Post by Whatsup993 on Aug 24, 2012 21:46:57 GMT -5
The start of a story im working on. Please critique
I burst into my small home, breathless from running, and went straight for my room. It was well past midnight and I had to hurry and leave the village soon, before I was found out. I was putting some clothes and a blanket haphazardly into a small bag when I heard a shuffling sound coming from across the room. I froze. Did they already know what happened? I thought I had at least before dawn before anybody would realize it.
I looked to where the noise came from, and noticed a small lump on my bed. I walked over to it and saw it was just Amanda, my little sister. She must have had a nightmare and crawled into my bed at some point in the night, hoping I would be home soon. I felt a pang of sorrow, knowing this would be the last time I saw her.
I went back to packing my bag, wondering who would take her in when I was gone since both of our parents were dead, and we had no living relatives.Our mother had died giving birth to Amanda, and while I could never bring myself to strongly dislike such a sweet child, our father had despised her very existance.
For the first few years of her life, he wouldn't so much as look at her, leaving me to care for her, and started to drink more and more.It wasn't so bad at first; he would just get drunk, say a few harsh words to us, then fall into a deep sleep. The worst came when Amanda was 5 years old, and he came home drunk one evening, and went straight into Amandas' room while she slept. I remember walking past her room to see the door wide open with Father standing over Amanda, pulling back a knife over his head, ready to take her life. Before he could though, I pounced onto his back, trying to grab the knife from his hands. He cried out in alarm, waking up Amanda, and he threw me off his back. I immediately got back up and grabbed at the knife again. We were struggling for the weapon, when he pulled it free of my grasp, I panicked, thinking he would use it to kill me or Amanda, and grabbed a large vase that was sitting on Amandas' nightstand, and thrust it at him. The rest of the memory is foggy, but I vaguely recall Amandas' screams at the sight of the blood. Ever since that night, I had to take care of the house as well as Amanda, but now I was about to leave Amanda behind.
I burst into my small home, breathless from running, and went straight for my room. It was well past midnight and I had to hurry and leave the village soon, before I was found out. I was putting some clothes and a blanket haphazardly into a small bag when I heard a shuffling sound coming from across the room. I froze. Did they already know what happened? I thought I had at least before dawn before anybody would realize it.
I looked to where the noise came from, and noticed a small lump on my bed. I walked over to it and saw it was just Amanda, my little sister. She must have had a nightmare and crawled into my bed at some point in the night, hoping I would be home soon. I felt a pang of sorrow, knowing this would be the last time I saw her.
I went back to packing my bag, wondering who would take her in when I was gone since both of our parents were dead, and we had no living relatives.Our mother had died giving birth to Amanda, and while I could never bring myself to strongly dislike such a sweet child, our father had despised her very existance.
For the first few years of her life, he wouldn't so much as look at her, leaving me to care for her, and started to drink more and more.It wasn't so bad at first; he would just get drunk, say a few harsh words to us, then fall into a deep sleep. The worst came when Amanda was 5 years old, and he came home drunk one evening, and went straight into Amandas' room while she slept. I remember walking past her room to see the door wide open with Father standing over Amanda, pulling back a knife over his head, ready to take her life. Before he could though, I pounced onto his back, trying to grab the knife from his hands. He cried out in alarm, waking up Amanda, and he threw me off his back. I immediately got back up and grabbed at the knife again. We were struggling for the weapon, when he pulled it free of my grasp, I panicked, thinking he would use it to kill me or Amanda, and grabbed a large vase that was sitting on Amandas' nightstand, and thrust it at him. The rest of the memory is foggy, but I vaguely recall Amandas' screams at the sight of the blood. Ever since that night, I had to take care of the house as well as Amanda, but now I was about to leave Amanda behind.