Chapter One
Today is August 28, 1939. I open my eyes as golden sunlight seeps in through the cracks in my boarded up window. I look across the room at my Journal. My Journal is the most important thing in the world to me...other than my family of course. I write everything in there, I write my secrets, I sometimes even write stories in it, and every once in a while if it's important I'll write about my day. It's kind of like just writing a letter to...well...My Journal or future me. I rustle in my sheets, and climb out of bed. I stumble towards the kitchen while I rub my eyes. The smell of fresh baked bread and sizzling bacon filling my nostrils stops me in my tracks while I close my eyes and just indulge the smell. I have no doors in my house except the front door (that's all we could afford.) So there's nothing to stop the smell from flooding into my room. I didn't quite make it to the kitchen but I opened my eyes just as I saw my mom gesturing me into the kitchen and to sit at the ruff worn out mahogany table.
I walk into the kitchen while asking, "Where did you get all this food. This is like a feast!"
"Well dear," my mother started, "when your dad saves a rich man's life you manage to pull something off." Just as she said that Josie and Tommy walked into the kitchen rubbing there eyes.
"Woah baby how rich is the man?!" Josie said.
"Yeah!" said Tommy agreeing with her.
My dad chuckled, and my mom smiled. I just don't get it. I thought to myself, my dad always laughs at every thing Josie says. Even though nothing she says is funny. I wouldn't worry about my mom though because she always smiles.
But, before go any farther let me tell you about my family.
Dad (Jonathan)-54
Mom (Sarah) -49
Me (Bradley) -14
Tommy -8
And last but definitely not the least (By that I mean best),
Josie (The Cutest or the Princess) -6
Just as I sat down to eat there was a knock at the door.
YOU ARE READING
The Walk Home
Teen FictionA boy named Bradley lives an okay life so far, until he is forced to go to war. He struggles to survive. He doesn't know if he can take seeing death anymore. He wonders what he should tell his mom when he gets home. What will his mom do? Or say?
