Creative Writing: The Homeless House

But the pests were only a fraction of the house problems. Almost everything in the house had a flaw. The porch steps were coming apart, the water pressure was weak; the carpet was so old that it had become stiff; the backyard was a disaster; and when it rained, we were in for a nightmare. There was a large hole in the roof, which means that every time it rained, we had to place buckets all over the house so the interior wouldn’t get wet. My people’s income amounted to nothing. It was a struggle for us to pay our bills as well. Candles and flashlights were always on deck, in case our lights got cut off; like it did once every season. The whole ordeal was ruthless, not being able to see in the dark or not being able to use any of the electricity

Even though I lived in a cracked-out neighborhood, I wasn’t always problematic. But it all happened that year. The bad influences of W.73rd started to corrupt me. It was weeks before my thirteenth birthday and I was becoming curious about what was really out there in the hood. I started hanging out with the kids on my street. The fact of living on W.73rd and attending Joseph M. Gallagher was a ruthless combination. Gallagher was notorious for violence and suspensions. The school was completely out of control. All the rowdy kids from w.73rd attended the school. The security personnel was unable to tame the constant madness transpiring in the hallways on a daily basis. The situation got so out of hand, that news reporters got involved. I still remember as clearly as day watching the hallways of my middle school on the ten o`clock news one night. The images on the screen showed a boy smacking a girl in the hallway and defiant kids roaming all over during class hours. My dad sat there shaking his head in

It was one in the morning on a winter school night. I was lying on the couch right next to the house phone. I was beyond sleepy but I was expecting a phone call from Selena. I intended to answer the phone the second it rings; I didn't want my dad to hear it and wake up. When it finally ranged I snatched it from the receiver. From the caller I.D, I knew it was Selena. “Wussup?” I answered. “Hey, ma. You ready?” “Ummmm…” She noticed my hesitation and reassured me, “You gone be good. Don’t worry. He doesn't live too far” The plan was to walk about six blocks, to her boyfriend’s house, in the middle of the cold night. I had never sneaked out and walked through the hood so late. I was still twelve years old and scared. “You sure we gonna be good?” I asked, doubtful. “Yeah! Meet me on the corner of Lawn and 73rd” and with that, she hung up. I felt uneasy but still managed to put on my boots and coat. My parents were upstairs sleeping like a baby. If my dad would have known that I sneaked out the house he would have hit the ceiling. I shivered outside, as I walked to the corner to meet Selena. “I feel you, ma” Selena explained, noticing my scared face. “Let’s just hurry up and