This is my first time writing an original story so I hope you guys like it!
-Clairy
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Ellie Anderson noticed it was starting to get dark as she looked up from her sketchbook. She seemed to always go into a trance whenever she was working on her art. It had been like that since she was a small girl, focusing on drawing her pictures at their old worn kitchen table. It was the perfect way to check out of the real world and instead create something amazing. Ellie pushed a few wisping strands of her black hair out of her face. No matter how tight she made her braid it always managed to escape and get on her nerves. She started to pack up her sketching supplies, she wanted to make sure to get home before her mom Jody got home from work, she was supposed to make alfredo noodles with chicken for dinner tonight and she knew her mother would be too tired from working at the bank to make anything for them herself. Her father rarely came home after work, instead opting to go to the old bar several blocks away, he would usually drag himself in around last call. Ellie did everything that she could to try and be as scarce as possible when her father was around. He wasn’t just a drunk, he was mean, abrasive, and controlling. He hadn’t always been like that though he used to be a loving father, who went out of his way to do things for his family.
Ellie shivered as she started the short walk to her house. Her favorite place in the whole world to draw was at the cemetery a few blocks away from were they lived. It was peaceful to her and quiet and although others would get a sense of unease in the cold silence the tombstones provided, they comforted Ellie in a way she couldn’t explain. She did not understand why other kids in her town said it was creepy of her to be there. They often called her the Living Dead Girl, even going as far as to say that she should just marry a dead guy.
As she rounded the corner to her house she sighed. The Anderson’s were not a wealthy family. They lived in a small house on the very edge of town. The house had once been a quaint little two-bedroom cottage. They had inherited it from some relative a long time ago and since her father wasn’t much of a handyman it had since fallen into disrepair. As she made her way to the small brown house with its large front windows that Ellie always thought made the house look like it had eyes, always watching the outside world. She took in the small front yard with its one sparse tree. Her father had tried to build a treehouse in it when she was younger, but he had never gotten around to finishing it. The shell of what could have been rotting away in its branches. As Ellie grew closer to the house, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of remorse for what her life could have been.
As she reached the front door of her house, Ellie grabbed the mail from the mailbox next to it. Inside were three envelopes, bills it looked like. She could tell that at least two were from the words FINAL NOTICE stamped across them in red bold letters. Being behind on their bills was nothing new to the Andersons, they had gone whole weeks before with no water, and there was that one time they went three months without electricity. It was during that time that Ellie discovered a love for making wax melt statues. She always tried to make the best out of the bad situations they ended up in.
Ellie dropped her sketchbook and pencil off in her room before she moved into their small kitchen. It was, in Ellie’s opinion, a very nice albeit small room. The fridge was humming quietly as she opened it and started to get out what she needed to make dinner. Glancing at the clock on her wall told her that her mother would be home in about an hour. So, she took her time cutting the chicken into small chunks. Making dinner was one of the chores Ellie had that she enjoyed, it gave her free reign to decide what they had for dinner most nights.
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Forty-five minutes later Ellie had dinner finishing up and simmering on the stove while she mixed a salad. As she was getting the dishes out of the cabinet her mother came through their front door. Her mother was described around their small town as a great beauty, with long shimmering black hair and striking blue eyes, she was petite and had the body of a ballet dancer. Ellie felt lucky that she had inherited most of her looks from her mom. The only thing she had gotten from her dad’s side of the family were her emerald-green eyes.
“It smells amazing in here!” Jody exclaimed as she dropped her purse by the door and started to unwind her long black hair from a tight bun on top of her head. “I love when you make alfredo.” Ellie smiled at her mother, age had been kind to her, you could hardly see the lines that were starting to form on her forehead and eyes as she smiled.
“It’s almost ready Momma”, Ellie replied, “I just need to set the table”. She started moving the plates and food to the table, while her mother got them sodas out of the fridge. They only had a soda with dinner and no other time of the day. This was what her mother called moderation. Moderation, she said was the key to eating whatever you wanted but not gaining any weight. Her mother was big on making sure that Ellie stayed healthy and thin. It seemed to be extremely important to her that her daughter be what society deemed beautiful. Ellie had the suspicion that if suddenly the beauty norm was to wear spikes in your hair and be heavy, then well, her mother would be doing everything she could to fit into that standard too.
As they ate, Jody talked about her day. She oversaw lockboxes for her bank, so she always had an interesting story about what kinds of things the customers deemed to be irreplaceable or priceless. She even knew one customer who would withdraw all her money in cash and then put it in the lockbox. Jody had guessed the customer had somewhere around 2 million dollars in her lockbox. Ellie couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that much money. Her mother had gotten a raise, but her father only got paid when his jobs were finished so it was like they lived on a one-person salary.
After dinner Ellie did her schoolwork at the table. Usually, she was able to get her work done in about an hour but tonight she was studying for her finals. It was almost the end of the school year and Ellie wanted to make sure she passed. The final grades made at the end of freshman year determined what classes you could take next year, and Ellie really wanted to take sculpting.
As midnight approached, Ellie decided to pack away her books and get some rest. She knew that her dad would be home soon and when he came through the door it was better to be out of sight. If she was in her room with the door closed, he wouldn’t bother her, but if she was still out in the living room or kitchen, he might very well decide she needed to learn some lessons that only he had the wisdom to impart. Like one time for instance, she had worn her hair in braided pigtails and her father saw them after a night of drinking. This was when he told her that only fat little girls and whores wore their hair in pigtails and since she wasn’t fat then she must be a whore. She hadn’t worn her hair that way since. It was better to just make sure he didn’t see her at all.
She moved into her room. She loved her room. It had taken her years to get it just right. She was lucky because she had a window that did not face the street. She had a theory that if you slept in the bedroom closest to the street then you were the first to get hurt in an emergency. She also got nervous thinking that people would be able to see into her room as they drove by. As Ellie slid into her bed she heard the door to their little cottage slam as her father arrived home. She covered her ears with her pillow as a few minutes later she heard her mother and father fighting. It was like they had forgotten that she would turn 16 tomorrow. Ellie turned to her side and watched as the clock on her nightstand ticked away her last remaining minutes of being 15. As she listened to the shouts of her parents and the tick, tick, tick of the clock she wished her life could be different. Her clock reached midnight as sleep overtook her and she missed the wind whisper “Wish granted Little One.”