An Urban Town From A Storybook

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

     As driving into Hickory, Indiana, a tiny town, I see that every house has a basketball hoop on the side of their barn. The little town consists of one main street. It has the local supermarket, barbershop, hardware store and some other small stores. While driving on the main street, I noticed that everyone notices a stranger coming into town. That is how small Hickory is. Driving into the high school parking lot I see that the girls dominate the young men by far. Looking around I also see that everyone is talking about the basketball game that night.

When I woke up in the morning, my mom had left for work. My dad was singing in the kitchen, banging pots around. I got up, tiptoed down the hall, washed my face. A neatly wrapped present lay on the bathroom counter. It was addressed to me. I stuffed it into my robe pocket, and rushed back down the hall. Under the covers, I opened the package. On the first page of a small, leather notebook, an inscription read: to a writer, love your mother. I never wrote anything in the notebook. I could never think of anything good

I didn’t know what I would do without Mother; she was my rock, the only thing that was constant in my life. She was my generous advisor, unmoving and strong. I pushed these thoughts away from my head; that was in the past, I couldn’t change it, and it could never be undone. Finally reaching my destination, I sprinted up the front steps, grabbed the brass knocker, and slammed it onto the giant wooden door. The door creaked open, and an annoyed voice spoke through the crack. “Adi, I’m busy right now, please come later.” The door was starting to close before I spoke, “Elle,” I said, my voice cracking, “please, Mother has died, and this act has been passed, and Father doesn’t know what to do, and I don’t know what to do.” The door flung open, and Elle started running in the direction of our house. I ran after her, and when we reached the house, Elle pushed the door open, and yelled, “Father? Father? I’m here!” When she finally found my father, sitting at the table, head in his hands, she embraced him from behind. “I’m here,” she whispered. “Girls, sit down, we have matters to discuss.” He

As I jotted down the answer to my geometry homework, I felt the vibrations of the floor trembling beneath my feet from the deafening screams of my parents. I continued my work, as I go uninterrupted by the daily routine argument. One day, I didn’t hear the screaming anymore, which was one of the biggest abnormalities in this household. I slunk halfway down the stairs and stretched my neck over the banister to catch a glimpse of what had happened without getting caught. The next thing I knew my older brother was standing by my side, his curiosity piqued. My mom broke the silence by peering her head around the corner of the living room, her eyes locked onto mine. As my brother and my cover were blown, we walked gingerly to the couch and sat down. I watched my mom’s stone cold face quiver out the words, “We...are....divorcing”. My face froze as if I was in a cartoon show. I tried to

As I lay in bed on a fall evening, an open window lets in a cool breeze accompanied with sounds of crickets and a faint train horn blare. As I peer out into the dark night sky I see an ebony sky glittered with stars. A sense of calm washes over me and I know I’m right where I’m meant to be! It’s a small town, Galt, with a population under 23,000. I didn’t grow up here, but it’s where I’ve lived for the past ten years, and it’s where I’ve chosen to raise my children. The town is a combination of city and farm living. Children from the same school either take a long bus ride through the desolate and diminishing backroads every morning, or a short walk through the peaceful and charming subdivisions to reach their destination. There is a mixture

In my hometown could you find friendly people with stalls lined along Main Street. Newly picked flowers, glistening apples, and crisp bottled honey surrounded me. It was the monthly farmer’s market, after all. Going to the county fair proved to be a worthwhile pastime too. Mooing cows filled my ears while to my left I could see a group of kids smoking a blunt. My school was filled with whispers, gossiping or uttering the n-word while others murmured proudly of how they were going to vote for Donald Trump. This town of 4,000 residents was home — and it could also be your home too. Known for its history, people, and activities, there are many surprises located in this small yet cozy village.

Even when the sky cried, the town was perfect. The weekly manicured grass welcomed the unexpected warm summer rain. Rainbows of chalk drawings washed away in dark pools, and even with whole world seemingly turning dark, the perfect white trim on the houses shown, and the old gas street lights illuminated the pristine street. In the beige house, behind the white picket fence and the red door gathered a group of APT moms in the kitchen, hosting weekly book club. My sad reflection in the window stared back at me, visible to no one. I laughed quietly to myself when I saw the very familiar group. Making small talk at the head of the table was Mrs. Jackson, I had gone to school with her son forever. Funny, I didn’t see her at the funeral. Chipping away at her manicure was Mrs. Webster, our conservative Girl Scout leader whose daughter Lillian never liked me much. It was a quite diverse group, some sporting intricate hairdos thick with hairspray and pins, sipping their soy lattes perfectly poised, conversing only slightly

On a dreadful night, I went up to my mother to try and talk to her about my father’s passing. She was immediately frightful and all I wanted to do was to talk to her about how wrong it was for her to marry my father soon after my father’s death. As we began talking, the discussion became heated. Soon I found myself enraged. I grabbed her by the arms and threw her on the bed. She became frightened and started shouting for help.

“Mother stop you’re being very unreasonable.” I say to my mom fuming with anger. “Adelaide, I cannot believe that you would go against everything I’ve been trying to teach you.” I watch as the hot, salty liquid falls down the disappointed cheek of my mom. It leaves behind a trail of tears that glimmers under the sun when she moves her face. “Mother, I love you, but I also love Oliver. I don’t understand why I can’t have both.” The look on her face changes from a disappointed and sad face to an angry, malicious face. “Are my ears deceiving me? You did not just tell me you love that boy.” She watches as the color drains from my face as I realise what I had just admitted to not only her, but also myself. My mother quickly reaches up and wipes

Every night, as I sat on the table with my younger brothers assisting them with their homework, I hear a familiar sound at the door. As she walks her heels click, and I can hear her searching her bag for her keys, the next thing I know the keys are in the lock and as it turns me and my younger brothers’ jump. We run to the door and indeed we scream in unison “Mommy’s home”, one by one she gives us a hug and a kiss. My mother asks us how our day was, and if we finished our homework, she then looks to me and said “did you cook and assist your younger ones with their homework”; I replied “yes mom”. As I warm the food, I take my mother’s purse, jacket, and shoes put them away and prepare the table for her to eat dinner. As I glance at the

When I rose from my deep slumber, we were halfway home and my dad was talking with my mom on the phone, so I decided that it would be amusing if I pretended that I was asleep and listened to their conversation. I deliberately realised that their conversation was about me. I gradually started to wonder what they could possibly be talking about that was so important, so I was still and listened as closely as possible. Then I heard it the only word that I didn’t want to hear. Sports. I started to become anxious and fearful as I started to wonder what they wanted to do with sports, and why they were talking specifically about me. My sister did plenty of sports too. My dad hung up the phone and I finally decided that it was time to open up my eyes. When I did open them up my dad glanced over at me and said, “Anna we need to talk.” I knew that at that moment something wrong and terrible was about to happen. All I said was, “Okay”,and I braced myself for what was about to happen. He fixed his eyes on the road again, and then looked back at me with a sorrowful look on his face that made his face look contorted, this is how I knew that I wasn’t going to like what he was going to say at all. He opened his mouth once, but nothing came out. He opened it the same way again only this time the words came spilling out of his mouth.

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

When I was young my mother and my father both had very different opinions on how you should raise a child. And since my father was the one paying the bills and bringing home the paychecks for a few years, I didn’t really get to see him much because he worked all day. So my mother was the one who raised me for the most part. At the time she would spoil me like crazy. If I asked for something the answer would always be yes, and if I didn’t get my way I would start having a fit until she finally caved in. You could’ve called me a crybaby, go ahead I would’ve said the same thing. Because I was. My father’s best friend who had two twins both the same age as me invited me, my father and my mother over to there place for an easter egg hunt easter morning. During the easter egg hunt, me and my friend both turned a corner at the same time. He saw an egg and as he was going to grab it, I saw it and tried to get it also. He got there before me and I started to have a fit right there and then. I could remember my mother rushing up to see what’s wrong. After I told her what had happened she got me to stop crying and gave me extra candy. My dad knew that by her raising me like this I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere in life without someone being there whenever something went wrong, so he told her to take the candy back and to tell me to get over it and that not everything in life will be fair. She took that the wrong way and got mad at my dad for “not being a good parent” because didn’t