I realise something. I dont have the capability of finishing a story once i loose my inspiration for it. So for who ever I happened to disappoint before, sorry. For this story, though, I can garuntee i wont loose interest because, quite fronkly, I've already written it! So if there is ever a delay in updating for this, then... You know what, never mind. There won't be any delays. BUT... I also suck at grammer, so if there are any delays it would be in editing... So, beta type ASAP?
I walked through my the front door of my run down white house. The paint on the door was peeling to the point where there were only little splotches left to tell you what color it was intended to be. I sighed as I walked over the threshold, wondering why I was even still living here.
I dropped my bag down on the floor near the couch listening for any sounds in the house. It was completely silent. strange. I went into the kitchen and saw the remains of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I made earlier that morning. only the crusts were left. Other than that, it was completely spotless. Another oddity. I walked to the stairs and made a slow ascent, dodging beer bottles the whole way.
First I checked my room, look through the closet and under the bed only to come up empty handed. nothing was there. Then I went to the bathroom, checking in the tub and under the sink. empty. Lastly I checked the one place I was sure was also empty. My parents bedroom.
I slowly cracked the door open, seeing my dad passes out on the bed, spread eagle and naked. I saw a blond head peeking out from under the covers and purple clad feet sticking from the end of the bed. Dear old daddy and his latest mistress.
I tiptoed past the bed and went to the closet, looking inside to find it empty of anything besides dirty clothes that I'm sure my dad just stuffed in there to try and make this place look presentable for the latest whore he brought home.
I went to the bed, just covering all my bases, and looked under to see a sleeping little boy, curled in around himself as if trying to protect himself. I delicately pulled him from under the bed, trying not to wake him, and gathered him into my arms. Trying not to make a sound, but still go fast, I fled from the room and down the hall to my bedroom.
put the sleeping little boy on my bed and sat down beside him stroking his hair back from his face. He had wonderful brown curls that looked like silk. His eyes fluttered open and locked on mine.
"Momma!" he shouted and threw himself at me. Oh yeah, now I remember. He is reason I stayed.
Oh, and just because it is written doesn't mean that I'm giving it to you all at once. There is always room for change in the lovely world of writing. And also because I like reviews. Hahaha... So, hop to it and tell me what you think.
