The Monster Garage

July 21, 2008
By Sam Elwood, Banks, OR

I walked slowly from the car to the front door my dad was holding open for me. If I would have had it my way, I’d be in the house already leaving the garage behind. Unfortunately this was not the case, the weight of the large back of dog food was causing my arms to tremble and my steps to come up short. I made my way through the house getting slower by the minute as my arms threatened to drop the bag. My stomach sunk as I finally reached the steps that descended down into the outer room’s dark abyss. I quickly set the food down next to the steps and turned on the spot to leave the depressing place. However at that precise moment my only way out of the garage closed, as the door slammed in my face. Cool air gushed out of the cracks into my face as I stumbled back, catching my balance before I tumbled down. I grabbed for the metal knob, twisting it both ways. I found that it would not budge for whatever way I twisted. That’s when I realized the hard cold truth, that I was locked in the garage.

I felt the panic well up inside of my stomach. The darkness was everywhere, pressing down on me from different directions suffocating my lungs. My hands frantically scoured the near by walls, looking for the light switch. I shivered as the cold air swirled around me, I could imagine the temperature to be around 40 degrees. And here I was with nothing but my high school sweats, a plain white tee, and my orange Hollister sweatshirt. Not exactly the perfect winter outfit. I felt blind as I reached out in front of me looking for the one thing that would release me from the present darkness. No such luck came my way as I scraped the walls that now turned into shelves. “Ouch!” I yelped clutching my right hand to my chest. A pain had shot up my forefinger; it must have collided with some sort of tool from the garage. It had definitely been a tool, something big and bulky with prongs sticking out. One of the sharp prongs was what my finger had scraped against. With the painful cut and the low temperature in the crowded garage, I was fit to cry at any moment.

Instead I balled up my hurt hand into a small fist and thrust it into my mouth. I have no clue why I did this maybe to somehow put pressure on my wound, or just to stop my sobs from escaping, either way it was not exactly the best choice. The taste of blood filled my mouth as my jagged little cut bled freely. The taste oddly enough reminded me of money, which made me even more disgusted. The tears of my eyes ran down my face and into my mouth also, adding salt to my taste buds. I quickly withdrew my fist. All of my efforts had somehow been for nothing. I had still ended up crying.

The sound of my subtle sobs echoed off of the damp walls reverberating back towards me. I made up my mind in an instant, sucking in all of the breath I could I let out a loud chaotic scream. The bedlam only hurt my ears more. I felt the butterflies begin to fly as I realized for the first time that, nobody was even home! My dad and younger sister Nikki had gone to my other sister Charlie’s soccer practice. And my mom was miles away at her quaint little office in down town Portland, no doubt in session with a dejected client of hers. The sound of muffled foot steps reflected off the garage floor, oddly enough the noise made it sound like it was coming straight at me. I felt something feathery brush against my ankle, making me jump down the two shallow steps. As I fell my unhurt hand flew out in front of me grabbing at nothing, only to collide with a small stick that was poking out of the wall. And so the lights turned on.

It was extremely lucky that the lights happened to turn on at that precise moment. Because I found myself face to fact with four large prongs that were attached to a wooden stick that was balanced on a near by shelf. As my eyes readjusted to the sudden brightness I realized that this inanimate object was a rake and had been the tool that so ruthlessly cut my forefinger. The four prongs that seemed harmless were now laying just two inches from my nose. What a disaster that would have been, I would have received stitches and a nose job, all in one night! I took a deep breath filling my lungs with the odd gasoline smell that hung in the air. The smell was mixed in with car oil and animal droppings most likely from my cat Elliott. The trash can sat only feet away from my current position. What I’d give for some fruity perfume right now.

Two large oil stains lay on the gray floor where my mom’s Camry usually sat. My eyes traveled up to the two bikes that hung from the ceiling, wow! I was just glad that I was nowhere near that part of the garage. If those had fallen on me, I would have been crushed. “Meow!” I glanced down to find Elliott and his two emerald orb eyes staring up at me. So the thing that had brushed against my ankles and sent my flying through the roof was finally revealed to me. A small chuckle escaped my lips; my previous reaction to Elliott’s hello had seemed almost silly now.

In fact now that I thought of it… I turned towards the locked door. As I headed back up the brown wooden steps I wiped my bleeding cut on my sweats. The little wound could be compared to a paper cut now; I guess I didn’t really need any stitches. The lights had shown what a fool I had been. I laughed again as I pushed the big tan button at the top of the stairs. The garage door almost instantly creaked open. I quickly ran down the two steps into the setting sun. Allowing the real air to enter and refill my parched lungs. I glanced back towards the open garage, which suddenly didn’t seem to scary. I guess that I had never really seen the inside with the lights on. I rolled my eyes again at my stupid ness, I had learned my lesson. The next time I was put in that sort of situation (which would probably be close to never), all I had to do was turn on the lights.

The author's comments:
I wrote this for english class, it supposed to be overly descriptive.

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