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East Bluff Nightmare-Chapter 1
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 Created on 3-18-08
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Again I find myself screaming in the middle of the night with the image of my father’s cold dead body getting carried away. My mother runs into the room, but she already knows what happened. I’m pretty sure she made my screaming a scheduled thing because she even sets her alarm clock to when I wake up: 1:30 a.m. every day. She just comes in to console me then I go back to sleep, but I can understand after nine years of this habit. My room is always dark in the morning I close all my blinds and darken all the windows without blinds to keep the sunrise from coming in. I have no friends to hang out with, and I have no way of making any at my school. Everyone knows me as “Death” because my dad died with out warning when I was with him. I’ve never been to a friend’s house. The only friend I ever had was a kid in kindergarten named Kalden, but he moved that summer after my father died. There is also one more reason for my lack of friends. My eyes are a crystal purple color, and every thinks it’s a strange color to have for eyes. Even teachers called it weird when we learned about the eye in seventh grade.
I go back to sleep only to be woken up by my alarm clock four hours later. I get dress and brush my teeth. I grab a quick breakfast while I wait for sunrise to be over. Sometime it’s hard to dodge sunrise in the winter because I’m usually in school, but I just ask the teacher if we can close the blinds. Most of the time they say yes, but my one teacher Mr. Quanster never lets the blinds be closed so I stare the other way for as long as I can with out getting caught. Why doesn’t he understand I can’t stand it? Why can’t anyone understand how hard it is to make it through the day? It makes me so mad sometimes. Most times I think things would be better if I moved away, but I would still have to deal with the color of my eyes as a problem. Lately I think I will be moving away. My mom is packing up all of her most precious possessions. She is always forgetting the most important possession of them all though, my father’s grand piano. It hasn’t been played on 9 years even though I take piano lessons. I would never damage the one thing that keeps my fathers spirit alive other then the haunting dreams that I would want to throw away if I could. I want to remember him only in good ways, but that is impossible for me. I start to walk down the stairs when I get a feeling in my stomach someone is watching me. I have been getting this feeling a lot lately. It reminds me of when I was a kid and thought there was a man out to get me. He was tall, had blue eyes, and wore a black robe that covered his face in shadow, but his blue eyes could be seen clearly.
“Nadalia are you OK,” my mother asks in that worried way only mothers can do. “You’re going to be late for practice.”
“I can’t go now. The sunrise is still going on.” I can tell my answer makes her mad.
“You need to get over your father’s death. It was nine years ago. You love playing the piano and this is your last practice.”
“What do you mean my last practice?”
“We are moving tomorrow. I didn’t want to tell you because you would yell at me to take the piano. You never use it so I didn’t want to have to take it.”
“We are going to take it no matter what you say.”
I storm up to my room to wait for the sunrise to be over. I was not in the mood to talk to her any more. I just felt she couldn’t help me. She never could because she always thought I was too old to dwell over a situation like that anymore. She says its over and I need to move on. It’s almost like she doesn’t care that he is dead. Like his death was the best thing that happened to her. What happened to my mother that would cry with me when I was little to make me feel like she misses him? That mother is gone and is replaced with a non-feeling mother who doesn’t care at all.
Finally when the sunrise is over I can go out side. I don’t want to run into my mother down stairs so I go out my window. I really don’t feel like going to my lesson any more so I just walk around town. I realize that Baraboo is a great city, but I feel like I’m stuck here. I start to wonder were we are moving and how it will affect me. I wonder if I will make friends even with my purple eyes, or if they will call me “Mutant” like what I was called before my father died.
When I get home, my mother is furious.
“Were have you been.” She asks like she a rhino protecting its young.
“I was walking around. I thought I should see the city before we move.”
“Well don’t think this changes my mind of moving to Madison.”
“Well I never thought it would.”
“Go pack your stuff up, NOW”
I walk up the stairs mocking her tone. I am so mad at her she is so full of herself. I get to my room and start throwing stuff into my suitcase. I don’t bother to fold any thing. What would be the point I would just have to take it out right away? Plus I think I don’t have that much time. I go to my closet and take out a box. My most precious box I would never leave with out it. I see she already took all the furniture from my room. When I go down stairs, I realize she didn’t take the grand piano yet.
“Why is that still here” I ask my voice is holding back so much anger.
“I told you I am not going to take it.” She has her selfishness voice talking.
“And I told you it is going with us no matter what. If it doesn’t come I won’t go.”
“Fine I will call the people to pick it up tomorrow.”
“They better pick it up otherwise I will run away.”
I walked out to the car and put my suitcase into the trunk. I slammed it shut and opened the passenger door when suddenly I got that feeling in my stomach again. Why is it happening all of a sudden when I am moving?
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On June 25th 2008 Omniton Said : | |
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Wow, I'm really liking this! kmp! GOD BLESS YOU! |
| On March 21st 2008 chayeah22 Said : | |
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This is really interesting, I like it. |
| On March 19th 2008 xHickChick789x Said : | |
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hmm... I wonder too. Sounds interesting. I continuing on... |
