Here is my story. The only thing I am missing is a TITLE. That is the most important thing of all. If anybody has any ideas please let me know. I would also like to hear your opinions if you think anything should be changed. Enjoy!:)
Palm
trees waved in the wind, as if they were beckoning to passing strangers. They were placed at the entrance of the small
town. Breaking off from the main road,
several subdivisions led to family cul-de-sacs. The houses stood peacefully in a half-circle. All of them were actually peaceful, except for
one. That house belonged to Mr. Selma, the
manager of a grocery store. He lived
with his wife, Mrs. Selma, his 15 year old son, Bretton, and his six year old
twins, Alicia and Alex.
“Bretton!
It is time to wash your hands for dinner.” Mrs. Selma shouted up the stairs. Bretton heaved a sigh and slammed his book
shut. He ran his hand through his thick
brown hair, rolled off his bed and headed toward his bathroom. As he was washing his hands his twin siblings
came bounding into the bathroom, laughing and giggling. They bumped into Bretton and instantly fell
quiet.
“Cut
it out, guys. You made me get water all over my shirt.” Bretton furiously retorted. Alicia and Alex shrunk back in fear.
“We’re
sorry.” They answered in unison. He
looked at them in disgust and walked out of the room and started trudging down
the stairs. He could hear the twins
laughing again. He quickly glanced at
his mom, who was finishing making dinner and plopped down into his chair with a
heavy sigh. His mom carried to the
table, steamed vegetables, meatloaf, and baked potatoes.
“Alex
and Alicia! Time for dinner.” Mrs. Selma
called up the stairs. Thumps and giggles
told the whole world when the twins arrived. Bretton glared at them and shoved a bite of
food into his mouth.
“Uggh!
What is this? I’m not eating it. It tastes horrible.” Bretton choked on his meatloaf. He dropped his fork on his plate and pushed it
away, with a horrible expression spreading like a virus on his face.
“Bretton!
It is meatloaf. Please stop making such a fuss about it. The twins are going to follow your example.” Mrs. Selma added in a low voice, glancing at
the twins.
“Mommy,
what is this?” the twins questioned. Mrs. Selma sighed, pulled out a chair and sat
down putting her head in her hands. She
tried to block out the twins and Bretton arguing. Suddenly, everybody fell quiet when they heard
the garage door open.
“Daddy’s
home!” the twins excitedly shouted. The
table shook and chairs toppled as Alicia and Alex raced to give their father a
hug. Bretton sighed in exasperation,
while his mother went around picking up napkins, silverware, and chairs the
twins had scattered in their haste. Mr.
Selma clomped through the door with Alex and Alicia holding onto him.
“OK.
It’s time to get off, you goofs.” Mr. Selma commanded. Alicia and Alex ran to the table while Mr.
Selma took off his tie and tossed it on the back of a chair.
“Well,
how are you guys doing?” Mr. Selma asked
Bretton and Mrs. Selma.
“Fine.”
Bretton cut short. He stood up quickly
almost knocking down his chair. “I’ve got to finish my leftover school.”
Bretton pushed his chair in and ran up the stairs. Up in his room, he opened the book that he had
been reading. He was reading, but not
paying attention instead he was listening to what was going on downstairs. He could hear the twins chatting away their
day to their father. Occasionally he
could hear his father and mother exchanging a word every once in a while. Thoughts were running through his head, when
they were rudely interrupted by Alex bursting into his room.
“Alex,
get out right now!” Bretton roared at
the little boy.
“I
was wondering if you would like to play a game with me.” Alex asked not really noticing that he just
got yelled at.
“No.
I don’t have time. I need to finish my school. Now, get out, before I get Dad.” Bretton
threatened. Slowly, Alex walked out of
the room. Sighing, Bretton went back to
his book. He quickly finished the
chapter. He sat up when he heard heavy
footsteps in the hall.
“Time
for lights out.” That was one of
Bretton’s least favorite sentences in the whole world.
“I
just finished school. I don’t get any
free time.” Bretton grumbled under his
breath.
“Bretton,
lights go out now!”
“I
wish I didn’t live here.” Bretton
complained. “All of my friends get to
stay up late.” He hopped out of bed and turned the light off. He slowly made his way back to his bed and lay
down. He stared at the ceiling until he
fell asleep.
Bretton
groaned and rolled over. He pulled the
blankets over his head. Something sharp
poked out of the mattress he was sleeping on. Cracking his eyes open he examined the bed. He could barely move underneath the weight of
his blankets. Hmm, he thought, Mom must
have put more blankets on. He pulled out
a feather from the mattress.
“What
is a feather doing in my bed?” Bretton
asked, now more awake.
“To
answer your question, young sir, you have a feather in your bed to make it so
you are sleeping on a cushion instead of the wood,” a strange voice said from
the corner of the room. Startled,
Bretton sat straight up. He noticed that
he was not in his own bed, nor in his own bedroom. Peering around the curtains that hung around the
bed he saw the figure who had talked. The
speaker had short brown hair, an apron, and intense eyes.
“What
am I doing here? Did you steal me from
my bed while I slept?” Bretton asked,
while getting increasingly worried.
“You
know exactly why you are here. In fact,
you asked to come here,” the character answered.
“What!
I would never ask to come here. You’re insane. I would never ask to come to a place where
there are FEATHERS in my bed!!” Bretton
shouted.
“Well,
you don’t have much time to waste. Breakfast is almost over. Your clothes are on the chair. I assume you will be able to find your way to
the kitchen to eat your food. I will be
waiting for you.” And with that the man
walked out of the room.
Bretton
threw off his blankets and got off the high bed. The moment Bretton’s feet touched the ground
he yelped out in surprise. The floor was
ice cold. Shivering, he got his clothes
on. Muttering to himself he opened the
gigantic door and stepped out. Looking
both ways into the hallway, he saw endless doors, curtains and deer heads but no
people. The only thing he could hear was
the padding of his feet as he peeked into random rooms. One caught his eyes. Pushing the doors open he saw such royalty, he
never imagined was possible. One rug
swallowed the floor in numerous colors.
Hanging from the ceiling was a massive glass chandelier. Bretton stood
still in awe.
“Ahem.”
A familiar voice rang through the quiet.
Bretton whirled around in his spot, heart thumping wildly. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that
is was just the person who was in the bedroom.
“This
is not the kitchen. I thought I told you to go to the kitchen.”
“Well,
you did, but…” Bretton hesitated.
“To
get to the kitchen,” the small man started, “you have to go down this hall and
up a couple staircases. This time I hope
I will see you there.” And with that the little man left. Quickly, Bretton ran
after him, but when he came to the hall he could see nobody. Looking behind him nervously he shut the
massive doors and started walking down the hall again. At the end of the seemingly perpetual hall
there was a staircase. Sighing, he sat
down on the bottom step and stared straight up to the very top of the
staircase. His stomach growled. Urged on by his hunger he trudged up the
stairs. Bretton wiped the sweat from his
brow, when he finally reached the top of the stairs. Looking down Bretton forced himself to keep
in whatever remains of supper he had left in his stomach. Turning around he yelped in surprise. Sitting on a little chair was the mysterious
man. The little man sat watching
Bretton’s every move, without blinking.
Slowly, he lifted his arm and pointed to his left. Nodding his thanks Bretton headed the
suggested direction. When he looked back
the man was gone. Running with
anticipation and fear, he nearly missed the kitchen. Skidding to a stop he peeked into the almost
abandoned kitchen.
Sitting
at the table, with a bowl placed in front of him sat the man. He looked up as Bretton entered the empty
room. Nothing implied that it was a
kitchen. In the center of the room there
was a table, with only two chairs. There
was no stove, oven, fridge, or even a microwave.
Cautiously, Bretton edged toward the
table. The man pushed the bowl toward
Bretton. When Bretton sat down, the
chair groaned in protest. Looking a
little unsteady, Bretton stared at the unappetizing grub in his bowl. He grimaced and remembered the wonderful
meatloaf that he had chosen not to eat the other night. Instantly, he regretted not eating it. Taking up his spoon he managed to eat several
bites, the little man watching him the whole time. He nearly choked on it. The food seemed to clump all together right
as he swallowed. He bounced up from the
table and searched the cupboards for a glass.
The cup was cracked in several spots and looked as if it had not been
washed in a very long time. He looked
around for a sink, but all he saw was a pump.
Pumping wildly, he finally managed to get several drops of water into
the bottom of the cup. Quickly, he was
able to swallow some of the water before it trickled out the bottom of the cup
and down his arm.
“Mm.
Thanks for the food. What do you do around here?” Bretton asked.
“Well,
there is cleaning, organizing, making food.
In general, work.” The little man finished with a little smile on his
face.
Bretton
looked around him with a sad look on his face.
Oh man, what did I get myself into? He wondered. Bretton stood up and thanked the man for the
food, and quickly left.
Bretton
stood in the doorway of the room that he had awakened in. Not wanting to work at all he lay down on the
floor and stared at the ceiling. After
several minutes he managed to find animals, in the pattern of the cracks of the
ceiling. Getting up off the floor, he
walked over to the massive window.
Pulling his sleeve down over his hand, he tried to rub some of the dirt
and grime off the glass so he could actually look out. Once he noticed that his effort was worthless,
he decided that he could at least clean up the room. Anything would be better than this relentless
boredom! He picked up the clothes he had
tossed on the floor, along with quite a few feathers, and straightened up the
massive bed.
Looking around the
spotless room, he found to his satisfaction that he actually felt good after
working. After everything was cleaned
up, he ventured into the hall again.
Walking into various rooms, he made up his mind that if he was going to
be stuck here he might as well be helpful.
Thinking about it almost made him smile.
He would surprise that little goblin of a man!
After going through almost every room in the
hallway, he decided which one he was going to work on.
It
was a small room with two windows. There
was a couch, rug, bookshelves, and a closet.
He rummaged around in the closet to see if there was any Windex®
cleaner. Soon after rummaging through
the closet, he came to the conclusion that there wasn’t even a vacuum. Several things he did find were a broom, a
filthy rag, and a long sturdy stick.
Picking up the stick, he turned around and started heading back into the
main part of the room. As he was turning
the stick, he heard a solid, thwack, as it whacked something. Looking to see what the stick had hit, he
found the little man sitting on the floor rocking back and forth holding his
forehead.
“Oh!”
Bretton exclaimed. “If you are alright could I ask you a
question?” The man looked at him
through a swollen eye. Bretton took that
as a yes.
“Number
one, why do you keep on following me and why do you pop up everywhere?”
“Whoa. You said one.
That was two questions.”
Completely
ignoring him Bretton went on, “Number two, how do you clean this place?” his
voice rising with his short temper.
“The
stick is to beat the carpet. The rag is
for the windows. And the broom is to
sweep the floor.”
Bretton
looked at the “cleaning” utensils that were in his hands. Shaking his head in disbelief, he managed to
mutter a quiet “thank you” and stalked past the man.
Standing
in the middle of the room, he decided what to start cleaning first. He grabbed the little cloth and started
rubbing the window vigorously. He became
annoyed that it was not getting clean.
Suddenly urged by a thought he ran all the way to the kitchen. After wetting the rag he ran back to the tiny
room. Scrubbing hard he was able to make
a little clear spot. Smiling at his
success, he went back to the kitchen and filled a bucket with water. When he finally staggered into the room, he
nearly dropped the bucket in exhaustion.
The
day went by with hard work and a couple breaks to eat. Bretton crawled into the huge bed and heaved
a deep sigh. For one of the first times
in his life he had a good feeling. Thinking
about his family made him feel lonely.
He regretted the way he had spoken to his parents and siblings, and
thought about the ways he could help around his house. If only he could get back home, somehow. Instantly he knew that there was no place
like home. He fell asleep with a smile
on his face.
“Bretton!
Get up! It’s time to eat breakfast! Hurry and get up! Mama is making pancakes!”
Bretton
found himself in his bed, at his own house, with his own twin siblings bouncing
on him.
“Ok,
ok! I’m getting up!” Bretton happily
exclaimed. Bouncing out of his bed he
grabbed the twins before they ran out of the room. He gave them each a hug and dared that he
could get his clothes on faster than them. Squealing, they ran out of the
room. Happy to be home he threw on his
clothes and ran out his door. He
stumbled as he found both of the twins sitting outside his door waiting for
him. Grinning he made his way down the
stairs, with the twins on his heels.
As
he was eating his pancakes, he thought back to the place where he had been and
immediately was grateful to be eating and living in his own home. Bretton knew where he belonged -- and
couldn’t wait to show it.
