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World of War Chapter 2 Draft 3

The black sedan pulled into the long winding driveway, it twisted and turned towards the house, where it was greeted with quite a magnificent sight, or so it would seem to the average eye. To me, this was a bore. It had been exciting in my younger years, but the daily wear and tear of the same scenery over and over again had worn down my appreciation for my house’s beauty.

The snow crunched loudly under the tires. I stared out the window, picking individual snowflake out as the drifted from the sky. I thought of everything I could to take my mind off things. My sister, my mom, my brother, I even went as far to think of Father’s murder, which was usually something that I did my best to push into the dark corners of my mind that God had made for such things.

The car lurched forward as it skid across the slick layer of snow, ending up almost running over my mother’s snow covered hedges, which would’ve made my day miserable. Following suit with my actions at the testing grounds, I let myself out of the car and opened and closed the large doors before the caffear even had the chance to turn off the engine.

As I opened the doors, my vision was greeted with a delightful surprise. The usually barren marble entranceway had been decorated with streamers in every color imaginable. Balloons tied to the white and gold trimmed balcony bounced around playfully. Small, foldable tables were positioned neatly in a horseshoe design facing the door. Each table was covered with a silk cover and upon the silk rested gifts or food or drink. In the middle of the arc rested a large, multi-tiered white cake, with pink, red and white roses donning the rim.

I stared awestruck at what had been laid out, and quickly too, I had barely been gone an hour. After I finally closed my gaping mouth and stepped out of the doorway, quickly untied my shoes and looked up into a cloud of silver glitter.

I brushed it off, sending it in all directions with a wipe of my hand. Slowly, I picked a small clump out of my eye and finally began to look around for the culprit. My hand rested on my pocket and I felt the small revolver hidden inside. I slid my hand into the pocket, grasping the firearm tightly, my thumb resting on the hammer, ready to c*** the gun if needed. Even if the attack was a harmless prank, it was dangerous to have someone with such motives in the house.
I surveyed the room: empty. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I was being watched from above. Another mob of silvery glitter hit the side of my head. I turned around the corner and into the face of my smiling older sister. My hand immediately left the gun as I pulled my hand out of my pocket; try to look as casual as a 15 year old can with a gun is his pocket could.

She looked the same as she did 12 years ago, and even though she had age on me, we were the same height. She was dressed in black suit, black pants, anything else that had to do with formal clothing she was wearing in black.

“Mom told me to say hi,” she explained before opening the door and closing it behind her. I heard the hum of a motor and the crunch of snow as she drove away. I felt it deep in my heart, fearful that that was the last time she’d she me alive.




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