hey! I've been reading lots of magical realism stories lately, so I just had to make a story with it XD it's more of just symbolism, but I still love how it turned out! story is just below for your convenience :D wow, I really wrote a lot... fun fact: the bullies and the girl with the yellow t-shirt are symbolism, the bullies her negative emotions (anger, hatred, etc.) while the girl at the pool is hope. everyone else is actual people though :D
I slip on my backpack and make sure for the millionth time that my brother was asleep. I glance at his face, which is smeared with wet tears and snot, and he's murmuring words under his breath too quietly for me to hear. Probably dreaming about what happened that day yet again. He's still sleeping peacefully, luckily. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I quietly open the door, checking if Dad's car was in the driveway. It wasn't, he was still in his early shift anyways. I had to walk to school again. When I set a foot off the driveway, I heard a voice. "Looking for somebody?" I whirl around to see that mean boy. The one who had ate everything that had happened that day up like candy. I turn and run, but no matter what he's still at my heels. He grabs my shoulders and spins me around. His smile is nasty. "Don't think that she's just between us two. Aren't you glad she's gone?" I struggle to pull away. "Why would I be?" He smirks, tightening his grip. "Just remember we'll always be there. And more are coming," he says, gesturing to even more intimidating bullies coming around him. I recognize each and every one of them. The girl with orange hair in a ponytail that had always talked to me about ignoring my brother. The tall boy with a permanent sneer on his face who yelled at me to hate each and every thing in my life. That short person---I'm not sure if they're a girl or boy-----with the beanie that kicks me and teases me because of my clothes. And every one of them brings back horrible memories. I use all of my strength to pull away and bolt to school as fast as I can, my black hair flying in the wind. ------------------------------------------------------------------- I miss that girl. The one with the yellow t-shirt and shorts that I'd met during the summer at the pool, when my mother and I had finally interacted without having a screaming showdown. I didn't even get her name, but we still hung out silently, as if we knew each other for years. I'd turned for a second and saw the boy, the cause of my pain, and when I turned back in panic the girl had disappeared. I still don't know why. ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Isn't he adorable?" my mom said, smiling. My little brother had just turned 3 then. I was 7. All I had wanted was to have some breakfast, before I knew how. "Mom, can you---" I start to say. "If you're asking about breakfast, ask your father to make it." she says sharply. I start to point out she was making breakfast at that moment for her and the toddler, but I decide it wasn't the best idea. We both also knew for a fact that dad wasn't going to make breakfast for any of us, including himself. I wait for her to finish using the stove and take a piece of toast to try and make the same french toast she was making (which did not turn out well). I sigh and glance to my right, only to see my spoiled brother throw a tantrum as my mother tried to comfort him. I clench my teeth and bottled it in, like I was taught to since I was born. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Then came the day the bottle overflowed. I was 10, I was screaming my heart out. I can still remember the pained look on her face as she realized what she'd done, and the tears streaming down her face. And she said it. "I love you, you know." And she turned and ran. ---------------------------------------------------------- From that moment on, she seemed to sad to do anything, even care for her prized child. Everytime I tried to open my mouth, me and my mom both ended up screaming our heads off. Then she got sick. In the hospital, as she took in her last breaths, she stroked my hair and smiled weakly. "Take care of him." She closed her eyes and never opened them again. --------------------------------------------------------------- Now, the bullies use that against me. Every day, none of my teachers notice the faraway look in my eye. They don't see the tears that spill when they turn their backs. Then she came. The girl, with the same faraway look in her eyes and the red, puffy eyelids. We first talked when she caught me crying during lunch. We shared our pain, making us stronger. We let our boundaries go a little farther. We made new friends. We have dreams. We still remember the people we've lost, but we don't let it stop us. Then, one day, as I was doing my homework for school, my dad came towards me. He opened his arms, beckoning me to come closer. Like he did before his work got the best of him. I run forward and bury my face in his chest, crying out what was still there in me. I think I heard him say sorry, but I was so happy I had my real dad back that I didn't care. ------------------------------------------------------------------- The girl with the yellow t-shirt had come back. We chat a lot. I can't see her anymore, or any of the bullies, we've all merged and became one. I know it's for the best, though.
