Snea's Attack: A Short Story

Unlike most people, I did not get to be a carefree child for long. Even though I always said that I could not wait to grow up, now I wish that it all did not happen so fast and early in my life. From eleven to twelve years old—that would be the period I describe as the time I had to put my big-girl pants on and face the real, cruel and unwelcoming adult world. In that time period, I can specifically pinpoint two major events that ended my childhood: my move from Russia to the United States and the birth of my baby sister Toma. To some those might not seem significant enough to change someone’s life to the extent that they changed mine; however those events molded me into the person I am today.

I thought she would laugh, but she didn’t. We were eating dinner together. My sister and dad were out to a movie. It was quiet, peaceful inside the house. My mother said, “You could be good at that.” When I asked her why she felt that way, she smiled. She said, “I know you’re always telling stories in your head.” She surprised me. I asked her if she thought my sister could be a writer and she said, “Not in the same way.” I wanted her to talk more about who she thought I could be, but my dad and sister came home. My dad was mad that we hadn’t made enough dinner for him, that we hadn’t thought to turn on the porch light, that the pesto had been left on the counter, that he always had to clean up after us.

We had just celebrated the new year, a sign of new beginnings. The past fall my mother and I had a fight and were only communicating on a need to know. I had a boyfriend at the time, we had been dating for almost two years. I loved him and he loved me and I felt like nothing could ever go wrong, boy was I wrong. It was a cold morning, I woke up feeling strange but I could not quite figure out why. Jacob, my boyfriend, was the one who put the idea in my head. A couple hours later my life had went from just a normal nineteen year old, to being a nineteen year old facing being a mother. I was pregnant and there was nothing I could do to change that. Telling my parents, especially my mother was nearly impossible, “[a]nd after seeing my mother’s disappointed face once again, something inside of me began to die” (Tan 321).

Although this was taken seven months ago, it feels as if it was just yesterday that my sister, Cortney, began a new stage in her life. She is no longer my bedroom neighbor just a hallway length away. The bathroom that was once shared is now only occupied by me, that bedroom next to mine remains vacant, and I am officially an only child -or so it seems. It’s crazy to believe we are already teenagers. As children, we got along much better than average siblings. We never fought, always shared clothes, and even shared friends despite the age difference. As time went on, we grew closer; making it even harder for us to be separated from each other long term. Next thing we knew, it was August 24, 2015, the time had come that Cortney was graduated and moved on to bigger and better things. My family took two cars over two hours away to say our goodbyes. Despite the fact that we did not want

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

Bills began to pile up once again and eventually stress took over. My father demanded all of the income made in the family in order to pay for the bills.”Where are your salaries?!” he would yell outside my bedroom door. Of course, my mom and siblings gladly obliged. By this time my older sister’s were in their early 20s and I and the sister before me were still little children. I was still young to understand everything, but as I look back, I realize we weren’t exactly the happiest

I buried my head into my mother’s shirt. My warm tears dampened her shirt, but I could tell she had no intention of pushing me away. There were other voices around me, but her’s was the only one that I cared to focus on. “You’re a strong and brilliant little boy,” she said to me, “you shouldn’t let this move break you down like this.” I knew she was right, but I was just so furiously confused that I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “How could you know?” I howled, “you’re not the one who’s spending hours alone every day because you’re too terrified to ask anyone if they want to play a game or hang out or even have a conversation!” My sobbing intensified. “No,” she quietly said to me, “but you’re not the only one who left Costa Rica to come here.”

Sometimes I feel a great responsibility towards them I cannot understand. The laughter of my friends, the shared difficult times in school, the obligatory group pictures, and the gleeful birthday parties, all within my heart I carry. I carry my older sister's love and devotion to me as they watch hopeful that I will only grow stronger under the things that I carry. The memories I have made with them are truly priceless, but sometimes it feels like I am alone in a cacoon and unable to let anyone in. I carry my physical body, hurt, scorned and unloved, yet also trusting and remaining resilient. My pride, my hopes, my dreams, all poisoned by lack of esteem, still I stubbornly clutch as I doggedly search for the remedy. I do not know what lies ahead, one can only plan out so much of her life, and the future is a great weight at certain points, and at others, a giant, golden ladder to the stars. Here I am, so soon to be an adult. Responsibility and Independence travel towards me as I simultaneously move toward them as if I were moving through honey. I carry high expectations of myself and the fear of failure in life. I seek to create expectations of my own volition, and create

It was a warm friday in the middle of June and Nora phillips just graduated. Nora is an 18 year old girl with long, silky, brown hair and bright blue eyes, a blue eyed beauty, her mother always called her when she was younger. She was tall and slim. She was considered perfect. Nora was adventurous, outgoing, creative, and loved everyone. She was said to always know how to make your day brighter. Her birthday was today, and she was about to move out from living with her parents. She loved her parents Karen and Bryce Phillips, but it was time for her to leave. She was going to college soon, and Nora was accepted into New York University. She was about to become an adult soon, and she was very excited. She had dreamed of college all her life,

Hazel was the only girl that was closest to my age. She was my only friend and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t say goodbye. A week later, we heard a knock at the door. I opened the door and it was a fancy couple. “We’re here to pick up the rest of Hazel’s belongings,” said the fancy lady. I gave them her belongings and they went on their way. Days past and I missed Hazel more than ever. I still couldn’t believe that the people that adopted her wanted an older child. It wasn’t new to me that the kids went “missing” monthly, but usually the parents chose the younger children. All the youngster were adopted first, then a new round of kids would fill up the house again. Hazel and I gave up on hope by the tenth year. I just can’t wait until I’m eighteen, just four more years and I'll be out of here. I sent the kids outside and I would clean the room and the kitchen. I had the same routine, until a year

He had an important assignment. He sounded so sad. You flash another smile and invite him over for some homework help, you may not be the smartest kid ever but you had some study skills. He looks at you and smiles hesitantly, saying how nice that would be. Four years later, you are sitting in a crowd with your fellow classmates, watching the nerdy kid from the road, your best friend, giving the valedictorian speech. He stands and says, “Life is not always what you expect it to be. The choices you make affect everyone around you. My freshman year I was alone. I was so tired of the stress, of the pain, that I made up my mind to do what I knew I needed to do. One day, I cleaned out my locker so my mom wouldn’t have to. I thought if I took it all home, I’d be able to feel better about my decision. It was a long walk home for a freshman carrying six large books and as I walked I planned how I would do it.” You gasp as you listen, you’ve never heard this, but you remember the day. “I’d lock my room; I can’t let my baby sister find me, it would hurt her too much. And I had to make sure to leave a note for my mom. I’d written a thousand already, what’s one

Before that, my eyes were not yet fully opened to the immense love my parents showered upon me. As I began to make friends, I started to hear small bits and pieces of their personal lives. My best friend could not hold a conversation with her mom, as they disagreed about everything there is to disagree about. Formal acquaintances would whisper of their mental or physical abuse, and I, a former homeschooled student, began to see the harsh reality of what many adolescents matured with.

Looking back on it, I realize that I actually had matured during 7th. grade. A younger version of me would have given up after receiving so much homework. In fact, a younger version of me probably would have lost the phone. I had not noticed my steady maturity, since I was so busy working, but my mom did. I’m glad that my mom saw that I had grown and matured, even though I hadn’t noticed. This event taught me that people don’t always mature all of the sudden one day. Rather, one can gradually grow without even knowing it, until years have passed! After the years pass, it is then that you realize that you have grown, when you are old enough to

It was a peaceful day in a crummy condo. Kade and I were sitting in his room. An hour of AP Social Studies homework and 7th grade English homework in when a gust of wind came through the closed window. How do I put this, there was a noise. A very dim, subtle noise. A ZING,ssive, easygoing way, and the women said to us in a soft, calm voice, “We are your parents, we want to take you home”.

In the beginning, I only knew the life of the spoiled baby in the family. Then five years down the road, came a nine pound bundle of sickness. As a baby my little brother Matthew was in and out of hospitals. The sickly baby was not the only thing my parents made, along with the baby came jealousy and competition. So from going to getting most of mom and dad’s attention, to getting virtually none, my life began to get pretty difficult as a five year old. Instead of spending the weekends at home with my family, I spent them wondering when I would get to see my mom and dad again. Getting bossed around by my older sister, Hannah and my older brother, Jacob, made me miss them even more. After seeing Matthew in the hospital I felt guilty for being jealous of all of the attention he was getting. But I was 5,and dumb. At this time, everything I knew about my family was changing. I had to learn to be a little more independent and at the same time be someone people could depend on.