Noah's Winter

My mother, Willow, rushed over to me with a small yellow bucket and put it under my chin. The amount of vomit that came out of me was sickening. Finally, when I was able to breathe, I rested my pounding head back down on my pillow. I hated the flu, it was the worst thing ever. My mom put a pale, freckled hand on my forehead to check my temperature. She let out a worried sigh. "John, call Winter's doctor, please. She is running a temperature." My mom pushed a stray lock of my sweaty red hair behind my ear. My father picked up the home phone and began to dial.

My mother and I were spitting images. We had red slightly curly hair, pale skin that was sprinkled with freckles, and deep gray eyes. My father and big brother, Jake, also shared similar features. They had light blonde hair, brown eyes, and muscular builds. Though my mother and I had alike personalities, my brother and father shared nothing in common. My brother was 18 and he thought he knew everything. I guess that was expected for a young adult.

I felt my stomach turn and I yanked the bucket back to my face. When I pulled the bucket away a gasp escaped my lips. The bucket was filled with red fluid. My stomach turned and my head began to spin, the last thing I remember was my mother rushing to me, terror filling her facial expression.