The tears come

Chatterbox: Inkwell

The tears come

The tears come down my face faster than I can stop them. My mouth tastes salty, and I feel it open. I try to wipe them away, but at the rate that they are coming that's useless. It just smears more water on my face and makes it wetter. 

You don't cry, I say to myself uselessly, you do not cry. I'm supposed to be the strong one. I'm supposed to help eveyone else keep their cool. So why couldn't I keep the hurt in? Three years, it hadn't bothered me. And now, when it mattered the most, I couldn't do it.

 

 

So, what do you think? Should I continue writing this? 

submitted by S.E.
(November 27, 2014 - 7:22 pm)

back to the Inkwell

YES!!!!!!!!!!

submitted by Winter Firefly
(November 27, 2014 - 9:02 pm)

Thanks!

submitted by S.E.
(November 28, 2014 - 7:33 am)

Yes, definitely!!! It's awesome!

submitted by The Chocabookaholic , age 12
(November 28, 2014 - 9:46 am)

Yes, definitely!!! It's awesome!

submitted by The Chocabookaholic , age 12
(November 28, 2014 - 11:04 am)

Wow, that's awesome, S.E.! Don't keep us waiting for too long!

submitted by Madeline
(November 28, 2014 - 10:54 am)

Of course!!!! It's GREAT!!!!!!!!!! Better than anything I could write :)

submitted by Katie M
(November 28, 2014 - 3:19 pm)

My sister, Kathy, tugs on my shirt, her huge brown eyes wet with tears.

"It's not alright, is it? It's never been alright," she says, her tears coming slowly. I laugh through my tears. It's the smartest and most empathetic thing I person has ever said to me. For an eight year old, she has a maturity far beyong her years.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I shouldn't cry. The others-" She shakes her head. 

"No. Go on ahead. Cry," Kathy says. When she says that, I stop. I wipe at my face with the rough burlap skirt I'm wearing and realize what I've been smelling for the last ten minutes.

I rush to the oven and pull it open. Smoke drifts out in a large clump and spirals toward the ceiling. In the midst of my coughing fit, I see the black loaf that was supposed to be bread crumbling and hard.

I sink down to the floor. "I can't do anyhting right." The tears come again, this time soft and private. Kathy snuggles up and gives me a bear hug.

"Haily, It's just bread," she whispers. She's right. It is just a loaf of bread. It isn't like the world will end. It couldn't because it already has. 

submitted by S.E.
(November 28, 2014 - 8:43 pm)

More! More! I would totally buy this book! :)

submitted by Madeline
(November 30, 2014 - 12:46 pm)

Cool! You're a good writer!

submitted by SAVVY44x
(November 30, 2014 - 4:15 pm)

@ Madeline & SAVVY44x

Thank you so much! 

submitted by S.E.
(November 30, 2014 - 4:37 pm)

Just then, Nathanial walks in the door. He has tears running down his face, but he gasps when he sees me.

"You're crying?" he asks, dumbfounded. Then I walk over to him and put my arms out. He runs into them fast, faster than I expected. I fall flat on the ground with him on top of me. Instead of the laugh this normally would have brought, it only made me feel worse. 

"She can cry," Kathy says, rising to my defense. I start to tell her I'm alright, but she hushes me none the less. 

"But isn't it alright? If you can't take care of us, who will?" Nathanial aasks himself frantically. I give him another hug.

"Nathanial," I whisper, "I'm going to take care of you. The same as I did with Papa. Just without him, alright?" He gives a slow, silent nod and the crying stops. I take him by the hand to the ladder that leads to the loft. He climbs up carefully. Kathy and I follow.

The twins are asleep. I hesitate to wke them up, but they needed to know what had happened now. 

submitted by S.E.
(November 30, 2014 - 4:46 pm)
submitted by Madeline, age 13y, 356d
(November 30, 2014 - 7:55 pm)

S.E., did you write any more of this? It is really good!

submitted by Rose bud
(June 2, 2015 - 11:29 am)