Horrible Babysitter

November 25, 2008
By Sierra Schram, Everson, WA

When your five years old do you expect your babysitter to take you to a rundown, abandoned house? Well I didn’t. It all started when Lisa (my babysitter) asked my brother and me, if we wanted to color. “Yes,” my brother and I yelled.
“Ok well we have to go across the street to the house behind the raspberries,” Lisa explained. I could tell my brother Levi was worried and didn’t like the idea.
Right away he said, “NO I don’t want to anymore.” I was way too excited to color to even think about whether it was a good idea or not.

Grabbing our favorite colors we, then started our walk to the house. We got to the end of the raspberry fields, were there’s a barbwire fence. Lisa and I climb over the fence, making my brother crawl under. Levi was too little to climb over. After we got past the fence we had to walk a little more.

When. There it is. It’s white, the paints chipped. The windows are boarded up, with trash all over, around the house. That’s when I got super scared. My heart was pounding super fast, and hard. We go towards the house to walk up the steps. Parts of the steps are broken; creaking like an old house. The front porch is piled high with trash. As well as a couch that looks like a rat had made crazy holes in it. “Lisa I’m scared I don’t want to be here anymore,” I say trembling.
“Well were here so…were going in,” Lisa stated. Looking at the house, there’s not even a door; there is a board covering the door. Lisa had to move the board, along with all the garbage so we could go in. After the doorway was clear we walking into cautiously. The walls were white as snow, with slices on the walls; as if someone cut then with a knife. Sitting all alone in the corner of the room there was a baby cradle that was trashed. The smell of the house made me wheezy from all the garbage.
“That’s the wall,” Lisa states, pointing towards the wall with slices in it. Grabbing our color crayons blue, red, pink, and green; we start to draw on the wall. Looking around while drawing, there are two doors to the side of us. I tell Levi and Lisa. Lisa walks over to the doors, tries to open then but they are locked and won’t budge. Deep down I have this bad feeling about this house, I felt like something/someone was in the house. But I continued to color till Lisa said we could leave.

All of a sudden there was a loud boom. Like something fell and was banging against the door that was locked. Scared to death, I jumped every time the big boom happened. It was like the speed of a basketball bouncing on the ground. “Boom, Boom, Boom.” I turn around look for Lisa; she had ran out of the house leaving my brother and I in the house, both standing there in shock!
“Levi come on,” I yelled. I grabbed his hand and we ran out of the house, Lisa had took of running. She had left us behind, we took off running after her; trying to catch up. Almost in tears, I was so petrified; finally we catch up to her when we get to the barbwire fence. Lisa climbed over the fence super fast. Not even thinking to help my brother and I. I hurry and climb over the fence, thinking my brother would climb under. Right as I jump down my brothers climbing up the fence behind me. Slowly but he’s making it. He gets to the top about to jump all the way over. There he goes, he jumps. His left back thigh got caught on the rusty old barbwire fence. He’s hanging upside down, yelling, and blood rushing down his whole leg. The skin is the only thing holding him up. Lisa sees the blood, jumps up and down, yelling and screaming. In tears she yells,” I hate blood.”
“Get him you’re the babysitter!” No budge. She won’t even move to try to help him up. So I, a five year old have to go and help her little brother; that’s hanging from a barbwire fence! I reach up, barely able to reach. Push his back up, and unhook his thigh from the fence. Then he finally fell, untangled from the fence, he lay their on the ground.

Finally Lisa decides to help. She picks him up, and gives him a piggyback all the way back to the house. This was not even that far. When we finally get in the house, we call my parents; and tell them everything that happened. They got home within ten minutes. Rite as they pull in the driveway, Lisa then bolted. My parents come rushing in the door. We tell them the whole story. My parents were mortified a babysitter would do that. They called Lisa talked to her. The stories seemed to match up. So you tell me your ideal babysitter or not?

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