Cringy Stories

Dahlia's symphony

This was my first attempt at a sentimental story and it didn't exactly go well.

Dahlia's Symphony

By SabrinaCole5280/Sabrina Cole

I sat on the cold bed in the doctor's office. The bed was rock hard and an unfamiliar surface covered in wax paper for a reason that I did not know. My mom sat in a chair beside the bed looking down at her shoes. "Mom," I said weakly, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be alright," my mom whispered, "your whole life there has been something odd about the way you learn and today the doctor is going to walk in this door and tell me what is wrong with my child, my baby." I jumped down from my spot on the bed and wrapped my arms around my mother, "I will always be there for you, it will be alright." I said quietly. The doctor knocked on the door and I jumped back onto the bed and settled myself in the middle of the stiff cushion. The doctor sat at the small desk in the corner of the room and turned his chair so that he faced my mom, "When we first looked at Dalyah's test results we thought that she had autism, "Oh God!" my mom wailed, "But," the doctor continued, "when we analyzed it again we realized that Dalyah is dyslexic." My mom stood up, grabbed her purse and my arm and then she pulled me out of the room, "Ma'm," the doctor said, "I'm not quite done yet could you come look..." My mom didn't stop to hear anything that he had to say. She just marched down the hallway and into the parking lot. Of course that was six years ago when I found out that I have dyslexia. When I got home that night my mom was obviously not in a talking mood so I talked to my two sisters Bella and Madeline, they were twins. They were there for me when no one else was. They were there until their sixteenth birthday when they were driving on the Freeway and a semi-truck crashed into them, they both died. When they found out that I had dyslexia they comforted me and made sure that she was not picked on. When they died, my mom and my dad were the only people that were there for me. Because I was dyslexic I never read easily, all the letters and words in texts were all mixed up and they did not make sense to me. All I wanted was to be able to read, like all the other middle schoolers in Chicago, Illinois. Tomorrow I will start sixth grade at Wilma M. Middle School of Chicago. The only thing that calmed me down was music. It makes me feel that there is nothing about me that is different. Sometimes when I listen to my music I pretend that I am sitting in the middle of the stage in downtown Chicago listening to the Chicago symphony playing around me. But the truth is that the only time that I have ever been to the Chicago symphony was on my tenth birthday when Bella and Madeline had bought three tickets so we could all go together, alone. But now, since they were both dead I never went to hear the symphony, my parents thought that it was a waste of time and money so they bought me an iPod instead. I wanted to go back to that hallowed room and listen to the instruments play, I miss the feeling of sitting in a cushioned seat in the middle of my greatly missed sisters. Now all I have to remember her sisters was the ripped symphony ticket and a few wrinkled photos. When my sisters had died, my parents didn't stop their lives for a single moment to mourn or to spend time with me to make sure that I was okay. They just picked up their lives as if nothing had ever happened. The next day my alarm clock woke me up and I dug my head into my pillow. "Why do I still have to live in this crummy old apartment with two crummy old parents and a crummy old disease that makes people think that I am stupid?" I thought to myself. I wished that I was even remotely normal. I wished that I was the kind of girl that the boys in my class liked and the kind of girl who had understanding parents who showed up to drive me home when school ended. I went to bed that night as shivers went up to my spine just thinking about the school day to come.

I woke up the next morning and I physically could not get out of bed. I felt paralyzed as I pondered how I would feel as I walked through the doors of Wilma M. Middle. My mom came into my room with a smile on her face. "The first day of school, woop, woop!" She said. I hopped out of bed and stormed past her.