Shadow
By Sarah Elson
I watch as my mother quickly pushes me into the dank, cold cellar.
"Mommy? What are you doing?" I ask as another bang sounds through the wood of my bedroom door.
"Honey can you stay calm for mommy?" she asks with a strained smile on her face.
A sob escapes her lips as she closes the basement door with a sickening thud. I try to make my way through the cold basement hallway. Its ceiling lined with cobwebs. I was walking toward the light at the end of the hallway, but something stops me in my tracks. A scream fills the cavern making a shiver run down my back. Somehow I knew it was my mother.
Without thinking I turn back around and run toward the cellar door. Peeking through a sliver in the door I see something that turns my blood cold. My mother lying on the floor not moving. Pushing the door open enough to see; I watch in horror as a knife plunges into my fathers stomach, blood flows from him like a waterfall. Fear seizes me and without thinking I slam the door with a bang. Sprinting back down the hallway, and out of the cellar, careering into the darkness of the woods.
Hiding behind an oak tree that's dying from age, I swiftly turn around to see fire devour the chimney, and start to consume the rest of our small cottage, with sickly, beautiful flames. I watch in grief as the fire hits the gas tank and tears fill my eyes. The explosion starts to eat away at the surrounding trees. I walked slowly toward my childhood home. BOOM! Another explosion hit the house, in fear I dropped to the ground and covered my head. When daylight starts to creep into the valley, I finally raise my head and look at the skeletal remains of my house. I start to get up, but am stopped by a cold feeling in my lower stomach. Turning my head away from the house I looked down to see a piece of glass bigger than my hand imbedded in my stomach.
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I look out the window at the big, plain, house in front of me, and sigh.
"Jinx?" says a soft voice belonging to my social worker.
She places a hand on my small pale wrist trying to comfort me. I glance at Summer my social worker; I was trying to delay the inevitable.
"Let's go." I say pushing open the door to the small bug.
As I walk slowly up the steps, I can't help but notice how cheery the neighborhood looks compared to the old shack I used to live in. An oak door stands on a nicely sized wrap around porch. The tall oak door opens, reveling a small petite women, with long golden hair. Her smile gently touches her big brown eyes that were filled with concern.
"Come on in! Oh and my name is Jenny!" she says with a thick Georgian accent.
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I wake quickly from the nightmarish dream. My pajamas are covered in sweat. My mouth crusty with chapped lips, and the feeling of just being hit by a bus. I groan getting up, and put my elbows down behind me.
"Good morning!" Jenny chirps as she flings open my attic door.
"Jenny it's too early for your good moods." I grouch, sliding the covers back over my face.
Jenny huffs but doesn't say anything, instead she marches over and rips the covers off, while picking my black locks out of my face and feels my forehead.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asks her face crinkled with worry.
I smile and say; "Jenny don't worry so much, you don't want wrinkles."
