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Lonely road

En tekst om en ulykkelig familie.
Sjanger:NovelleLastet opp:14.01.2006
Verktøy:Utskrift   Del på Facebook

A cold breeze caressed the outside of the window into the little girls room, if you could call this a girls room, at all. There where no decoration on the walls, and the walls themselves were rather colourless and sad. There where almost no sign of life in the dark bed room. But if you stood completely still, you could hear the hulking of a little girl alongside leafs dancing with the breeze outside the window, and the clock ticking: tick, tack, tick, tack.


In the darkest corner of the room, on a little bed, a poor little soul, trying to cover her naked and wounded body with a small blanket, laid with her face buried in her pillow which obviously kept some of the hulking down.


She raised her head and let her eyes sweep around the bedroom. She hated the room. With a naked hand she wept away her tears, thinking back on what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time, but the thought, nevertheless, made her sick. The father she had loved so very much as a little girl. How could he turn out to be such a monster? How could he do this?


Carol was tired and weak. She laid her head back down on the pillow. She wished her mother would have been there by her side. But she knew her mother would never be there for her like before. She was never coming back.


After a while the time stopped, it felt like. She didn’t move a muscle, and she didn’t even breathe for a short moment. She heard something downstairs. What was it? Was it anything at all? Was he mind only playing tricks on her?


No! She did most definitely hear something, didn’t she? The poor girl became surer every second someone was walking downstairs, and the thought of her father coming back almost made her panic.

What did he want now? Did he think he could treat her like this? His own daughter…? She tried desperately to hide under the blanket, but she was worn out after the struggle with him earlier this day.


The footsteps came closer and closer. Up the stairs. One step after the other. Until they finally stopped. She looked at the tall, wooden, closed door with fair in her dark blue eyes. She closed her eyes hoping to wake up any time soon. Being relieved all of it had just been a bad dream. But her bruises and all the pain convinced her it couldn’t have been any nightmare. Once again, her own father had used her as his little toy.


The door handle moved. He was coming. She prepared for another struggle. But through the door her older brother came in, shocked to find his little baby sister in this condition, and he knew right away there were something wrong.

“Where is dad?” he asked concerned.

He could see right into Carols dark blue eyes, glistening with tears. Words that couldn’t be said streamed down her face, and he knew. He knew the whole story.


Carols brother sat beside her bed, listening to everything she wanted to get off her chest. She was nearly done, when they both suddenly heard a slam from a door downstairs. The poor girl could tell by the look in her brothers’ eyes, he would do something he would regret a lot on, very soon. And without a word he stood up, turned against the door he had entered earlier and went out again, leaving Carol behind, all alone.

Martin was all she had. The only person that kept her alive. But now she knew something dramatic would happen to him.


Martin was angry. He was boiling with anger. And while going down the stairs he clenched his fists. They longed after a weapon.


When he entered the kitchen he took a sharp knife without even thinking. The icy breeze from outside ran through the open main door, and messed up his beautiful dark brown hair. He stopped up. Looked at the knife he held between his hands. Then he looked up and stared into the darkness in his fathers’ bed room.


Martin wasn’t himself. He couldn’t even remember what exactly happened after he had done it. While he was sitting on the floor, with his head in his hands, he looking over at the bloody knife he had dropped a few inches away from were he sat. The blood from his own father. What had he just done? He knew he would have to take the consequences that followed. A tear fell down his cheek as he sat quietly on the floor, listening to the police alarm coming closer and closer for every second. He had at least saved his sister… He thought. Or had he?


Now Carol has to walk this lonely road. A lonely road she doesn’t even know were will take her. But she walks down this lonely road. And she walks down, all alone...

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04.05.2009 20:06

Dette var utrolig bra!! Du har et veldig godt orforråd, og lager gode setninger. hvor gaammel er du? går du i tiende? dette var bare helt utrolig bra!

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