Equal to You

Enjoy :)

Okay so this was my grade seven writing assignment that had to be themed in the 50s and 60s (yes we had to read the Outsiders and stuff lol), but I only got a 80 on this story. I've always wanted to share this story, but I didn't want to type it out obv, but I was recently going through my google docs and I was like holy hell wait I have it?? I'm still kind of proud of it, and it was based on a mentally abusive relationship :) Please note I copied this right from Google Docs.

The smell of the dingy old attic made Darren feel slightly uneasy and claustrophobic. He'd never liked this small attic, and he had hoped he wouldn't have had to come back up here for a long time. The last time he had been up here was at his father's request, to stack all of the boxes that swarmed around him as he walked now. It was his job now to take them all down.  He ran his hands over the old junk-filled boxes of his now deceased father's attic. He worked his way to the back of the room, his dark brown hair tickled his neck slightly as he walked.  His pine green eyes scanned the room, searching for a specific box in particular, a box that wouldn't just be taken down and sold.  His eyes finally laid eyes on it. "Perfect," he said. "Just as I remember it."

There, hidden in the shadows laid an old cardboard box labeled Memories. He was hoping to display some childhood photo of his father at his funeral, and whatever other things he could find that perhaps had some sentimental value that his mother could cling to. He pried open the sealed box, freeing it from the sticky confines of the tape that was wrapped all over it.  Darren almost felt a little proud about ripping off the tape, he was a fairly weak person, so it was some accomplishment.

  "Look at all these photo albums," Darren chuckled slightly to himself, peering into the box.

He couldn't have imagined that his father would have ever made an album, he had rarely ever sat down when Darren was a kid. He was always on the move. Perhaps his mother made them, but wherever she got all the photos that filled the photo albums was beyond him.  Beside the three old photo albums that looked older than history by the shape they were in, layed a few scattered trinkets he assumed were his father's childhood toys. Something else caught his eye. He reached in and gently pulled out an old leather notebook, the cover barely hanging on by a few threads.

"Property of J.S Williams, eh?"

Darren knew those were the initials of his deceased father, Jonathan Sullivan Williams. Out of curiosity, Darren flipped through a few dusty pages before beginning to read what appeared to be his father's life story.  It read like a movie was playing.

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Friday, June 30th

"Hey Johnny you heading out to the big bash tonight at the diner?"
Jonathan scowled slightly, he didn't enjoy being called Johnny, something about that name bugged him slightly. He kicked a pebble that laid on the side of the pave road as he walked towards his neighbourhood, the summer breeze blowing against him.

"I'm afraid I got no choice, Bridgette's going, so I've got to go, how about you?" Jonathan replied, glancing back to his friend, Tony.

Tony's hazel brown hair blew in the breeze, blowing around a face that any girl would swoon for. But yet he'd never kissed a girl in his life, he never got that close to a girl, despite having more girlfriends than strands of hair on his head. He played them. His dark brown eyes caught mine, they were impossible to read, like usual. He wasn't the type of guy who just poured out all his emotions in a movement. Jonathan admired that more than he would say.

      "Naw, I got caught smoking in the house, ain't allowed out." Tony laughed, catching up to Johnathan, falling in next to him as they crossed the street, leaving the secluded road with only trees and a gas station behind and entering Jonathan's neighbourhood.