we didn’t have to go to school, but she wouldn’t listen to us. And even though she never actually said it out loud, I could almost hear her saying, Mama isn’t here anymore, now is she.

“Attention boys and girls, school starts now in the main room.” Where is that, I thought. I asked around and got and answer. I was trying to take charge even though John was older than me. He hasn’t said much since the night it happened, but at least he is still here. I held Susan close as John and I led the way. I didn’t know much about math or writing, but I sure knew that I would never break that promise I had vowed to Susan that night long ago. We dodged beds and other kids belongings until we reached the door. I don’t think I’ve seen so many depressed kids in my life. Some were crying, some refused to talk, and some of the kids even tried to jump out the window. There was one bench for kids who couldn’t walk but the rest of us had to sit on the greasy floor. At this point I noticed everyone was watching us. What are you looking at, I wanted to say. I realized they were all wearing the same clothes, but we haven’t changed since we got here. Your lucky, I said to them in my head.

I hope that Susan, John, and I make it out of here sometime.