Hi here’s a story! Don’t judge me on the year it’s not my choice I wrote it for a school project. Anyway bye! Ava O’Farrell, 15, Ireland, 1969 January 17th 1969 Whilst the afternoon sun started to dip, I was nestled in my couch, a pile of blankets wrapped around me to keep out the biting January chills. I sketched out an outline of Mr. O'Shiel - one of my neighbours - in my notebook. I sighed, wishing I was brave enough to share my art with other people. Suddenly, Kara burst into the room closely followed by Hollie: Just great, my two annoying sisters. I quickly slammed my notebook shut before they could see what I was doing. “Wha- Oh no. You guys!” I groaned with annoyance, “Not again. You know Lorcan hates when you play with his fur!” “But Ava, doesn't he look so pretty?” Hollie exclaimed, gesturing to our cat Lorcan who was covered in an assortment of bows and ribbons. “I guess, but you guys are both eight, you need to take on some more responsibility, also don't use Mam’s good ribbons and bows to dress him up! It ruins them!” “O-okay Ava” Kara trembled. I called her back and comforted her, knowing how small and sensitive she was while Hollie rolled her eyes. At that moment there were three sharp knocks, -our signal. Kara and Hollie raced to the door with excitement, unlocking it. In entered our father, holding the daily newspaper. “Hey girls. How are you?” he asked them, seeming tired. He turned to me, “Hey Ava.” “Hi dad, what's in it today? Any more news from the troubles?” I questioned, nodding to the paper in his hands. The troubles were getting worse every day from all of the explosives from the angry and protesting catholics. “There were eight deaths today.” he told me, looking forlorn. “That’s okay dad! - I mean it's bad that people still died but, it’s less than yesterday, right? Anyway I was thinking of writing a letter to Maimeo to say thanks for my new pencils!” I babbled, unbeknownst to the shattering news about to come. “Ava-” I knew it before he said it. “-Maimeos go…” he gulped and tears came rushing down my face. “No-no!” I collapsed in a bawling heap at the door, my knees thudded painfully on the cold wooden floor, but I didn’t care. All I was thinking of was my grandmother. My Maimeo was the only person I had ever trusted with my skills of art. She got me and I got her. Now, even in a family of five I had no one. Nobody to talk and share with the way I did with her. Kara had made her way down to my lap. Silent as ever but face wet with tears, clutching my long, braided hair to reassure herself that time hadn’t frozen. Hollie, however, froze with the blankest of all stares, deep in shock. She didn’t even move when Mam called us for dinner, she stayed there, stiff and emotionless. At around 10:30 I went to bed early. I couldn’t bear to sit in the harsh silence downstairs with my parents. As I walked past Kara and Hollies bedroom I heard a single, distinctive voice. “Hey-Mai-meo” Hollie whispered in the voice she used when writing, her voice hoarse and cracked, “I-I need you here, things have g-gone b-b-ba-d-d,” she whispered her voice cracking and going silent, her body shaking in grief. I couldn’t believe it. Hollie never cried, instead threw hissy fits to get what she wanted. I decided to go downstairs to tell Mam and Dad about Hollie, but halfway down I heard them talking quietly. I stopped and listened carefully. “Nessa, please, we can’t live here, in this abomination for much longer! My mum has died from The Troubles and who knows who’ll be next. We can’t risk the kids or our lives.” That was my father, but what was he talking about? “I know Pedro, but what about the life we’ve made here? What about the kids? And where would we go anyway?” “I don’t know, maybe Australia? It's a while away but it's safer than here!” I gasped, before covering my mouth so they wouldn’t know I was eavesdropping, but it was too late. “Oh no. I’ll go get whichever one of them it is.” I heard my father say, making me jump to my feet and scramble up the stairs and into my room, hoping he didn’t see me. I didn’t want them to know what I had heard. I didn’t even want to know.
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