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Emotionless - creative writing.

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Emotionless BANG. My old baseball bat fell out of the cupboard I was cleaning and rolled to in front of my feet. I bent down and picked it up. It held so many happy, but also painful memories. My dad had given me it on my eleventh birthday, well it had been given to both me and my twin brother to share. Money had always been a problem in our household even when my dad was around, and expecting lavish birthday or Christmas presents was out of the question, especially as there were so many of us: me, my twin brother Jack, our younger brother Billy and our little sister Amy. We were so pleased with our bat, it was the same cool one as all the kids at school had, but the best thing about it was that our dad would take us to practise with them once a week at the park. Our dad never had much time for us so that session each week was precious. The only time we had with our dad was the baseball practices and an hour every Sunday when we would help dad fix the car. Our dad used to talk to us, he'd tell us to work hard and stick up for ouselves, and he'd tell us that he loved us and that we'd go far and we could do whatever we set our minds to if we worked for it. ...read more.


"The store." We heard the door bang and we all got up to go and see Mum. She was sitting in our little kitchen crying, but stopped and quickly wiped her tears away when she saw us, she would never let us see her crying, our mum was amazing, she cared for us so much and would do anything she could to stop us from seeing anything that might hurt us. Amy wrapped herself in our mother's arms which hugged her tightly and she kissed the top of her head. "Will Daddy be back for Christmas?" Amy said through teary eyes. "I'm sure he will my darling," Mum smiled back her eyes also watery. "But who says we have to wait for Christmas, why don't we open presents now?" That was our mum, always looking for the best way to make us happy, putting aside her own feelings. "Tom sweetheart, go and get the presents from mine and your father's room will you dear?" I nodded and walked to my parents room, I wouldn't need any help carrying the presents there were only ever a few. As i entered the room all feeling drained out of me, my stomach dropped and I just stared for a few moments. The room had been emptied of all my father's belongings. When some of the feeling had come back I ran to the wardrobe and flung it open, all his clothes had gone, everything of his had gone. ...read more.


Music was a big influence on me, there were bands singing about experiences similar to mine and the things I had to deal with every day at home, school and at work. We were lucky enough to have an old guitar in our attic which I taught myself how to play and that dragged me through the hardest times. But no matter how hard things got Mum would always tell us we'd get through it and would always smile even if she was skipping meals so she could feed us. I still hate my father for what he did to his children and his wife. 'Hate' is a word our mother taught us never to use but I feel in this case it is appropriate. Sometime's I wonder how he sleeps at night, and I wonder if he thinks about us, and if he misses his little girl and I wonder if he has a new family. I used to wonder if he cared if we were ok. Now I know he never cared, however painful that is to come to terms with. The days when I used to look at my father as a hero are a long lost memory, I wonder if he even knows we're alive. Sometimes I forgive him, and sometime's I'll admit, that I miss him. I flung the baseball bat to the back of the closet and slammed the door shut. ...read more.

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