Anna

Anna and Nikki. Great characters. This is for a contest. "Pick a Picture 2" I'm all for the symbolism so I decided to have a character feel trapped. The photo for this story is the one I picked.

She was my sister, my friend, my life, and everthing in the world to me. Anna had that quality about her, that you can't help but just.. be in awe of her. Sweetest perfection. The look of an angel with an attitude to match. My idol in every possible way. She was my biggest fear. My family was in a war. Split down the middle. She loved us all. Every single person she loved and cared about.

 

 

When we first figured out about our family fued it was tramatizing. She only a year older then I, had to deal with the responsibilities of two families. One with my Mother. Another with my Father. My Mother got owner ship of the house, the cars, the animals. Everything. Except for my other siblings and me. Anna chose to be with my mother so she could have middle ground.

 

 

Every weekend I would go and help my sister. A couple months after the divorce, I was mucking the stalls when I heard yelling from the house. I dropped the pitch fork and ran as fast as I could to the house. I slammed open the door and what I saw dropped me to my knees. My sister was on the floor. Weeping. I ran up to her and started crying with her. I remember whispering 'what happened. Who did this? What happened.'

 

 

My sister was covered in scratches. Bites on her upper shoulder. Near her neck. I was too young then to realize what had happened, but she was raped by my mother's boyfriend while she stood by and watched.

 

 

My sister just told me that something bad happened and I had to call Daddy. I did as I was told and ran to the phone. Called my father and got him to pick us up.

 

 

We found out later that night she had internal bleeding. and while sleeping, died. I had to go and wake her up in the morning. I found her laying on her stomache curled up in a ball. So I skipped over to her whistling a song she had just taught me.

 

 

I gasped when I got near enough to smell her, but worse then the smell was how she looked. Pale, almost blue and no life to her expression. I checked her pulse and found that there was nothing. Not even a lingering beat. I shut my eyes tight and willed not to cry. In the next few seconds I had thrown myself on top of Anna and was sobbing heavily. Screaming for my father. For my siblings. Anyone. Everyone. They had to save my sister. She couldn't leave us.

 

 

We called the police, or well my father did. They prounounced her dead at 6:11:25 on November 9th 1994. She was 16.

 

For a time they thought my father had raped her. But they noticed that the time couldn't be right. They looked at my mother and her boyfriend and found that was the only way possible for it to make sense. By my mother lied and told them she had snuck out the night before and had probably done what she does best. She called my sister a lot of ugly, disgusting terms and names. All adding up to she just got a little too... excited during one of her nights out.

 

 

My mother and her Bo got off without another worry. And they accepted that as how she died. I knew better. I had seen the terror in my sister's eyes. She had not done anything willingly, but when I tried to make things right, my mother hit me so hard I saw stars as I plummeted to the floor below. I looked up and saw a scowl on my mother's face. Screaming at me to quit lying. I never got a chance to change that. I stayed with that out of fear. I came to the conclusion that she would go without justice.

 

Author's Note

I might have misspelled some things. Again this is for a contest but I would still like to hear what you think.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You wrote a powerful story. Thank you lord for testing. This story should never be allowed to happen. I know it is fiction. But this act happen too often . Description and story was very good.
Coyote

[Lunar Lightning]

Ok, I know the point you were trying to give and stuff, but you should expand on the story. Give imagery, not just empty thoughts ok? Sixty percent of all good writing is painting a picture in the reader's head and making them feel what the narrator is feeling.

Luna

[PhantomDancer]

That is a very strong story. Very current themes, and your use of short lines keep the tension up. You write convincingly, and I enjoyed your story a lot. Good work.