Last one for tonight, thanks for reading! Please give me your feedback!
I used to play up in the loft of the old Mink shed. I'd climb up the rickety stairs and play with all the old toys I had found up there, read the old books and write on the walls because I was allowed to. My neighbor's name was Hank and he had a daughter named Rose and she'd come and play with me too, she had a cat named Ginger and it was white and silver, with green eyes and it chased the pesky red squirrels that were often in the loft and she killed them.
We were eight and the Mink shed was our home. My dad drank too many bottles of beer and stepped in the wrong door, and my mom spent her days in the kitchen cooking and talking to her bird, and my dad that was not there. Rose's dad- Hank was nice, he brought us candy and sometimes new toys to play with and he took us for nature walks. One day Hank died from a heart attack and Rose was supposed to live with us since Hank had no relatives and Roses mom died when Rose was born. We only had two rooms and two beds, and my dad already slept on the couch the only couch, so Rose slept with me in my bed and we held hands at night while my mom and dad screamed.
One night when we were both ten, my dad drank too many glasses of whiskey and told us we weren't allowed to sleep in the house and dragged us out by our hair and said we were on our own. We stood outside, cold, in our pajamas and slippers and my mom sat on the couch watching us shiver and cry. I held Rose and Ginger rubbed her body along our legs and purred and Rose picked her up and buried her tears in her silver coat. We walked to the old Mink shed, it was cold and the floors were hard. We listened to the squirrels run through the walls and Rose cried as I clung to her shirt.
We stayed up counting the footsteps of the squirrels all night, as we watched our breath turn to ice. We peered out the window all morning, Roses green eyes teary and soft, mine blue and cold and hard. I saw my dad tumble out the door of our house, and he looked up to the loft in the Mink shed. His eyes sharp and wrong, he was drunk and crazed, I ducked down and my heart started to beat out of my chest, Rose cowered under me and even though we'd never been to church we prayed to God and our tears froze to our cheeks. I prayed that the squirrels I feared so much all night would guard us from my father, but they wouldn't, they would run just as we wish we could have. I heard the door swing open, and Rose and I froze our bodies did not shake and we did not whimper. My father hollered out for Rose and he stormed up the stairs, my eyes widened as my father ripped me off of Rose. His eyes dark black, "Carrie, I told you to leave damn it!" and he grabbed my arm, so hard I felt it pop and I screamed and he told me to shut up.
My feet could not move fast enough down the stairs and my eyes cried so rapidly I could not see, he flung me out the door, my shoulder throbbed with pain. He stood on the steps to the Mink shed and stared at me smiling, and in a low sarcastic tone he spoke "I told you, you little bitch, to get the fuck out off of my property!" my voice stayed in my stomach I swallowed the pain of my shoulder as he turned and walked back into the shed. I heard him calmly walk up the steps, I heard Rose scream. I sat outside, cold on the snow, my clothes wet, and I listened to Rose scream, over and over and over again and again, until I couldn't breathe anymore, until I had cried so much that my cheeks were frozen to the touch. Then it stopped.
It was quiet and then I heard Rose, crying; the walls were thin and I heard my father walking down the stairs. I quickly got up and ran into the woods and hid, he scanned the forest and walked back the house, tripping in the deep snow banks. I ran back into the shed, my shoulder throbbing and I saw Rose, sitting in the corner her face bloody, her pajamas ripped, her hair torn, she didn't look at me. We never went back to the mink shed, and my father never let us back in the house, my mother never pleaded with him. Rose carried the scars with her, on her right cheek. We slept outside under a blue tarp, and Rose never spoke again.
I used to play up in the loft of the old Mink shed. I'd climb up the rickety stairs and play with all the old toys I had found up there, read the old books and write on the walls because I was allowed to. My neighbor's name was Hank and he had a daughter named Rose and she'd come and play with me too, she had a cat named Ginger and it was white and silver, with green eyes and it chased the pesky red squirrels that were often in the loft and she killed them.
We were eight and the Mink shed was our home. My dad drank too many bottles of beer and stepped in the wrong door, and my mom spent her days in the kitchen cooking and talking to her bird, and my dad that was not there. Rose's dad- Hank was nice, he brought us candy and sometimes new toys to play with and he took us for nature walks. One day Hank died from a heart attack and Rose was supposed to live with us since Hank had no relatives and Roses mom died when Rose was born. We only had two rooms and two beds, and my dad already slept on the couch the only couch, so Rose slept with me in my bed and we held hands at night while my mom and dad screamed.
One night when we were both ten, my dad drank too many glasses of whiskey and told us we weren't allowed to sleep in the house and dragged us out by our hair and said we were on our own. We stood outside, cold, in our pajamas and slippers and my mom sat on the couch watching us shiver and cry. I held Rose and Ginger rubbed her body along our legs and purred and Rose picked her up and buried her tears in her silver coat. We walked to the old Mink shed, it was cold and the floors were hard. We listened to the squirrels run through the walls and Rose cried as I clung to her shirt.
We stayed up counting the footsteps of the squirrels all night, as we watched our breath turn to ice. We peered out the window all morning, Roses green eyes teary and soft, mine blue and cold and hard. I saw my dad tumble out the door of our house, and he looked up to the loft in the Mink shed. His eyes sharp and wrong, he was drunk and crazed, I ducked down and my heart started to beat out of my chest, Rose cowered under me and even though we'd never been to church we prayed to God and our tears froze to our cheeks. I prayed that the squirrels I feared so much all night would guard us from my father, but they wouldn't, they would run just as we wish we could have. I heard the door swing open, and Rose and I froze our bodies did not shake and we did not whimper. My father hollered out for Rose and he stormed up the stairs, my eyes widened as my father ripped me off of Rose. His eyes dark black, "Carrie, I told you to leave damn it!" and he grabbed my arm, so hard I felt it pop and I screamed and he told me to shut up.
My feet could not move fast enough down the stairs and my eyes cried so rapidly I could not see, he flung me out the door, my shoulder throbbed with pain. He stood on the steps to the Mink shed and stared at me smiling, and in a low sarcastic tone he spoke "I told you, you little bitch, to get the fuck out off of my property!" my voice stayed in my stomach I swallowed the pain of my shoulder as he turned and walked back into the shed. I heard him calmly walk up the steps, I heard Rose scream. I sat outside, cold on the snow, my clothes wet, and I listened to Rose scream, over and over and over again and again, until I couldn't breathe anymore, until I had cried so much that my cheeks were frozen to the touch. Then it stopped.
It was quiet and then I heard Rose, crying; the walls were thin and I heard my father walking down the stairs. I quickly got up and ran into the woods and hid, he scanned the forest and walked back the house, tripping in the deep snow banks. I ran back into the shed, my shoulder throbbing and I saw Rose, sitting in the corner her face bloody, her pajamas ripped, her hair torn, she didn't look at me. We never went back to the mink shed, and my father never let us back in the house, my mother never pleaded with him. Rose carried the scars with her, on her right cheek. We slept outside under a blue tarp, and Rose never spoke again.