Short Story "A Decision"

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A Decision

Mr. Andrew Aven Gillis

May 20th, 2009

1429 words

Ravee Chen

English S1 A

This was not where I wanted to be. This was nowhere close to where I wanted to be. Dirt and tree twigs stuck on my face and I could taste the rough bitterness of the ground. My head spun round giving my vision the earthquake effect. I didn’t even know where I was. Nothing went the way it should have. All I could see in front of me was a pitch black bag. My body shook back and forth. The only thing in my head was the sound of two grown men, running away. It rang around in my head like the bells of the church. I screamed.

I am George Kelly. I am the only remaining twin of my family. My mother is dead, killed by my father, a drunken maniac. He gets in bar fights all the time and ends up beating up anyone in his way. Just last week he beat the mayor’s daughter unconscious. She is in a coma now and no one knows when she might come out. The local police, all close friends of my dad, feel sorry for the man and usually left him off easy with a few days in jail. However, because of his reputation he cannot get a job so his only income is from the neighboring aristocrats, the Dixons. They always treat my father well and secretly hand him envelopes of money but they never look at me. They even try to keep their son, Logan, as far away from me as possible. They don’t succeed most of the time though.

Light poured in all around me. My shadow marked where I had been with small footprints of dry earth, crushed leaves and snapped branches. Trees were everywhere around me and light brown squirrels hurried about me, holding in their mouth the food they spent the day gathering for the long nights ahead of them. On the floor there was a colony of ants, working together as a family collecting food. My stomach growled as I tried to remember my last meal. I didn't want to. My foot blocked out the sun for this little family of ants as I prepared to mold their home into a flat sheet.

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“So George how’s everything?” said Logan as he emerged from the bushes in front of me. We were deep in the forest far from where our parents were. He was dressed head to toe in a shiny white tuxedo, imperfect only by the bush scratches he had just put on them. I, on the other hand, was wearing an old sweater and pants handed down from my brother.

“Why do ya keep on wanting to talk to me?” I questioned, already knowing the answer.

“You know why. I care about ya and want to see how you are doing.” Then ...

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