Not This Year

May 19, 2010
By Anonymous

When the leaves start to fall, I know it’s that time of year, fall. It’s when I get to bring out my cute new coats and show them off. But this year was not the same. My mom and dad had both lost their jobs. So this year my room had no clothes and worse, my house had no food. We had to give the dog to a good home ‘cause we did not want to see it starve to death. We sold all of our chairs to buy bread for the week. When our bread was gone, we went two more days with no food, just juice. My dad could not bear to see us as skin and bones. He sold our fridge, our couch, my books, and his babe- his car. My face gained back its cheeks and shade of pink. For a few more months, we had food and heat in our house. I was glad I got to come home to a warm house, which I used to care less for. But day by day, I watched the stack of cash sink. My dad would come home late at night with at least half a pint of booze in him. Soon, our cash was long gone and so was our house. We slept in a home that was meant for those who did not have one. But the kids soon got on the Big Man’s nerves and we were asked to leave. We did not have a place to stay and it got dark real fast on those cold days. By now, my dad was free from hell’s booze and led us to the back of a store. He laid us down one by one. We found some old books and he put them on us to keep us from the cold. I grinned wide when it was my turn to get “tucked in”. He gave me a weak laugh. I laid on my back and watched the moon. We did not wake to see one more day.

The author's comments:
This is a one syllable story I wrote for my creative writing class. It's about a regular family who was deeply affected by this economy. Once they lost everything, they only had themselves.

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