The ear wrenching sound of crying and fighting is lingering in the air. There is no one here, it is lightless and cold. Emptiness fills the house completely. All of the pictures are off the walls, the TV is gone, house is a mess. The tears are getting held back by all of the pain in my chest. The hair on my arms stand up and goosebumps begin head to toe. Tears slowly drop, it feels like there is a hole in my heart. She's gone, she moved, everything is gone. The feeling of disbelief gathers inside. This can't be real, is this a dream? We pack up the truck and we leave to go see her. The truck pulls into an old blue rigged house and there she is looking out the window. I'm still shocked that she has left. The door creeks open loudly and there
I thought I was going to leave empty handed until I spotted the stack of boxes in the far left corner. There was a small wooden box on the top labeled David Walker with black sharpie. This is it. I thought. I sprinted out of the attic holding the box in one hand and the ladder in the other. Out of breath, I plopped down onto my bed, sitting with my legs crossed and the box out in front of me. Answers… Please give me answers. I thought as I opened the box. Inside held a picture of a man with dark skin and short black hair. I assumed this was my father. In his arms was my mother. They were both smiling uncontrollably as if it was the best day of their lives. What went wrong… I thought. Underneath was a black journal, tied shut with a thick string. I lifted it out of the box, untied the string, and began to read the
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
It is a Tuesday night in San Marcos Texas, it is a bit chilly outside as I walk up and down the square looking for a section of bars I can observe. As I walked East on Hopkins street I stumbled upon two bars, Harpers Brick Oven Sports Pub and The Porch. Both bars were packed with what looked like a mix of native San Marcos residents, and college students. These two bars shed light on what the square is; a welcoming place with a carefree atmosphere for all people who call San Marcos home to enjoy.
Before, I could even take note, it was already October. It was time for me to pack everything in my room, and say my final goodbyes to my family members. I was going to leave everything that meant a lot to me behind. Previously, before October, we picked up my dad from the airport so that he could help us load all of our belongings to the U-Haul truck. Lily, ‘my cousin’, (we aren’t related, she is just a very close friend who I consider family) was staying with use because she want to see her father, who was also living in Denver. My mom and dad, sister, uncle, cousin, and I all stayed at the house one last night. I remember that my sister said that all her friends gathered around my mom’s car to wave goodbye to her. Her closest friends got very emotional and they started to cry. Not only did the move affect me, it also affected my sister greatly. It was like someone had given her a punch in the stomach. By the next day, we had everything in the U-Haul truck, and it was time for me to leave my precious Vegas behind. We had now started the drive to
The book never really says who is giving Ed the ace of spades cards. I have two predictions. One prediction is his ma. She has always wanted Ed to do something with his life. Right now he is a 19 year old taxi driver which is illegal nonetheless. First Ed never listens to her. “I’ll just tell her that Dickhead Ed forgot to pick up my coffee table.”(Markus 28). He is never on time to any activity except poker nights with his friends. Ed also mostly helps woman in New York City. His ma can relate to how these woman feel. When one of the cards come in it has “The Stones of Home” as the address. Only Ed’s family called one building in picticular that name. The Stones of Home is a place Ed and his brother tommy went for refuge. The stones are a
I walk into the house, Dad is on the phone. I am just getting home from an amazing time at my friend Dimitri’s house. I look at my dad’s face and notice something is wrong, he looks up at me and makes throat cut motion; “Torae is dead”. Daniel, my best friend in the world, fell in love with an older woman. I accepted that just like everyone else, we couldn’t change his mind and there was no proof of statchitory rape. She was pregnant at the time of her death, and I’m afraid I’m going to get a call telling me Daniel has taken his life as well. That call doesn’t transpire. Two weeks have gone by; school is starting a couple of days. There is commotion in the living room, and ten minutes later, we rush to the emergency vet and beg for them to save our dog’s life, they only care about money and won’t help. I can see the desperation in my Dads eyes and hear the pleading in my mom’s voice on the phone. I already know what’s going to happen, I’ve accepted it. A lot of crying, but it’s my call whether we try to let Ruby make it through the night, and I say no. My mom had to say bye at work. And as we drive home, Ruby is whining in pain and her eyes have glossed over. We arrive home and I wait, and wait, for the ring of the gunshot. I start digging, anger, sadness, grief; it’s all going into that shovel. There is a plan of growing a peach tree, in the location of her burial. She was our oldest animal from Oregon, and now she is
This could just be the worst day of my life; I’ve been dreading this day for the past few months. Moving day; it was just five months ago when my family told me the awful news. I just recently finished my sophomore year in high school, became captain of the varsity basketball team and finally got the girl of my dreams, Julie. Only to have it ruined by my parents telling me that we have to move due to my father getting a new job in Astoria, Oregon. The house or ‘cemetery’ as I referred to it is called Mors Thalamum, which ironically means death chamber in Latin; how convenient I would jest my family in hopes they would change their minds. Before we had to get into the car and leave for what I though would be certain doom I walked over to Julie’s house which was right across the street. “Hey Julie” I said for what would feel like the last time, “Hey Ben” she said, I believe she was feeling the exact thing I was. “I came to say goodbye, my family and I are leaving soon.” “Oh” she said simply but her green eyes said what she couldn’t. “Ben lets go!” I groaned at my father demand. Just as I was turning around Julie called my name, “I’ll miss you Ben” “Ill miss you too Julie” I choked back too focused on trying to hide the tears in my brown eyes. “Do you think we will ever see each other again?” she asked with anticipation in her angelic yet worried voice, “I hope” was all I could say before I turned and left my blonde green-eyed girl for what felt would be the last time.
It was then, as I shut the door behind me, that the tears started to run down my face. I walked down the back steps and once at the bottom I turned around to admire the building that had seen me grow. Although the bricks were eroded, the white siding was appearing to look gray, and the shutters were faded it was certainly home to me. I never loved each and every imperfection that this house had to offer, especially in this very moment. As I loaded in the U-Haul with father, I remember thinking this was the end of my life and everything that I’ve known for the past fifteen years has come to an end.
You feel your heart pounding as if it was trying to hammer its way out. This is the last time you are ever going to see her again. Soon after, you feel a tickle upon your cold, dry cheeks. You try to hold it back, but to no avail. Your sobs echo through the empty warehouse and before you know it, you are crying, as if the entire world and all of its beauty has come to an
I placed my bags by the door and texted Riley saying I was heading over. Then I went to my room grabbed my wallet and walked out the door with my bag. It was cold and rainy but the rest of the week was supposed to be hot.
I remember thinking "This wasn't happening; this couldn't be happening. My best friend, gone. Why her? Why not me? I'm of no use to this planet" I remember feeling a pinch in my arm. Probably a dart, because I couldn't move. something grabbed both of my arms. What was it? It dragged me to the place from which I heard the gun being shot. I couldn't hear anything... I felt something deep inside of me... I still feel it. I felt something shrivel up and die in the place where my heart is supposed to be.... I wish I could die and see her again. At least I'll be able to see her. I wish I could hear her beautiful voice again... She didn't do anything wrong, she was too pure for this world; too pure to leave it! It's
“She won’t listen to me at all!” Mercy paced around in the girls’ bathroom. “I told her to stay away from them, they’re bad. What does she do? Eats out with them.”
Home Culture: I was born in Jackson, Mississippi where I lived out the days in my neonatal period of my life. Furthermore, by the age of one I was onward to Alabama to begin what I thought would be my future, but rather I spent an ephemeral amount of time there moving to what would be my new home. Everything is bigger and better in Texas, and when we approached our new home in Sugar Land, Texas, my young self was prepared for what lied ahead of me. I attended Kindergarten at my local elementary school and eventually worked my way up the ladder until I reached fifth grade. I was an outgoing, extroverted, mischief -maker with my mind in the clouds, but with a deep regard for everyone and anything. Education never seizes to stop as I make my way
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
As I arrived at her apartment she didn’t answer the door, I just went in. I walked down the hall way into her bedroom where she had pills and a beer and a list wrote out to make sure this would be her last recipe, a recipe of death. All I could do was yell, “What the hell are you thinking, he is not worth your life!” I started grabbing the pills, putting them back in a container and taking the beer. I hid the pills in my purse and went to get water. I begged with her to drink the water and remind...