The Door

Every day the sun rises up
And the skies are blue and the trees are green
And everything in the world is supposedly right
But it really isn’t.
Every day I stare out my window
And hope to god that my life will be best
And every day it isn’t so
But some days it is.

It was a bright evening on a winter’s day
Everything seemed as normal as it could be.
I was twinkling a song on my dad’s old guitar
As best as I could, which wasn’t that good.
My mother was sitting in a warm armchair
And closing her eyes as she listened.
She slowly rocked back and forth
And back and forth
Which meant that somehow she liked it.
Then suddenly she opened her gray green eyes.
Immediately I knew something was wrong by her expression, as cold as a never turning windmill.
She looked out the window and stood up in a way that wasn’t like her.
She yelled and she yelled,
Meaningless words that I felt I should understand.
So out of curiosity I turned too, and was met with a bright flash of red.
And turning again all I could see was the shape of my mother,
Dead.

Chapter Two

She is she
And she is I
And she sees herself
And she is all I see.
She is a broken girl
And I am simply numb
And we are both about to jump out the window and kill whoever killed her.
If we do I don’t think we’ll ever come back inside.
Still, there’s something inside me begging to rush outside
And another part to run away
And another to sleep
And another to cry
And another to stop
And another to scream.
She and I are one
And one can’t do anything against another with a gun.

Chapter Three

Someone’s trying to break in the door.
My brain’s on fire
And my world has frozen
And someone’s decided to break down the door.
Run,
My body said.
I’m falling apart,
My brain said.
Just be quiet,
I say.
Quiet
Quiet
Quiet.

The door’s hinges haven’t been good since two years ago
With me and little Anna playing on the swings outside
And Anna’s fell off the bar.
Both her and our door were in the hospital for a week. So right now, our door has no chance.
I guess its just mine now
Since my mom’s gone.
Mine
Mine
Mine.

The door’s screaming.
I want to cry for it, but it’s too busy screaming at me
To save myself.
If anyone else had said that to me
I wouldn’t have listened,
But my door is on it’s last breath and I can’t deny it it’s final wish.
Wish
Wish
Wish.

I try to stand up
And fall behind a chair
And fall through those floorboards
And fall through the air.
I’m in a dark room
With dark floors and dark walls
And I hit my head on the dark floor
And I can’t see anymore.

There’s a loud crack coming from above
Along with gun shots.
But this is louder, more intense,
Like I’ve just heard a life disappear.
I wonder if that’s what I really heard.
Wait…

A loud clang comes from beside me.
With the little strength I have, I reach over and feel around.
There.
A doorknob.
I guess the door’s decided to come here.
Keep me company.

The gun shots continue
But I can hardly hear them.
My head isn’t working
Or at least it doesn’t want to.
I just hope that my mother’s okay
That they wouldn’t take her somewhere
That they’d leave her alone.
My quiet wish.

Chapter Four

It feels like I’ve been asleep for five years.
Or maybe ten.
Or maybe twenty.
The floor isn’t a floor.
It’s dirty with dirt
And me
And the door.
The walls aren’t walls either, although they’re hard to see.
I don’t think there even are walls.
Just ceiling and a floor I should clean up.

I can see a light.
It’s very dim, but if I concentrate, it’s there.
I wonder what’s at the end.
Probably more nothing.
Or something.
The idea of something is too tempting.
Get up,
I tell myself.
Just get up and start walking.
So that’s what I do.
The world looks like I’m walking sideways
But it doesn’t matter.
I hardly have anything to live for, anyway.

Chapter Five

The country side stretches in the morning sun
Like a tired lion.
It’s hard to see that ball of fire in the sky
Same as it was before
Even after everything that happened.
But that’s just how it goes, isn’t it?
No matter what’s going on in your own life, certain things aren’t going to change.
Ever.
At least, not now.
The world is sorry for me,
I can feel it,
But it’s not sorry in a sad way.
Instead of a gloomy day
It gave me a beautiful one.
A day that still contains hope
Even when the hope is drained out of me.
And look, down there, there’s a little town.
People there are probably just waking up
Making coffee
Smiling at each other.
It may hurt because I don’t have that anymore,
But it makes me feel better when I realize that others are still normal
The world is itself
Which helps ground me.
I wonder what would happen if I go into that town.
Would I look like a thief?
A mugger?
Does it matter?

There’s a newspaper stand
Calling my name.
No one’s out on the street yet, just me,
But the newspaper’s already been delivered.
The front page is about different wars going on
Wars I don’t want to know about.
The second page says something…
More.
Murder last night,
It says.
The house on the little hill.
Gunshots were heard, little girl missing.
Father looking for her.

Father?
Is it really true?
And yet it says it, right there,
His name in black ink that looks like paradise.
Just back from war,
The paper says.
Just back, and just wants his daughter.

Chapter Six

Every day the sun rises up
And the skies are blue and the trees are green
And everyone seems to take that for granted
When they really shouldn’t.
Every day from here on is going to be different
Because my life is different
And right now I don’t know what to think.
But maybe…
Maybe

Olivia Alcabes
Age 12, Grade 7,
Writopia Lab
Gold Key

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