riragirl
I remembered the day I was on the wooden swing, being gently yet firmly pushed by him. There was a little grunt every time he pushed me higher, nearly into the branches of the tree the swing hung from, but he would insist on continuing to push me. He was fine, he insisted. There was nothing wrong.
Little did I know
The booth was small and dark, causing the insecure girl to feel even smaller. Once the pictures were all taken, most looking nearly identical to the one before due to her constant expression and lack of motivation to make any unique, the strip of photos began to eject out the the machine. She glanced to the boy, or perhaps young man, that waited outside for her pictures to come out, as though hoping that he would be satisfied.
The home which normally seemed quite bright and welcoming throughout the day, seemed to engulf the young woman in darkness. The twenty year old looked towards her brother-in-law, unwanted tears sneaking into the corners of her eyes. Margarette longed for her husband to come and save her from this desperate situation, though she knew that there was no use in wishing or hoping. He would let his brother get away with anything; even this.
The mole quickly disappeared into the ground, never to be seen again. No matter how often the children would search the area behind their grandmother's home, none could find the mole that had originally caught their attention that strange and unique Saturday afternoon.
I was tempted to reach into the jar of cookies, though I knew what would be said if I was discovered. My mother was convinced that I needed to go on a diet, not because of my appearance, but because it was apparently good to live on green sticks she calls food. However, my dad stuck to his habits, as I tried to stick to mine.
I had forgotten what it was like to have the wind pushing against your face like a cat rubbing against your legs. The heart nearly pounding right out of my chest energized my in a different, yet strangely enlightening way. As my hands clutched the metal bar in front of me, after a decade of avoiding these sorts of past adventures, I smiled.
The light glowed in her bag, letting out the final light that would be present for God-knows how long. The small boy clung to his brother's leg, quietly crying as the girl's small light went out.
"I'm scared."
The bones in the xray were clear proof of the breakage under the apparent inflicted wounds.
"We are going to have to perform surgery," the doctor quitely commented as he read over the results. "It is going to need to be soon if we don't want the bones to heal in the wrong places."
The crew loaded the boxes onto the ships, working as quickly as they could to get the boxes boarded on time. It seemed that a superior was intent on leaving at a certain time, and no one was going to prevent their departure.
"I wonder what's in these boxes," one man muttered, tired of the heavy loads. The sun beat on their backs, and the men were sweating endlessly, some beinning to make comments about drowning in their own sweat.
The camp was horrible: nothing like the children expected. As the little ones carried the bricks to where the older children were building a few walls, they remained unaware of how the building being built would soon be used for their imminent doom.
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writing since 2011 · 16 entries · 16 days shown up
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