Empty Fridge, Empty Life

All I do is stare, numbed with no emotion I stare at the empty fridge in disbelief. Filled with nothing I realize that my daily routine of stuffing my face with food will not be completed today, even worse, I realize that there’s nothing for dinner.

The panic begins.

A short story.

A bus chugging along getting closer. A girl, playing with a ball unaware of the world around her, lives about to be changed forever. She runs on the road directly in front.

It’s all over in an instant.

 One bus, one girl, that’s all it takes to change someone’s life forever. All I can do is watch stuck here, helpless.

Toast

The toast was burnt. He buttered it, Heaped it with jam and threw it at her. Flying through the air the toast instantly became a flying weapon with the sole intention of harming her. She ducks in a desperate attempt for safety but it was too late, the toast collected her smashing into her glasses which are covering the bruises from the other night. Covered in butter and jam she cowers in a pitiful attempt to protect herself from the flying utensils hurled at her in his hysterical act of rage. She lies there, crying in the dress she bought especially for him, covered in blood.

Being an Observer

Using your senses is an important part of creating engaging authentic writing. The reader should be able to see, hear, touch, taste, smell what’s happening in your piece if you want them to believe it.

I have Forgotten……..

When I think about it I have realized that I have forgotten most of my primary school years. Mainly the grades 1,3 and 5. Although now being quite a few years ago I would expect myself to at least be able to remember something, apart from a few faint memories I can’t really remember anything.

Learning

“Seatbelt?”
“Yes”
“Handbrake?”
“Off”
“Mirrors?”
“Fine”
“All right, whenever you’re ready.”
These are my father’s words of encouragement? I think to myself. Thanks very much Dad. I suppose he’s more nervous than me. I am about to go for my first drive in he’s $45,000 car so I don’t really blame him for not feeling comfortable.
Just before I set off I laugh to myself at the conversation we had only a few minutes ago. Dad and I decided it was safer for him to supervise me, Mum almost had nervous breakdown just thinking about me driving. She doesn’t want me driving, if she had her way I’ll have to wait until I’m 21 you even think about getting a license. However I’m glad that I know she’s looking out for me and trying her best to keep me safe.
Dedicated to watching my mirrors as I back out of the driveway I notice how limited my vision is. I notice Mum standing at the gate nervous but sure that I’m safe with Dad.

A memory

I remember at 8:00 every weeknight Dad would walk through the door, tired from a full days’ work. I remember how excited I got and how what started out as a game and was then a ritual would begin the moment he opened the door. I would hide from him, and although in the same spot every night behind the chair, Dad would always pretend he didn’t know where I was. Searching through the house he would yell “Where are you?” so I knew he was looking for me. Waiting for him I could never control myself, I would giggle and squirm with excitement. When he eventually found me he would pop up and yell “Got ya!”. He would lift me up and hug me enormously. I will always remember the silly face he would make, Squinting his eyes and pouting his lips, I loved every minute of it. The ritual was complete for the night, I had to then wait for it to begin at 8:00 the next night.