*Juvenile*~Delinquet~:WHATS UP! Ok...I know...I have a problem with making new fics...BUT I can't help it! Who can? Ok well...this idea just came to me So tell me what ya think! And any ideas of where this story should go!
:DiScLaImEr:-I DO NOT OWN HOLES OR ANYTHING RELATED TO IT! Thankyou^_~
~AlanSqUiD~
When I was little...I use to believe my dad was coming home. I was only three, a little three year old stuck in a world where I only believed what was told. He said he was just getting icecream... and I believed him... But I guess even the most reliable can turn on you. I would ask my mom over and over again when he was coming back... but she would just turn away. When I hit the age of five I finally realised the truth. My father wasn't coming home. When I was cold, and hungry... and my mom was actually sober she'd tell me stories to cheer me up. Stories about far off places I never heard of... and other ones I can't quite remember. Then one day while she was actually holding me... I think it was a few weeks before her heavy drinking began... she was rocking me to sleep.When I asked her again if dad was ever coming back. She didn't know what to say..."Maybe he'll be home for Christmas...something to look forward to.." She whispered in my ear. That one sentence haunted my sleep for a while... I wanted to know if it was true... If maybe... just maybe my dad was coming back. I'd wake up early Christmas morning, not looking for gifts or candy... but my dad. I'd watch out the window as snow fell and darkness once again came. I did that for a couple Christmas's... the same thing, over and over. Nothing. No one came... not my dad.. I waited all this time and who came? No one... Even though after a while I found I was lied to again, I still have a feeling it wasn't a lie... that maybe, just maybe he will come back for Christmas. And I'll be there waiting at the window on Christmas morning.
:DiScLaImEr:-I DO NOT OWN HOLES OR ANYTHING RELATED TO IT! Thankyou^_~
~AlanSqUiD~
When I was little...I use to believe my dad was coming home. I was only three, a little three year old stuck in a world where I only believed what was told. He said he was just getting icecream... and I believed him... But I guess even the most reliable can turn on you. I would ask my mom over and over again when he was coming back... but she would just turn away. When I hit the age of five I finally realised the truth. My father wasn't coming home. When I was cold, and hungry... and my mom was actually sober she'd tell me stories to cheer me up. Stories about far off places I never heard of... and other ones I can't quite remember. Then one day while she was actually holding me... I think it was a few weeks before her heavy drinking began... she was rocking me to sleep.When I asked her again if dad was ever coming back. She didn't know what to say..."Maybe he'll be home for Christmas...something to look forward to.." She whispered in my ear. That one sentence haunted my sleep for a while... I wanted to know if it was true... If maybe... just maybe my dad was coming back. I'd wake up early Christmas morning, not looking for gifts or candy... but my dad. I'd watch out the window as snow fell and darkness once again came. I did that for a couple Christmas's... the same thing, over and over. Nothing. No one came... not my dad.. I waited all this time and who came? No one... Even though after a while I found I was lied to again, I still have a feeling it wasn't a lie... that maybe, just maybe he will come back for Christmas. And I'll be there waiting at the window on Christmas morning.