Short Stories

Leaving

The room was small. The walls where blank, as if they were waiting for someone to transform them into something beautiful. The floors where hard wood, and they squealed when a person walked on them. The glossy finish had been worn down so much so that the floors looked scuffed, dull, and worn. There was a single cracked window in the room that let the harsh mid-morning summer light flood in. Illuminating the dust motes that floated around the room.

The furnishings where sparse. There was a desk, neatly arranged with various items, in the center was a yellowing photograph of a happy family. It was housed in an ornate frame that had a corner chipped off. The chair looked as if a leg had been chewed on by some animal before that, and a single red checked pillow sat up against the back of the chair.

The bed was a small twin bed, the mattress looked lumpy underneath the matching red checked blankets. A tattered book sat on top of the covers. Next to the bed was a matching bedside table with a tall partially melted homemade candle on a silver stand with a candle snuffer next to it. On the opposite wall there was a dresser that contained neatly folded clothing. Above the dresser was a cloudy tarnished mirror that looked older than anything in the room.

The door was the real beauty, it was what made the room light up. The door was hand painted with bright colors. Flowers and birds surrounded a beautiful magnolia tree in full bloom. Petals falling from the tree to the ground, making it look like a fairy floss sea.

She glanced around her room. Her right hand clutching at the hem of her soft light green cardigan, her left hand crossed over her chest rubbing her right arm rhythmically. Her white dress flowed down to her knees, it was the nicest thing she owned. Her socks where white and rested a few inches above her brown worn combat boots. Her mousy brown hair was tied back intricately into a knot. Her mother had done it for her earlier.

She bit her lip, today was special, today was it. She closed her eyes, holding back the tears wishing that this day had never come. Her eyes glistened. She was fighting back tears. She needed to be strong, not just for herself but for her family.

She pulled her right arm into her chest and let out a forced sigh. She lowered her eyes and walked to the door, she reached the doorframe within a few steps, and then she stopped. She turned to look at her room once more, just once more. She reached slowly for the door, and touched the handle. The brass handle felt cool to the touch and smooth. Slowly she twisted the knob, and as she closed the door she looked into her room, forever leaving it behind.

The hallway was different shades of beige. She made her way down the hallway still clutching her chest. She walked down the creaky stairs to the first floor. When she reached the bottom of the steps she made a quick U-turn to the dining room where she could hear her family talking in hushed tones. The dining room was one of the nicer rooms in the house it had a cheery sage green wall paper and a table that her mother said that her father had made for her when she got married to my father. Her family continued to talk as she took a place at the edge of the table near her father and next to her little brother.

"Are you ready for today," her mother says as she places a warm bowl of oatmeal in front of her.

"I don't know," she says quietly looking at her oatmeal, she knows that if she looks at any member of her family she will break down. "I guess it is a part of life and I need to be prepared for it."

"Well, that's good darling." Her father said gruffly taking another bite of his oatmeal.

The rest of the breakfast continued in silence, today was not a joyous day for the people. It was a day of somber actions and feelings. Her mother cleaned up the plates, brought them to the kitchen, and grabbed her nicest sweater to through over her house clothing. She stayed close to her mother, hoping to remember the little things about her so she would never forget.

"Come on everyone, time to head on out to the square." Her mother headed twards the door. She followed suit. She opened the door and she held the door open as her little brothers zoomed out past her to the front lawn playing some version of the game of tag, that was edging dangerously close to a garden of well-tended roses. Her mother followed them out of the house. Chasing after the little boys who where too young to fully comprehend what was going to happen today for the family, for them, and for her.

"Boys!" She yelled after them. "Wait up and don't damage my rose bushes."

Her father came last. She let go of the door, and stepped out of the way so that her father would be able to close and lock the door. Before her father finished locking the house, she looked back at her home. It was small, square looking, and beige. It was a normal house with nothing really that special about it other than the pink rose bushes that her mother tended to night and day.

She grabbed her father's hand when he had finished locking the door, and they walked to the front of the lawn to meet her mother and brothers, who now had each of them by the hand. Her parents looked at eachother with a pained look on their faces, and then they left to walk towards the town square. Walking solomly. Towards her fate, and she knew in that moment that life would never be the same again.