Short Story : My Story

Callie, my best friend said she was going to visit her father. She walks up to the door and is about the ring the doorbell when she notices that the door is cracked open. Why is it open? she asks herself. She pushes open the door slowly.

"I have a feeling they know exactly what we 're going through right now. Maybe that 's why they let us go on this trip. They want to see how responsible we really are."

“Where are you? For the love of God, I’ve been waiting for almost an hour already!” Eunah yelled through the phone as the man he was talking to only laughed apologetically.

It is a brisk summer day at Porretto Beach in Galveston, Texas. I, Casila, lay in the sand with my luxurious dark black hair spread out, hidden in the the sand. No matter how much the scalding heat bothers me, I do not dare enter the water. I lost my mother to the water not a year after I was born. I lost my brother fifteen years later to fire coral, which lives in the water. Now, twenty-three years after my mother’s death, I still live in fear.

“You don’t understand.” Marta had heard Maria whisper, as Fernando pushed her back to see her puffy red face. Marta’s hands had started sweating as a wave of heat enveloped her. She’d felt her eyes widen. Maria had never opposed anything Fernando said.

As my brother and I are what feels to be entrapped in our own room, I lean my ear on the door to understand what’s happening. As I lean on I can hear a soft ,yet faint whimper coming from my mother as my father tries to talk to her. I relay this information to my brother, hoping he had any idea on what was going on. Sadly, neither of us knew what we did or what went wrong.

It all started back in April, My friend Chanel began to mess with someone she had no business messing with. From there she knew she shouldn't be messing with this dude once she started to find out more about him. It was all kept from another friend and I because she felt ashamed and embarrassed to tell us. What in your everlasting mind would think this is okay. We didn't end up finding out until about 3 months later.

I woke up to my alarm clock playing a random song from my playlist, like it does on any typical school morning. Just like any other typical school morning, I hit the snooze button four or five times before my Mom has to come and drag me out of bed. Her way of waking me up is turning on my desk lamp so that it shines right in my face. I get up, dragging half of my blankets along draped over my back. I slip on my fuzzy slippers and slowing stomp down the stairs.

My mother destroyed her life with addiction but it would be a mistake to say I did not grasp the immense love in her actions. Throughout her turmoil, I began to appreciate the conduct of person rather than their words. I've received a phantom of a father, his words appear on Facebook timeline: _Merry Christmas to my kids and My Grandson. Dad Loves You and Miss You_. I can be honest and say his quick intention is to shroud the immense absence, the unfulfilling yet continually provoking hole, that he has given our family. I've taken action to fill that hole that has inured our family for too long.

I was tired of my parents telling me what to do. I couldn’t live like that. Not anymore. As I sat on my bed, I heard a knock on the door. My parents came in, and they told me to get in bed. It was the last time I was being ordered around. They tucked me in.

My life wasn’t always so phony and insubstantial. I had a life once , a real one, but I threw it away for the “better” make-believe version. Now here I am, standing on the ledge, with no parachute to catch me in my decent. Staring down into the vaporous abyss that is, my ticket out. All I have to do is leap, and gravity will carry out the rest.

“Abby, Abby get up, get up” My younger sister, Kate, squealed while bouncing up and down. I shot up out of my warm sleeping bag to feel a rush of fresh morning air surround me.

My story begins in London, England. I have two parents who seem to form an oxymoron, because even from a young age I could tell that they were the complete opposites from each other. I vividly recall living with my school friend for around a week and wondering what I had done to deserve such a fantastic vacation. When I was finally allowed to return to my parents, I did not return to the apartment I was familiar with, but a duplex house with another family I had never met before. It was much later in life, through discussion with my parents, that I learned that we were evicted. This kind of financial struggle has followed me all throughout my life. There has only ever been enough revenue to make sure our stomachs are full and to pay the bills. Afterwards, barely anything. However, these struggles have taught me that money is not happiness. In my house, there was and still is, consistent laughter. The oxymoron made it known that they loved me, no matter what the circumstance may have been. They taught me that family is important; life is can never terrible when family is there. I vowed that when I have my family, I would work as hard as I can to maintain happiness at home because happiness is the greatest medicine, the healer of all ailments.

I hear several loud bangs while I sleep. I soon realize my mom is knocking on my bedroom door. Confused, I get up to unlock and open my door. I immediately notice that my mom is crying. My mom says, “We have to go, grandpa is dying.” She can barely get the last three words out. My heart drops. I initially think I’m dreaming but I soon realize this is very real. I instantly get dressed, when I walk out to the kitchen my mom is waiting. We leave for the hospital.

First of all I was born in Peoria, IL November 11, 2004 we have 6 people in my family, my brother Michael my two sisters Erica and Rebecca and my parents Mike and Judy. I have a funny story when my brother michael was born, my dad drove down a one way street. Anyway back to my story growing up I loved baseball and any sports I could play really. I was really active as a child and would get my hands on anything I could even If that means pulling a 100 dollar bill out of my mom's purse. Growing up I didn't really like school that much I really just wanted to explore or play. But I am really glad I went to kindergarten because if I didn't I wouldn't of met a lot of my friends. But then came 1st grade I didn't really expect 1st grade to be fun but surprising it really was. 2nd and 3rd grade was probably the most fun. Because we got to do a to of parties and it was super fun. And even in 4th grade we go to do a pilgrim experience which was really fun. We got to bring our own snacks which was awesome but the only thing that was not good was for the boys we had to wear a dress up shirt which was really hot in the room. And another awesome thing we got to do in grade school was go on really cool field trips. Like tanners orchard and lincoln's old house. But from 4th grade to 5th grade was really weird because there was a bunch of people who I didn't know. And for the