Aiden's short Story collectioin

The room, the house, the family

(TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mention of abuse)

(Cover Image: found on Google)

The paper on the desk was White, an almost blinding Color that seemed to reflect the light of the old office lamp. The pencils where laid to the side neatl, ubbers next to them. The light of the lam flickkered, turning off, and on a short while later. It had been on for many, many years now, and the entie place was coated in a layer of dust; hr char, the Floor, the bed, everything! It looked like it hadn't been touched in centuries, which wasn't that far from the truth. The owner of this small, pink room, hadn't been there in over 13 years. The pens and papers, the floorboards, the soft pllows and plushies, the cealing lamp, the old curtains, the wardrobe which still had Pretty girly cllothes inside all wondered- would their owner ever return to them? Would anone ever enter here again?. It had been so Long... they had all given up hope If you left this small, sad room, the only Thing you would have been faced with was ore sadness. The rug on the foor was weathered, and there was a large puddle under a door a few feet further, where the bathroom was. If you walked a Little further, you would've come across a staircase, though the house would not recomend Walking it, as the wooden boards on there were rotting away slowly thanks to the big hole in the ceiling above letting in the harsh rain every so often. Downstairs was a Living room with a Couch and two arm chairs, a coffee table, a fire plce that hadn't been lit for a Long time. The Color on the walls and framed Pictures was Fading and the grandfather Clockhad stopped ticking Long ago. The chairs at the Dining table where thrown over from the las fight, bullet holes on the wall from hen he had reached for the shot gun, threatening them, threatening the Little Girl that had owned the room upstairs, and there was still blood where he had been shot by the mother as she tried to protet her llttle Girl before running away with her. If one listened closely, the could still hear the parents scream and fight in the kitchen as the llittle Girl sat at the table, drawing, dragging her Crayons over the White pages. She drew and drew. Herself, her mother, her Father. All of them. But she didn't dra them how they were, she drew them smiling. She drew them happy. In a cheerful houehold. Without fear, without worries, Living the perfect live. Just like all the Kids at School. But she knew... she knew that it wasn't true. She knew that her live would never be normal. She'd Always  just be the sad llittle Girl, with the sad Little Family, in their sad Little house, drawing her happy Little Dream world: