All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
All I Wanted
A young girl sits alone on the front porch of her house on her family rocking bench. Her hair is darkened by the rain, making it an autumny red; it hides her bowed head. You would think she was asleep as she didn’t move or make more noise than an even breath.
She doesn’t move, even as the rain gets louder and the sky starts to rumble. Her body immobile, her brain does little more than a sputter.
The front door opens and a woman steps onto the porch. “Hannah,” says the woman.
Hannah looks up through her dark red hair.
“Hannah, you can’t just sit out here in the rain. You’ll catch sick. Come inside sweetie.” The woman goes over to Hannah and helps her up. “That’s right,” she says, “easy. You’ll get it back eventually. Don’t worry.”
The next night Hannah sits on the front porch in her favorite spot with a mirror in her hand. She knew that she isn’t really pretty, but she forgot sometimes. She runs her free hand through her auburn hair and down her cheek. She then moves to her eyes and stares at them. Hannah always thought of the ocean when she looked at her eyes.
Then she notices something white and square on her forehead. She takes her hand to the white square, but stops.
“Hannah! What are you doing!” the lady runs out onto the porch, about to cry. She goes over to Hannah and takes away the mirror. “Come on, sweetie… let’s go back inside.” The lady helps Hannah to her feet and they both go inside.
It was dinner time, but Hannah was sitting on her favorite spot on the front porch. “Sweetie,” it was the lady again, “let’s go inside, it’s time for dinner.”
Hannah just sits there and frowns.
“I’m going back inside,” she points to the door, “and I’m going to eat.” The woman makes a motion imitating that of scooping food into her mouth. Hannah doesn’t move. “Sweetie,” she sighs. The woman heads for the door, but turns around. “Ya know,” she says, “I’m starting to think you love that bench more than your own mother, HUH?” She chuckles, “I’m just joking, sweetie. If you want to eat dinner out here, that’ll be fine.”
Hannah and her mother eat dinner on the front porch. Hannah’s mom feeds her daughter steak and mashed potatoes. After they finish the steak and potatoes, Hannah’s mom goes inside to get dessert.
A few minutes pass and a car pulls into the driveway, parks, and a man steps out. “Hannah!” the man runs over to Hannah with a huge grin.
Loud, clashing noises- those of plates swiftly hitting the floor- come from inside of the house. “Hannah? Who’s there?”
Hannah’s eyes widen and she stands up, “…Dad..?”
The man grabs Hannah’s hand. “Yes, where is your father?”
Hannah tilts her head and her mouth gapes.
Hannah’s mother runs onto the porch with a steak knife in her right hand. “Who’s there? Why are you-” she stops and her face flickers from confusion to anger. “What are YOU doing here? It wasn’t enough to move in on my husband? Come back to take away my daughter TOO?”
“What? No. I just want to see Michael. I need to-”
“Well, that’s too bad. You couldn’t do it while I was away like you did for two months?” she swishes the knife by her side.
“He hasn’t been answering my calls,” says the man.
“Damn right, he hasn’t been answering your calls!” The woman stops to force out a short laugh. “NO ONE is going to hurt my daughter. Not even my own husband. Do I need to kill you too?” the mother says grinning. She makes a jabbing motion with the knife.
“Kill me too? Who’d you-”
“NO ONE. Is going. To come between ME and MY daughter.”
“You KILLED him?!” the man takes a step back.
Hannah’s mom takes a step forward, ready to pounce. “And who’s to stop me from doing the same to you?”
The man, now crying and slowly backing away, sputters out, “How-how could you KILL your ow-own husband?”
Hannah’s mother is still walking towards the man, her knife raised higher; tears are slowly rolling down her cheeks. “He killed me the same day I killed him,” her voice is not as loud as before. The woman ducks her head and runs at the man, “Hrrgh!”
The man avoids the lunge and runs over to Hannah, who is still standing on the edge of the porch, mouth agape. The man grabs Hannah by the shoulders and ducks behind her.
“Don’t bring my daughter into this!” screams Hannah’s mother.
“F****** psycho! What’s the point in killing me?” the man sheds more tears.
“Hannah. Get out of the way,” her mother commands as she reaches the steps of the porch. “Sweetie… We don’t want another boo-boo like last time. Do we?”
Hannah grips the man with a backwards hug, “Monster.”
Her mother’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to let out a puff of air. “Wh-wh-what?”
“MONSTER!” Hannah screams.
“How- but…” her mother stumbles, “but Hannah, I love you. I love you and the first thing you say to me in AGES, you call me a MONSTER!”
Hannah takes a step back, pushing the man back too. “All I have left of dad…” she turns to the man.
The mother’s face scrunches and her lip quivers; she whimpers, “YOU HAVE ME!”
Hannah shakes her head, “Dead.”
“HRRGGH!” her mother screams. “HHRRRGGGHHHH!! How dare you talk to your mother like that! THAT MAN is the reason your father is DEAD!” She stomps onto the porch, and picks up into a run as Hannah and the man start to back away. She gets to Hannah, “Get out of my way, you B****!” and shoves her over.
“EEEK!” Hannah screeches and hits her head on the corner of the rocking bench, collapsing into a heap on the porch and creating a puddle of blood.
The mother takes off after the man who is now sprinting through the yard. “Get back here, homewrecker!”
The mother starts to gain distance on the man. “HRRGH!” She throws the steak knife at the man and hits him in the back of the thigh.
“Aaah!” the man screams, falling to the ground.
The crazed woman picks up the knife and jumps on top of the man. She screams and stabs him repeatedly. The pool of blood under the two grows and blood splatters all over the mother’s clothes, face, and arms. She keeps stabbing long after he is dead, over and over, until she abruptly falls flat in the pool of blood. The woman does not move.
Two arms reach out of a hole. The arms are caked with sweat, blood, and dirt; they lift their body out of the hole, and the sight is strange. The arms belong to a small woman with long, red hair and ocean blue eyes. The red head’s expression is vacant and she shows no signs of fatigue.
The hole that the she pulled herself out of is located in her backyard next to two mounds of dirt of approximately the same length and width.
The red head grabs the shovel that she used to dig two of the holes in her backyard. She then starts to fill the third hole with dirt. As she does this, she starts to hum, for she can’t remember the lyrics to the song she wants to sing.
More and more dirt goes into the hole until the red head eventually reaches the last scoop of dirt. Still humming, she scoops the dirt up, but holds it over the grave for a moment. Holding the dirt over the grave, she remembers the last words of the song. “And if… that horse and cart falls down…” she tosses the dirt onto the mound and thumps it until it’s flat, “you'll still be the… sweetest… little baby in town.”