Status: Active
Walk Away
one
Hi, I'm Emma. I'm 7 years old and I live in a house with my mommy and daddy. But that's not my only home! My second secret home is the lake. It's hidden by trees and bushes, but once you emerge, it opens into a sparkling clearing, the light from the sun dancing on top of the waves before my eyes. I often brought books down to read, the waves soothing over the pages, the ruffling of the trees bringing life to the words, the sweet serenading of nature surrounding me. I would dig up a small hole , big enough to fit the book, under a bush or tree and hide my books, safely, where only I knew the location.
By the side, a canoe with a paddle sat upside down, waiting to be sailed in. The trees grew tall and big, creating a figure of light that hit the clearing floor before it met the water. Grass seemed to grow in a strange pattern, and I loved lying down on it and just stare into the sky...wondering, dreaming what life will bring next for me.
I like the lake. I like it a lot. It's my real home. Sometimes at the house inland, I hear my parents making horrible noises, screaming at each other. That's when I miss the lake the most. That's the signal for escape.
One day it had started again, like any other day it would. It was normal for something like this to happen. That day was a Thursday in the midst of summer. I remembered it as clearly as my mind stuck to the deadliest moments of my life.
All that could be hear was screaming, but I didn't mind that, focusing my mind on the waves and the rocks that I couldn't manage to skip across it. Bad rocks. I guess I need more training.
Then I heard a loud bang, followed by the most horrifying scream my ears had ever heard. Something was wrong.
Quickly, quickly, ever so quickly I ran fast to my house, bursting in from the front door. A sticky, crimson substance leaked across the floor and to my feet. Eyes following the trail, like they show in those unimaginable horror movies, I found the source of the substance, to my horror.
I stood for a moment, shocked. Emotionless I stared, tears pouring from my eyes. I shifted my gaze onto the crazed man I had known as the father I loved, and the father that loved me. My kind father.
He got out of the room quickly, taking the crime weapon with him as I was left to tidy up our living room, but I couldn't do it. It was too painful. Instead, my hand shakily picked up the nearby phone as my fingers seemed to move stiff like a robot as it punched in the numbers, 9-1-1.
"Hello, please state your emergency and how may I help you?"
"My...my mother is dead. And so am I. "
By the side, a canoe with a paddle sat upside down, waiting to be sailed in. The trees grew tall and big, creating a figure of light that hit the clearing floor before it met the water. Grass seemed to grow in a strange pattern, and I loved lying down on it and just stare into the sky...wondering, dreaming what life will bring next for me.
I like the lake. I like it a lot. It's my real home. Sometimes at the house inland, I hear my parents making horrible noises, screaming at each other. That's when I miss the lake the most. That's the signal for escape.
One day it had started again, like any other day it would. It was normal for something like this to happen. That day was a Thursday in the midst of summer. I remembered it as clearly as my mind stuck to the deadliest moments of my life.
All that could be hear was screaming, but I didn't mind that, focusing my mind on the waves and the rocks that I couldn't manage to skip across it. Bad rocks. I guess I need more training.
Then I heard a loud bang, followed by the most horrifying scream my ears had ever heard. Something was wrong.
Quickly, quickly, ever so quickly I ran fast to my house, bursting in from the front door. A sticky, crimson substance leaked across the floor and to my feet. Eyes following the trail, like they show in those unimaginable horror movies, I found the source of the substance, to my horror.
I stood for a moment, shocked. Emotionless I stared, tears pouring from my eyes. I shifted my gaze onto the crazed man I had known as the father I loved, and the father that loved me. My kind father.
He got out of the room quickly, taking the crime weapon with him as I was left to tidy up our living room, but I couldn't do it. It was too painful. Instead, my hand shakily picked up the nearby phone as my fingers seemed to move stiff like a robot as it punched in the numbers, 9-1-1.
"Hello, please state your emergency and how may I help you?"
"My...my mother is dead. And so am I. "