Hey everyone! I wanted to thank you all for reading :) I was wondering if you guys like long chapters like this one or short chapters like two and three? Comment below and let me know.
And don't forget to VOTE!! c: It means a lot to me. Thanks!
Happy reading...xoxoxo -Laury :3
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It’s been a while since my city accustomed feet felt the freshness of the Caribbean Sea. My real home, where the stars above shine so clear and so bright you lose your breath just looking at them. The tropical breeze eases your soul, the freshness is unrealistic. One thing I hate about the city is the air, so rigid and full of chemicals. Of course someone who has lived there their whole life, would not notice the difference between city air, and the air that is engulfing my nose, filling my lungs. Its life, hope, and freedom. Spending the summer where I drew my first breath brings back old memories while growing up.
Running on the hot white sand towards my mother, her arms carrying me up towards the sky making me believe I could fly, warms my heart. I have good memories here. I remember the first time my mother said we were moving to America. My eyes brightened and my young, seven year old self was brimming with excitement. I was going to live in the land of the free. Not that I was a slave here but Dominican Republic is a third world country. The government isn’t honest and poverty is always booming. Living in America is not the most exciting thing in the world. It’s nice and I’m so accustomed to it, coming here makes me feel out of place. I just wish I didn’t feel that way sometimes.
A small sea turtle startles me, “What are you doing out here little fella?” I said grabbing the turtle to carry it back to the sea. The water washes the turtle away and I smiled. I hope it finds its way home, its family could be getting worried. Speaking of families I should probably get back. The sun is setting and instead of going back I sit down, digging my toes into the white sand. So warm, this couldn’t be any more serene.
“Hey! What you doing here?!” An angry voice shouts from behind and I find a tall, middle aged man standing with a rifle in his hand.
“Whoa easy buddy, I was just enjoying the beach.”
Then I think, wait he’s American I can tell by his southern accent. There aren’t many tourists around these parts. It makes me question the anger in his voice with me coming here. It’s a public beach.
“Oh, you’re American, that’s a first around here. Things get ugly here when the sun goes down.”
His words register in my mind. “Ugly?” I say questioning him. “And I’m not fully American, I was born here.”
But I never heard of this beach getting ugly or anything wrong happening here. I come here every summer. I walk towards the man and he drops down his rifle.
“Come with me.” He says and his surprised reaction when I question him about what he meant by ugly makes me nervous.
I follow him to a small shack north of the beach. Far enough if danger presents itself, he would be safe. A young boy about the age of eight comes running out of the shack yelling “daddy!” not in an alarmed way but he’s happy to see he’s back. Like when I come home and my dog attacks me. My dog, I almost forgot about him. I hope he’s doing well with my mother back in America. I know my mother doesn’t like him much.
“Daddy, who is this?” The young boy says staring at me up and down. “She’s not food.”
Yeah of course I’m not food. What’s the deal with this kid. Doesn’t he know there’s fruit in the tree growing around his beat down shack.
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