Opening my eyes in the morning, the sun shone through the gap in the curtain, causing me squint into the light. A smile spread across my face, for at that particular moment the alarm clock on the side on my bed rang aloud. It did not take long for my mum to respond, as a cheerful, voice chimed from down stairs. "Wakey, wakey sleepy Mally, your breakfast is ready." it sang up to me. Breakfast, music to my ears.
With a jump out of my bed, a bound down the hall and a rush down the stairs. I jump over the last step, skidding over the laminated flooring, through the hall and into my seat by the long marble breakfast table. The force I jumped into to the chair, sent it spinning around and around, the surrounding kitchen a blur past my eyes, making me dizzy. As it slowed to a halt, a tall woman with long golden brown hair, which curled down to her waist, turned to face me, a stack of pancakes on a plate in her hands.
"Morning Pumpkin, now eat up and get ready for school, we don't want you being late now, do we?" her mouth filled with two rows of brilliant sparkling teeth smiled towards me, and I could not help but smile back and eat my breakfast at a super pace.
With breakfast washed down with a cold glass of orange juice, I headed back to my room, where my uniform lay new and crisp, the first day back at school, a new year and new fresh clothes, ironed and ready. Slipping them on with care, I folded up my pajamas, made my bed and took my place in the bathroom, taking the time to brush each individual teeth thoroughly and scrub my face.
Backpack on my back and about to leave, my father pulls me into a headlock from behind and ruffles my hair, so I have to straighten it back out again. "Hey champ, you ready for school? I could give you a lift this morning, it being your first day and all that?" The handsome male with jet black hair suggested, opening the front door for me. "Gee thanks dad!" I cheered, hoping happily out the door.
Slam. The door swung closed sharp behind me, and as I turned around, the bright sun faded and I was left staring up at a dingy little council house in the middle of south east England. It was dirty and grimy, and even from here outside I could hear the loud snores echoing from the window of my mums room, I sighed and walked down the path, scratching a mark off my jumper.
I am Mally Dale, aged 14 and counting, this is my life, and how I deal with it you ask? Well, I just dream.
