Back in Washington D.C.

Back in Washington D.C.

A Story by CompellingComposer

This is not a fictional story. This is an actually event that happened to me. Everything in this story is REAL.

    They were at it again, and she was sick of it.

    The yelling was muffled through the door, but she knew they weren’t having a pleasant conversation. The anger and screaming? Maybe they were arguing about football teams? Yeah, that was it. Football. Sports. Her mom did like ECU and her dad NC State, so that could be it. Right?

    A crash.

    Wrong. They didn’t care about sports. They never did. She sighed and covered her ears with her pillow. It didn’t help. She needed sleep. Tomorrow was a school day. What was it going to be, Friday? Yes, Friday, the best day of the week. There was no way they could be mad and fight on a Friday. They just couldn’t, she knew it. She smiled at the thought. A day with no rage. It would be a fairytale dream come true.

    The noise was getting louder.

    Her heart was pounding. She grabbed her stuffed animal closer to her, hugging him even more tightly. She buried her face into him, hardly able to breath. She loosened her grip. She figured she was choking him.

    “ Sorry,” she whispered in her mind. She knew he had heard her.

    She decided to distract her thoughts. To think about something else. Her stuffed animal? Yes, that would work. She looked at it. It was a black-and-white panda. She remember the day she got him. It had been a church trip to Washington D.C. She remembered the taxi rides. The slinging side to side in the seats because the drivers drove wild. She had enjoyed that. She had also gotten to go to a museum that had science and history. She couldn’t remember the name. She had gotten her panda at the animal exhibit. A gift shop with an animal theme. What she had named him, she couldn’t remember. Fluffy? No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t care, it didn’t matter to her.

    Oh, no. What was going on? It didn’t sound good.

    She shook off her worried and remembered the Holocaust museum. She wasn’t disgusted or horrified like other people had been. She had been intrigued. It had happened, that had been real. None of it was a lie. She was fascinated with everything she had seen. She needed something else to think about. What was something else she had done in D.C.?

    The hot chocolate. Her mouth watered. It had been chilly that day and they had all gone to get hot chocolate. She remembered the warm liquid running down her throat and the steam that had fogged her glasses. She also remembered the long bus ride home. Lindsey, her friend, and her had rode near the front. They ate pizza and played on their Gameboys. She smiled. She hoped to go back to Washington D.C one day.

    She closed her eyes. She snuggled close to her panda. Light filled her room and shone through her eyelids. She didn’t dare look. There was a rustling sound. Then hushed screaming. Then, the sound of dragging. She was frightened.

    “ Sh, panda, don’t let them know we’re awake. I have school tomorrow,” she muttered in her mind. She knew he understood. He always did.

    “ Wake up, don’t bring anything with you. Put on your shoes,” her mom said.

    “ What about,” she began, opening her eyes and sitting up. Her mom was gone, though. She did was she was told and grabbed her old tennis-shoes. She laced them up and heard her mom wake up her little brother. She grabbed her panda, who was sitting right beside her, and got up. She went to the kitchen. She was in her pajamas. Her mom had a suitcase and her dad was furious. He said mean things. Alarming things. Things she knew she wasn’t allowed to repeat even though her parents said them and she heard them on the television. She hopped into her mom’s red van, the passenger’s seat, and buckled up.

    “ Don’t listen to her! She’s-” he dad started, but she didn’t dare listen to the rest he had to say, but she heard it, anyway. She sobbed, her stuffed toy soaking her tears.

    “ Hey, don’t be sad,” her mom said in a soothing voice. “ You don’t have to go to school tomorrow. We’re going to Nana’s house.”

    Normally, she would have mentioned the fact that Nana lived in another state, but she didn’t. She was dreaming she was back in D.C. She was in the Holocaust museum, sipping hot chocolate, her panda in her lap. Again, she was pretending the horrors of the world weren’t real. She always imagined.

    She was getting sick of it.

© 2011 CompellingComposer

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megan but you dont have a panda?

Posted 12 Years Ago

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Added on March 2, 2011
Last Updated on March 2, 2011
Tags: washington, d.c., stuffed, animal, panda, divorce, imagining, pretending, fighting, arguing, parents, scared, angry, true, story, compelling, composer, megan, real




My name is Megan and I have been writing poems since 4th grade and stories since 6th. I'm very, very young, as I've noticed from the ages of my fellow writers on this site. Yes, I am only 13, but writ.. more..