ROSIE some children are simply born with tragedy in their blood - the night circus, erin morgenstern
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BANG! BANG!
"Rosie! Wake up!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I snapped my eyes open, awakened by the loud banging on my door. Pressing both my pointer finger and thumb on my eyes, I took a deep breath.
"Rosie! Are you awake yet?!" Daddy yelled from behind the door and kept knocking and knocking and knocking.
"Yes, yes! Wait a second," I exclaimed as I rubbed the sleep off my eyes.
I looked over at my bedside table to check the time on my tiny clock. 12:15 am, it read. My dad kept banging and banging and banging on my door, making me groan in annoyance. I threw off my blanket and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
"Rosie!"
"I'm coming!" I yelled and stood up groggily, and then made my way towards the door. "Jeez, can you be any louder?" I muttered.
Why does he keep banging on my door and yelling like a madman this early?
I unlocked the door and opened it wide, and saw my dad looking like he had just seen a ghost. His face was pale as the moon, and his eyes were wide, as if trying to take in the whole night's sky.
My brows furrowed with concern and confusion as I stared at my dad. "Hey, daddy, what's wrong? Are you alright? What happened—" He cut me off before I could finish my sentence.
"Pack your things, Rosie. You— we need to leave, quickly." Dad directed as he pushed me towards my closet.
"Wh— what? What do you mean? We're leaving? Where are we going? Why are we leaving? Daddy, what's happening?" I asked, rattled.
"No questions, Rosie. Just do what I said. Be quick!" He demanded.
"But, daddy—"
"Now, Rosie!" Dad snapped, his voice tense in warning.
I stared at him for a few seconds, my my lips lightly parted. Daddy rarely ever snaps at me, even if I've done something really stupid or annoying. I think he's really angry— or just— I don't know, is something bothering him?
"Rosie, please," he said quietly, though I could hear the fear in his voice. He was afraid. Of what? Why was he afraid?
I don't like this.
This doesn't feel right.
I nodded, acknowledging his demands "Okay, okay. S-should I pack light or— or what?" I asked, my voice filled with uncertainty.
"Doesn't matter. Just grab whatever clothes or shit fits in your bags and meet me downstairs. Hurry up," dad instructed, then turned and walked away, leaving me alone with a thousand questions in my head.
