Kris Brass
03-12-2016, 01:27 AM
Here is my crappy story:
The setting sun shone through the clouds and cast blankets of light
over-top the expansive forest. The intermingling colors of red and orange
shrouded the countryside in splendor. The deep cast was bittersweet to
the watchful eyes of the child -whom observed the skyline with curiosity, an
effort to alleviate the stress afflicting his breaking heart, but the troubles of
the present time hindered what little relief the sight provided.
The child's name was Christopher, he was Native America in descent
and presently a ward of Child & Family Services. He was currently under
the care of the Mitchell's; a troubled family that was as conflicted among
one another as they were with him. Their household sheltered four
people, Shelly, David and their two sons, Tim & Mike.
Christopher's first impression about them and their luxuries was
nothing short of awe. They had many things that his biological parents
could never provide. Such things included a pool, farm animals -such as
horses, chickens and cows, a play-structure and even a sandbox.
Because of these materialistic promises, he was easily swayed in departing
from his family in search for something better.
He couldn't be more wrong.
The child recalled the first few weeks of living with them to be fairly
conventional. The teenagers often kept to themselves -both in and out of
school, while the adults were even less involved. The father focused on
his work -and would often leave during the tender hours of the morning,
while the mother was at least able to spend some time with Christopher,
and appeared be as loving and kind as a mother could be.
He remembered the times when he would come home from school to
find various toys on the table. The endearing and memorable day of
Easter, when Shelly arranged a surprise egg hunt for Chris to chase
towards the promised prize; a large chocolate bunny that he found on his
bed. These joyous recollections soothed an aching heart and comforted a
troubled mind. However, if life had taught the child anything, it was that
the better days only lasted for so long.
A droplet of rain slid down the contours of the child's face and broke
his train of thought. He looked up and acknowledged the rain clouds that
lingered above, the first signs of a coming storm. The wind howled a
sullen cry that intermingled with its unwanted chill. It cooly kissed the
child's cheeks and encompassed every small crevice around him.
There was nowhere to hide.
He sat with his back adjacent to a wooden light pole, uncertain of what
to do. He fingered a few strands of grass and plucked them from the soil.
He knew that he had to find shelter somewhere, but there wasn't anywhere
to hide. The coming storm would encompass the area and leave him
drenched and cold. That was often the result whenever a storm passed
by, especially if he lingered too long in an open area. He once tried to
hide underneath the branches of the trees, but he found that droplets of
rain would slide down the leafs.
The ominous clouds moved overhead and bellowed deep groans that
cracked the sky in two. A few pellets of rain fell, and than a few more after
that. Shortly, the rain became more intense. A wall of rain moved over
the yard and coated the area in moisture. The storm passed over-head
and chilled him to the bone. To make matters worse, he was scarcely
dressed at all. The child wore nothing but his underwear, and a blanket
that was folded over his hips to resemble the likes of a diaper. This
embarrassing insult was a form of punishment that was enforced by the
mother. It served as a purpose to belittle the child and to make him feel
responsible for wetting his bed; albeit, other factors clearly came into play.
This undesirable form of wear caused him to be quite distant from the
Mitchell's, and anybody in general. He did his best to avoid associating
with them and often-times, tried to keep himself busy around the yard.
However, this wasn't one of those times. A storm had begun and night
was approaching, and who could know if some sort of wild animal or
creature would appear from the darkened woods.
He glanced around, trying to determine if there was any shelter
available. The shed was locked nowadays because they caught him
sleeping in it whenever a storm had come. The farmhouse was also
off-limits now because they found that he tried to pet the horses or watch
the farm animals. Because of this, there weren't many options available.
However, he figured that if he was able to sit, or lie underneath the slide, he
would at least be rid of the storms ferocity. The play-structure was located
a few hundred feet across the yard and he would have to trek through the
the blistering cold just to reach it. So the child pushed himself to his feet,
wrapped his arms around his body, and begun the sullen walk.
Along the way, the boy asked himself how things had came to be so
bad.
'How?' He thought to himself as he plodded along the empty yard.
These were questions that he couldn't answer with causes he could
scarcely comprehend, but there was one event that stuck him as
particularly interesting. It was the first day that Shelly had shown her true
colors and decided to give him the boot from the house. The unspeakable
event occurred several months ago and happened during the tender hours
of the night. The child reminisced back to that foul day and recollected
those terrifying moments.
He remembered awaking in his bed. The darkness of the room
obscured his vision and the quietness made the entire experience more
profound. His breaths faltered as he jumped from his bed.
'You better stop wetting your bed or you can sleep on the box spring!'
Shelly had told him a few weeks ago. He did his best to heed the warning
and follow through with her expectations, but he couldn't stop for some
reason. Perhaps it was his misfortunate upbringing or his fear of Shelly
that caused such accidents. Whatever the reason was, he couldn't be
sure. What he was sure about was her warning. Because she had
thrown his mattress out later that week -after another incident, and stayed
true to her promise.
Now, he cautioned another fear, the mistake of doing it again. Once
Shelly found out in the morning there would certainly be a severe
punishment. To make matters worse, he still had to use the washroom!
But there was an alarm that was attached to his door. This alarm had
been set up by the Mitchell's to prevent him from leaving his room during
the night. This became a troublesome predicament for the child. One
one hand, he could use the washroom whenever he needed to, but doing
so would wake the entire household and everybody would hate him for it,
on the other, it prevented him from using the washroom because he
became to fearful of making everybody mad. Despite knowing how much
they already hated him, surely they could hate him a little bit more. The
alarm had also been set up to prevent him from wandering through the
house during the late hours of the night. The child was not always fed,
and as a result, he would often sneak through the house to find whatever
scraps he could. He examined his mattress as best he could and
determine that he had in fact done it again. 'Crap' He thought to himself
as he realized that the urge to use the washroom was still too much.
He had to use it.
Christopher walked towards the path of the alarm and extended his
arm. At first, the alarm didn't sound. So he pushed his arm out further
and suddenly, a loud ringing sound was echoing through the entire house.
The blistering noise was deafening to his ears. He hurriedly put his hands
over them and immediately ran to his bed.
He heard Shelly's footsteps as she stormed through the house. To
the ears of the small child, they sounded quite intimidating. She walked
through his bedroom door and began to enter the password to turn the
alarm off. Once the blaring had ended she turned around and asked him
what he wanted.
"The washroom" He said softly, barely louder than a whisper. He
realized that he had unknowingly pulled the blankets up to his chin in a
sense of defense.
Shelly was a few moments away from letting him pee when her
attitude took an immediate change. Her nose contorted as though she
had smelled something hideous.
"Damn child!" She screamed as she lunged for him. She pulled him
off his bed and flipped the mattress over. It was soaked and stained, the
smell of it made it even more obvious. "How many times, how many times
have I asked you not to do this?" She yelled as she grabbed his ear
forcefully. "If you want to wet your bed than there is room for you outside!"
She exclaimed as she started dragging him through the hallway.
The child broke into a sudden cry and begged for forgiveness, but his
pardons were quickly dismissed. He tried to pull himself away from her
grasp, but the more he pulled, the more his head hurt. She held him firmly
by the hair and pulled harder the more he fought. When the two reached
the front door, she opened it and hurriedly shoved him through.
Immediately, a cool wind rushed around his body. It was the first time
the child had experienced such cold, but it compared little to the cold
heartedness of the woman who left him here. The first feeling that struck
him was loneliness, due to the sheer isolation that he was faced with. The
wooden light pole in the distance was the only source of light in the entire
yard. Everything else was black. So black that he started to fear for his
safety. The second feeling that struck him was fear. Fear of the unknown
and of what may or may not linger within the black shadows of the forest.
The many nights since that day were much the same. The only
solace he had from these hardships were the days that he attended school.
He made friends, earned good grades and had some magnificent times,
but he kept the secret to himself. Nobody could have figured that
something so dreadful was taking place behind closed doors. The
Mitchell's would let him shower and change into clean clothes, before
eating breakfast and departing for the school bus. They did this to prevent
themselves from being caught.
And it worked.
Once again, the child was brought back to reality and his
acknowledgments of the hardships of the present time. The saturating
rain continued to fall, continuously pelting across the child's face. As the
rain grew more intense, so did his desire for warmth or shelter. It was then
that he reached the wooden play-structure. He unraveled his arms from
his tiny body and placed one hand on the slide. He peered underneath it
and examined the ground. It was rather uneven with pockets of grass
sprouting out from the tender soil, but it was shelter. He decided to crawl
underneath the cavernous slide and lie down, perhaps until his foster family
remembered him, or perhaps until the storm stopped.
And so as he laid his head upon the rustling glass, his eyes stared
towards the stars above. And pellets of rain fell in an endless numerosity
-like that of eternity, and it was within that moment that he realized one of
the many virtues of strength; perseverance.
The setting sun shone through the clouds and cast blankets of light
over-top the expansive forest. The intermingling colors of red and orange
shrouded the countryside in splendor. The deep cast was bittersweet to
the watchful eyes of the child -whom observed the skyline with curiosity, an
effort to alleviate the stress afflicting his breaking heart, but the troubles of
the present time hindered what little relief the sight provided.
The child's name was Christopher, he was Native America in descent
and presently a ward of Child & Family Services. He was currently under
the care of the Mitchell's; a troubled family that was as conflicted among
one another as they were with him. Their household sheltered four
people, Shelly, David and their two sons, Tim & Mike.
Christopher's first impression about them and their luxuries was
nothing short of awe. They had many things that his biological parents
could never provide. Such things included a pool, farm animals -such as
horses, chickens and cows, a play-structure and even a sandbox.
Because of these materialistic promises, he was easily swayed in departing
from his family in search for something better.
He couldn't be more wrong.
The child recalled the first few weeks of living with them to be fairly
conventional. The teenagers often kept to themselves -both in and out of
school, while the adults were even less involved. The father focused on
his work -and would often leave during the tender hours of the morning,
while the mother was at least able to spend some time with Christopher,
and appeared be as loving and kind as a mother could be.
He remembered the times when he would come home from school to
find various toys on the table. The endearing and memorable day of
Easter, when Shelly arranged a surprise egg hunt for Chris to chase
towards the promised prize; a large chocolate bunny that he found on his
bed. These joyous recollections soothed an aching heart and comforted a
troubled mind. However, if life had taught the child anything, it was that
the better days only lasted for so long.
A droplet of rain slid down the contours of the child's face and broke
his train of thought. He looked up and acknowledged the rain clouds that
lingered above, the first signs of a coming storm. The wind howled a
sullen cry that intermingled with its unwanted chill. It cooly kissed the
child's cheeks and encompassed every small crevice around him.
There was nowhere to hide.
He sat with his back adjacent to a wooden light pole, uncertain of what
to do. He fingered a few strands of grass and plucked them from the soil.
He knew that he had to find shelter somewhere, but there wasn't anywhere
to hide. The coming storm would encompass the area and leave him
drenched and cold. That was often the result whenever a storm passed
by, especially if he lingered too long in an open area. He once tried to
hide underneath the branches of the trees, but he found that droplets of
rain would slide down the leafs.
The ominous clouds moved overhead and bellowed deep groans that
cracked the sky in two. A few pellets of rain fell, and than a few more after
that. Shortly, the rain became more intense. A wall of rain moved over
the yard and coated the area in moisture. The storm passed over-head
and chilled him to the bone. To make matters worse, he was scarcely
dressed at all. The child wore nothing but his underwear, and a blanket
that was folded over his hips to resemble the likes of a diaper. This
embarrassing insult was a form of punishment that was enforced by the
mother. It served as a purpose to belittle the child and to make him feel
responsible for wetting his bed; albeit, other factors clearly came into play.
This undesirable form of wear caused him to be quite distant from the
Mitchell's, and anybody in general. He did his best to avoid associating
with them and often-times, tried to keep himself busy around the yard.
However, this wasn't one of those times. A storm had begun and night
was approaching, and who could know if some sort of wild animal or
creature would appear from the darkened woods.
He glanced around, trying to determine if there was any shelter
available. The shed was locked nowadays because they caught him
sleeping in it whenever a storm had come. The farmhouse was also
off-limits now because they found that he tried to pet the horses or watch
the farm animals. Because of this, there weren't many options available.
However, he figured that if he was able to sit, or lie underneath the slide, he
would at least be rid of the storms ferocity. The play-structure was located
a few hundred feet across the yard and he would have to trek through the
the blistering cold just to reach it. So the child pushed himself to his feet,
wrapped his arms around his body, and begun the sullen walk.
Along the way, the boy asked himself how things had came to be so
bad.
'How?' He thought to himself as he plodded along the empty yard.
These were questions that he couldn't answer with causes he could
scarcely comprehend, but there was one event that stuck him as
particularly interesting. It was the first day that Shelly had shown her true
colors and decided to give him the boot from the house. The unspeakable
event occurred several months ago and happened during the tender hours
of the night. The child reminisced back to that foul day and recollected
those terrifying moments.
He remembered awaking in his bed. The darkness of the room
obscured his vision and the quietness made the entire experience more
profound. His breaths faltered as he jumped from his bed.
'You better stop wetting your bed or you can sleep on the box spring!'
Shelly had told him a few weeks ago. He did his best to heed the warning
and follow through with her expectations, but he couldn't stop for some
reason. Perhaps it was his misfortunate upbringing or his fear of Shelly
that caused such accidents. Whatever the reason was, he couldn't be
sure. What he was sure about was her warning. Because she had
thrown his mattress out later that week -after another incident, and stayed
true to her promise.
Now, he cautioned another fear, the mistake of doing it again. Once
Shelly found out in the morning there would certainly be a severe
punishment. To make matters worse, he still had to use the washroom!
But there was an alarm that was attached to his door. This alarm had
been set up by the Mitchell's to prevent him from leaving his room during
the night. This became a troublesome predicament for the child. One
one hand, he could use the washroom whenever he needed to, but doing
so would wake the entire household and everybody would hate him for it,
on the other, it prevented him from using the washroom because he
became to fearful of making everybody mad. Despite knowing how much
they already hated him, surely they could hate him a little bit more. The
alarm had also been set up to prevent him from wandering through the
house during the late hours of the night. The child was not always fed,
and as a result, he would often sneak through the house to find whatever
scraps he could. He examined his mattress as best he could and
determine that he had in fact done it again. 'Crap' He thought to himself
as he realized that the urge to use the washroom was still too much.
He had to use it.
Christopher walked towards the path of the alarm and extended his
arm. At first, the alarm didn't sound. So he pushed his arm out further
and suddenly, a loud ringing sound was echoing through the entire house.
The blistering noise was deafening to his ears. He hurriedly put his hands
over them and immediately ran to his bed.
He heard Shelly's footsteps as she stormed through the house. To
the ears of the small child, they sounded quite intimidating. She walked
through his bedroom door and began to enter the password to turn the
alarm off. Once the blaring had ended she turned around and asked him
what he wanted.
"The washroom" He said softly, barely louder than a whisper. He
realized that he had unknowingly pulled the blankets up to his chin in a
sense of defense.
Shelly was a few moments away from letting him pee when her
attitude took an immediate change. Her nose contorted as though she
had smelled something hideous.
"Damn child!" She screamed as she lunged for him. She pulled him
off his bed and flipped the mattress over. It was soaked and stained, the
smell of it made it even more obvious. "How many times, how many times
have I asked you not to do this?" She yelled as she grabbed his ear
forcefully. "If you want to wet your bed than there is room for you outside!"
She exclaimed as she started dragging him through the hallway.
The child broke into a sudden cry and begged for forgiveness, but his
pardons were quickly dismissed. He tried to pull himself away from her
grasp, but the more he pulled, the more his head hurt. She held him firmly
by the hair and pulled harder the more he fought. When the two reached
the front door, she opened it and hurriedly shoved him through.
Immediately, a cool wind rushed around his body. It was the first time
the child had experienced such cold, but it compared little to the cold
heartedness of the woman who left him here. The first feeling that struck
him was loneliness, due to the sheer isolation that he was faced with. The
wooden light pole in the distance was the only source of light in the entire
yard. Everything else was black. So black that he started to fear for his
safety. The second feeling that struck him was fear. Fear of the unknown
and of what may or may not linger within the black shadows of the forest.
The many nights since that day were much the same. The only
solace he had from these hardships were the days that he attended school.
He made friends, earned good grades and had some magnificent times,
but he kept the secret to himself. Nobody could have figured that
something so dreadful was taking place behind closed doors. The
Mitchell's would let him shower and change into clean clothes, before
eating breakfast and departing for the school bus. They did this to prevent
themselves from being caught.
And it worked.
Once again, the child was brought back to reality and his
acknowledgments of the hardships of the present time. The saturating
rain continued to fall, continuously pelting across the child's face. As the
rain grew more intense, so did his desire for warmth or shelter. It was then
that he reached the wooden play-structure. He unraveled his arms from
his tiny body and placed one hand on the slide. He peered underneath it
and examined the ground. It was rather uneven with pockets of grass
sprouting out from the tender soil, but it was shelter. He decided to crawl
underneath the cavernous slide and lie down, perhaps until his foster family
remembered him, or perhaps until the storm stopped.
And so as he laid his head upon the rustling glass, his eyes stared
towards the stars above. And pellets of rain fell in an endless numerosity
-like that of eternity, and it was within that moment that he realized one of
the many virtues of strength; perseverance.