Creative Writing Collection

Count to Ten

The old brick wall had a metal arrow in it and a weathered door; it seemed like a place that a classy, down to earth person would live in. But it was empty, so probably not. We would hang out here in the past and chat, all five of us; sitting on the steps, or leaning against the wall, sharing snacks from time to time. Our little hideout from the things we ran to hide from. The address to this place was known to rundown neighboring communities as Zero Street, Abandonment Lane, and even Dead Man Drive — there were no other buildings than the small abandoned apartment.

       Small flower boxes hung over higher windows, containing child painted eggs. Others had intricate and beautiful designs of skilled artists. When we were able to break into the apartments weeks later, we would look through the things people had left behind, wonder what caused their disappearance, then make up stories of how they lived depending on their possessions. Once, there was a set of eggs with butterflies painted on them in a neat and organized array — we all kept one from the dozen. Another set we found were simple Easter designs of flowers and bright colors. We kept some of those, too. They were old, and rotten, and they smelled, but it stirred a bit of hope in us that things would get better.

       The apartment complex was a 3x3, meaning that there were three stories with three rooms each, a total of nine rooms. Since no one ever came, we began to live there, all five of us. We each got our own room, our own house, and the remaining four were left clean and tidy for whenever someone decided to join us. We are homeless, but we are also strong. Michael was the oldest at 22, then there’s me (I’m 19), the twins at 16, and Jamie, who is 14.

       We had run away from home; we all used to live in the same neighborhood and grew up with one other. Our parents and neighbors had issues: drinking, smoking, use of illegal substances, theft, frequent incarcerations, and family abuse — even after three years of joining us, I still have to help Jamie fall asleep. And so we left, because we knew there was nothing for us there. Police cars patrolled the community on a daily, well scheduled basis. When I was little, my night light was their flashing red and blue lights.

       The twins, Arron and Nicolas, dropped out of Polco High School their junior year to begin working, joining the effort Michael and I have struggled to maintain for the past five years. We only acquire the basic necessities: food, water, clothing, and hygiene. Jamie goes to school while we work. She was allowed to attend through an organization that helps homeless kids attend classes. We do not, and will never, steal what we need. We don’t want to fail and end up like our parents, or our neighbors, or like anyone else in the community.

       The five of us will find a way to survive. Somehow.