Mischief Maker

April 12, 2009
By Mckenzie BRONZE, Monrovia, California
Mckenzie BRONZE, Monrovia, California
3 articles 0 photos 2 comments


I walked slowly into the house, its dark burgundy wood, now soaked with the salt water that was running out of my boots. My teeth were chattering together, making the whole house feel like it was shaking. I only got a step up the stairs before I heard my mom walk up.”Honey, why are you so wet?” She asked, eyeing the coat that hung off my shoulders. “I fell in,” I answered, trying my best to think of an explanation for the coat, “Somebody lent it to me”.
“Well, I shouldn’t, you know, be angry with you anyway. You’re almost eighteen,” She said, leaning her hand against my shoulder. “Mom,” I began, hoping she wouldn’t get into one of her little talks about how much I’d grown.”I know, I know… why you don’t go take a shower, I’ll have your brother bring your dinner up there,” She said soothingly, walking towards the mop.”Kay,” I murmured as I walked slowly back up the stairs.
The shower felt nice against my cold skin. The tiny beads rushing down my back, making my whole body vibrate. I breathed in deeply, only ending up coughing because of the burning still lingering in my throat.”Stupid water,” I whispered to myself as I turned the shower back off.
I wrapped the largest towel I had around my body and looked at myself in the mirror. My large grey eyes looked huge compared to my narrow face. My nose was curved downward and my lips bright pink. My light brown hair barely came down to my cheek, and my skin was hard and scratchy.

I shook my head violently, letting water fly out, getting the mirror wet.”Perfect,” I silently told myself as I looked at my reflection. My hair was now sticking in every which direction, making it look even longer.
I held onto the towel and walked out of the bathroom. My wet feet squished against the warm carpet, leaving a wet residue from my footprints. I looked over at my desk, there sitting in it was a plate of meatloaf. I gave it a disgusted glance and walked right past it.
I slowly crawled under the covers of my large queen sized bed. Not truly caring that I was soaking wet and not in my pajamas. All I wanted was to fall into a deep sleep and forget about the disappearing man, I’d seen before.
I took a deep painful breath and closed my eyes shut. Trying to only think of the sound of the waves crashing up against the sand and how beautiful the horizon had looked from the pier. How everything looked so much more real from my eyes then others.

That’s when I wish I hadn’t gone to sleep.
I was in a dark forest. Its large trees covering up most of my view. I heard voices, ones that probably came from young men. They sounded frightened. I could really only recognize one.
“You can’t do this,” The dark man from today screamed, “Some of us have a family to come home to. What do you think you’ll be thought of once you kill us?” There was a long pause. I took a step around one of the largest trees, and there I saw them. There were about six people all together. Two probably not even older then eleven. The man holding the gun looked the oldest.”I have to, Sam, you screwed me, I screw you,” He murmured, his voice acidic and panicky. He was possibly as nervous as the others.
“You want me, not them. Leave them alone,” His voice was rising at every word. Panic was slowly creeping up on his secure appearance.”You know what,” The gun man said, pointing the gun at Sam’s heart.”I’ll let them free, I really just need you,” before he even finished his sentence, there were two loud bangs and the sound of screaming filled my ears.
Footsteps ran past me and soon enough, you could only hear two pairs of lungs breathing other then my own. One of them barely. Sam was wrapped up in a ball, his breathing shallow and his eyes moving rapidly around his head. Like he was having a seizure.

The man who had shot him was still standing there, staring down at him, a menacing smile plastered on his face. He dropped his gun and leaned down towards Sam. He grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. What was he doing?

He grabbed Sam’s hair and threw his head towards the ground. Crack. His head snapped back, making him moan out in pain. "I didn't think you would bring a witness," The gun man muttered as he grabbed the gun and faced it towards the trees. That’s when I noticed, he was facing it at me.
Sam’s eyes followed and grew large as he saw my face. "I don't know her, leave her alone," He spit, grass flying from his mouth. "And oddly enough, I don't care," He said, pulling the trigger. But nothing happened, no pain, just a small click came from the gun. His eyes looked down and back up at me. Had he run out of bullets?

He scowled and cursed under his breath before taking off in the direction of the road. When I finally heard his car drive off, I ran towards Sam. He was again, wrapped up in a ball.
I kneeled down next to him, and pressed my fists up against my face. "Please be okay," I murmured to myself, tears oddly enough welling up in my eyes. I didn't know him; I had no reason to cry. But I did. I cried, as I watched his breathing grow slower and slower.

I shot up. Sweat pouring down my face. Or was that from my hair? I wasn't sure.

I looked around at my surroundings. I was back in my room, the same square infested blue walls, and the same light blue slightly damp carpet. Everything was back. I was in a towel and not a small tight skirt. Perfect.
But, what about Sam?

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