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A creative story

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A Mother 'Michael Michael'? That was my tiresome mothers voice, I meant stepmother. I opened my weary eyes and saw the same old view I had seen for seven years of my life. Furthermore it was going to be the same old day. I got out of my bed, which was more like a rubbish bin with litter everywhere. I turned on the dingy lights which only produced a faint glow and I put on my glasses. I got up eagerly knowing that I had to leave the house before my step mother saw me, so I walked over to the door which was no more than two metres away and put my ear against the filthy rotten door. I was in the basement locked away from my bother and sisters who where eating breakfast with my step mother. I could hear the ringing mental sound of knife and forks hitting the plate and could hear my brothers being childish. I knew that my step mother could not control the kids and she let them do what ever they wanted but she could control me. She would do everything to me such as kick me, spit at me, throw things at me and punch me, but only I saw the damage. ...read more.


She followed me. I went over to the fridge pretending not to be concerned and I got a can of coke out of the fridge. It was freezing so I put it down on the counter. "Do you want some food?" bellowed my stepmother with a smile and in reply I shook my head. "Well you have to have some" and got a golden brown apple, came over to me and shoved it in my mouth. I cowardly ran away to my bedroom. I sat on the bed. The apple was sour in my mouth and my lips were bleeding. She came after me like a raging bull. I turned my head and saw the malicious look in her eyes. I knew what was going to happen. She came over and sat beside me just staring at me. We sat like this for a number of minutes. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. She raised her hand. Patted me on the back and I could tell that she was livid. She raised her hand a second time. This time clobbering me on my back. I winced in pain. ...read more.


I walked down the fulgent road and turned left and my heart pounded when I saw the road I was on. It was the road where my mother lived. I walked on the road and I was rather scared of what she would say to me, but I carried on walking. I could remember her great cooking and her tasty casserole in my mouth. I was now opposite her house, the house of joy and elation and I knew that she would love to see me. It was a busy main road and the car fumes made me cough as the carbon dioxide filled my lungs. I walked out in to the road just between two cars and through the curtains I could see her, my mother and she was waiting for me calling my name.' Michael Michael', so I went. Only she was in my mind. I stepped out in front of the road eyes fixed to the house. I took another step slowly and eagerly, and I could hear a horn, I turned my head, and I was blinded by the low autumn sun. I closed my eyes. * * * Here lies Michael Brown, beloved son of Mary Hodgkin, aged eight. ?? ?? ?? ?? Gopal Johal09/10/2008 ...read more.

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