Wandering

Wandering

She wanders around the town at night, tears stained into her eyes. Her sickly figure shows that she has never been fed. Her shadow moves slowly... The sky is filled with- nothing... The town's people... Lying in bed, terrified. She was only 'visiting.'

published on October 234 reads 3 readers 0 not completed
Chapter 1.
Lost

Lost

        She slept, unbothered by the night howling. Her silence was disturbing, her parents watched her oh so carefully. When they weren't watching her rest, they fought, and fought. The poor child went mute about two weeks after she learned to speak. Her parents worried, and they couldn't send her off to school. They lived in a gloomy aura, and all the neighbors were afraid of their capabilities. The family was poor, and the chlid was suffering. She was not fed, nor was her parnets.

        "We haven't even named her," the child's mother yelled, "She's being treated poorly!" Her parent's where fighting again. "We can't afford to feed the whole family, and what does it matter if we starve our child? She doesn't even speak to us!" Her father screetched.
"We need to feed her! She's weak, and can barely walk! She's seven years old now1 she should be treated normally!" Her mother cried.
"I am not feeding her!" Her father screamed, and drove the car away. The child's mother sighed, with tears in her eyes. "Why," her mother cried.

        In the morning, the child woke up. She went to the kitchen, and sat down. She looked up at her mother hopefully, and her mother shook her head. "I-I-I... Your father took all the money again," her mother said quietly, her voice shaky. The child pointed to the front door, and her mother barely smiled. "Yes," she whispered, and the child grinned. She went to the gas station, and stood in front of the desk. The clerk smiled, and handed the child two dollars. She walked home, with a small box of cereal. She set it down in front of her mother, and she smiled. "Thank-" her mother looked at the door.

        "Hurry! Hide!" her mother yelled. The child's father walked through the door, with a shotgun. He stomped up the stairs, and went into the closet where the child lived. He looked in every nook and cranny, and he couldn't find her. He looked in the kitchen, and found her hiding in a cabinet. He grabbed her arm and threw her to the wall. He shot at her, over, and over. Her mother cried, and tried to stop him. He shoved her mother, and started shooting at her.

        The funeral was held about a month after the child's mother had died, of 'unknown reasons.' It was at the gas station across the street, because they couldn't afford a real one. Her father left her locked in her closet, and finally she gave up. She couldn't stand her life any further, and she died. She had slammed her head on her wall, over and over, harder and harder. The pain was unreal. She aged in hell. And she was a clever girl, lost in her own mind...
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