44 comments

Jul 23, 2020

Drama Sad Teens & Young Adult

She was fighting a war against herself from the moment the heel of her stiletto landed on the pavement. She was a fully grown woman with the curves and assets to prove it. Her manicured nails were filed to perfection. Tendrils of raven curls blended in with the black of her dress. From the outside, she appeared unaffected and stoic; the perfect and elegant woman she’d managed to grow into through her own merits. But with every unwavering step she took towards the house, she found herself resisting the urge to turn around, get into her car and drive as far away from the watchful eyes of her relatives as she possibly could.


The confidence she radiated filled the entirety of the cobblestoned driveway. She made sure to stand in the centre of the largest, most central circle and pretended not to notice the shaky eyes of her many cousins nearby. The muscles in her neck turned her head to the right, where a group of her most distant and infamous gossiping aunts had congregated due to her arrival. The corner of her mouth lifted into a sneer before she scoffed at them and passed them by. Not for the first time, she was thankful for the lesson she’d learnt many years ago: it was easiest to pretend to be unaffected when you hid your eyes behind darkened shades.

If the eyes were the window to the soul, she would never allow them to get even a glimpse of hers.


As if they were operating against her will, her eyes lifted to the large upstairs windows. The blinds were tightly drawn across them--they had been for as long as she remembered.


Why can’t we open them?

Because we don’t want the bad guys to see into our house.

But daddy, what if there’s a bad guy inside our house? What do we do then?

That won’t happen.

Promise?


The words of that night rang in her ears. She tore her eyes away from the ghostly figures constructed by an unbidden memory and spotted her mother and sister at the foot of the staircase leading to the house’s main entrance. Even through the wrinkles accumulated throughout the years between then and now, her mother’s face still managed to maintain the same unforgiving arrogance--the same unrelenting sternness--that had irked her as a child. She smirked in the hopes that her face would irritate them both enough to distract from the rapid beating of the drum in her chest.


“I must say,” she drawled, “I’m a little disappointed. Between you and dad, I hoped you’d be the first to go.”


For the briefest of moments, her mother’s eyes flashed at her insolence. She felt a thrill go through her at the sight--just as it always had during her adolescence. It was almost easy to believe that nothing had changed; that she hadn’t left all those years ago. Almost.


“And that is why you will forever be your father’s daughter,” was the hag’s reply. “Just as selfish and empty as he is.”


Her mother’s words are stoic and calmly delivered. She isn’t sure whether it’s because of her mother’s delivery, or the words that fell from her lips, but a liquid fire ignites in the void in her chest. Before that fire can travel through her veins and exact its vengeance, her sister places a gentle hand on their mother’s shoulder.


From her limited memories of her sister, she hardly drew any attention to herself. Car rides with their father saw the two of them sitting in the front while her sister played the role of a third wheel. Playing in the garden always led to her sister being injured and taking the fall for injuries that she’d unintentionally created. But it was clear to anyone with eyes that the little girl from memory has become a beautiful teenager. Her soft heart is reflected in the angelic features that contrast her sister’s sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. The only thing identifying them as twins is the shared length, curl and colour of their hair.


“You know that isn’t true,” her sister was saying. “Rosanna isn’t anything like dad. And you know that she doesn’t mean what she said about you. She’s just as upset as we are.”


She’d almost forgotten how considerate her sister was. Even when dad was thrown out of his own house, even when the police arrested him in this very driveway because of the restraining order arranged by their mother, her sister had always mediated any arguments between an insolent daughter and a seemingly unloving mother. Her sister never failed to understand her twin; to be considerate of her twin’s feelings.


But not this time. This time she was determined to prove her sister wrong. It was time to exact her revenge on the events of the past.


“Your strategy of persuasion is amusing,” she said. “It almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do. But your little strategy failed the second I saw the faces of the people I hate on my driveway.”

Then she turned to the crowd of spectators and cupped her hands around her mouth. “You all have three minutes to leave, or else I’m calling the police to arrest you for trespassing on my private property!”


There was an explosion of indignant cries, but she could care less. She turned away from them and flashed her dumbfounded mother and twin sister a sickly sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes.


“It seems mother is right. I am my father’s daughter after all.”


She then proceeded to shove past her mother on the way to the door. “You have until tomorrow to move out. If you stay any longer, I’ll tear his house down brick by brick.”


As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, she twisted the lock and collapsed her weight against it. With her back pressed against the door, she shut her eyes and took a moment to let the hardened layers melt away from her exterior and onto the cold tiles at her feet. As soon as her eyes fluttered open, she saw the faded image of a girl she thought she’d forgotten: a girl with frizzy, shoulder length curls and a broad smile plastered across her lips. The top of the girl’s head barely reached Rosanna’s waistline. The girl twirled in the front passageway, her white nightgown billowing at her feet as a song played from her lips.


He’s gonna watch me grow. He’s gonna watch me shine. He’s gonna paint a sign so that I always know as long as one and one is two, there will never be a daddy who loves his daughter more than my daddy loves me.


As if sensing she was being watched, the little girl halted her song. Her eyes slowly rose to Rosanna’s and lingered there. Rosanna saw the memories of her past--and the memories of the little girl’s future that had yet to come--in those eyes. She felt it in every void and heartache that forged the fragments of her soul. Standing across from the youthful, more hopeful version of herself, Rosanna wished to erase the naive little girl from existence.


The little girl beckoned her deeper into the house before disappearing from view. Following the siren’s call of her inner child’s curiosity, she let her feet guide her down passages that were vividly familiar after all these years. She was a grown woman with the height and scars of a lifetime of experience to prove it, so why was she feeling smaller and smaller the closer she got to the room at the end of the hall?


The hallway was darker than the rest of the passages in the seemingly timeless house. With no windows and all the doors sealed at their frames, the light from the outside world didn’t reach this part of the house. But she could clearly see the stickers she’d stuck onto the door in her adolescence. If the outside was still the same, did that mean the inside remained unchanged too?


She reached a shaky hand and grasped the icy metal. A single twist was all it took for the door to creak open. She stood in the doorway, too afraid to venture further but knowing that this needs to be done in order to move on--and knowing that this was the last chance she’d get to do so.


Maroon curtains. A checkered pale pink and white bedspread. Golden butterflies stuck to the far wall. A cherry blossom tree covering the opposite wall. Posters of bands she’d grown to hate in her adulthood. The small bookshelf with every one of her old books in the same positions she’d left them. A desk she’d somehow managed to squeeze into the small bedroom. Drawings and paintings covering every inch of her walls.


Her mother and sister hadn’t torn anything down. They hadn’t changed a thing. They’d left it exactly the same.


And yet she could still see it for what it was before she’d moved into and redecorated it.


A bed in the middle of the room instead of to the far right of it, covered in tones of ugly green and maroon. The same maroon curtains. The same yellow walls, except bare of any drawings. The same white cupboards, but with nothing in them. Two empty wooden drawers on each side of the bed. A spare room.


Her father’s room.


She saw the same little girl from before, but this time attentive under the covers of the duvet as her father reads a bedtime story from the Bible. The little girl is awake with her twin, covering the latter’s ears in an attempt to block out the arguing in the next room. The light overhead glows against the yellow walls as her mother breaks the news of a divorce to the girls in the dead of night; of a father who won’t be coming back for the remainder of the night. The room where the little girl would sneak lemon cream biscuits into the bedside drawers--the only gifts she’d receive from her father post-divorce until one day, there would be no more biscuits to receive at all.


This is the very same room where an adolescent who learnt the truth of her father’s abuse towards a loving wife and started to plaster the walls with drawings to mask the horrors etched into the walls. This is the room that deepened a rift between mother and daughter when despite everything she knows, the daughter is resolved to stay in the one room that ties her to the man who tore her family apart. This is the room where the last memory the house has of the remainder of the family together under its roof is of her packing a bag when the relational wounds were too deep to mend between mother and daughter.


Tears flow past the rim of her sunglasses and down her cheeks as the memories of her childhood cave in on her. There is only so much that her shades can hide. There is only so much history that she can cover up with a pretty drawing. No matter how much she tries to change or redecorate this room or herself, she can never run away from any of it. No matter how much she pretends she is a grown up, the heartbroken little girl she used to be hasn’t grown up at all.


In a war against herself, her past would win.


Every time.


She knows that now.


There’s only one way to make sure that that doesn’t happen. There’s only one way to put an end this war forever.


She scrolls through her recent calls until she finds the number she’s looking for.


“This is Rosanna Stone. I want you to reschedule the demolition of the tallest house on Lowther Street for me. I want the house to disappear by tonight.”

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44 comments

Grace M'mbone
13:36 Jul 26, 2020

I am in love with your vivid description. I am definitely taking notes from you on that. You stories are wonderful. And to think you have only three. Please keep writing and sharing this gift with the world. Amazing. I am awed.

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Jade Young
13:42 Jul 26, 2020

Thank you Grace❤ I hope that you can enjoy my future stories as much as you enjoy the three that I have now.

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Neela Sanders
15:00 Jul 24, 2020

The description in this story as well as the flow of the writing is really spectacular, I love how it shows the shaping of a woman into the person she is now. This was such an amazing story, thanks for commenting on mine as well!

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Jade Young
21:30 Jul 24, 2020

Thank you for the feedback Neela :D I'm glad you enjoyed my story, but I'm even more glad that you were able to understand Rosanna at the end of it :) I hope you can enjoy my future stories as much as this one!

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16:42 Jul 26, 2020

I loved the plot and the ending, but what hit me most was the way you described Rosanna's relationships with her family and the ties that bound them and continued to bind them. It was intricate and detailed, I loved it.

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Jade Young
16:44 Jul 26, 2020

Thank you so much❤ I'm glad the family ties between Rosanna and the members of her family stood out for you :D

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Yoomi Ari
16:07 Jul 24, 2020

AMAZING!!! Well done! From the moment you describe the little girl, everything gets eerie... great job. Such an inspiration- keep on writing like this and publish countless books!! I would read your books:D

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Jade Young
16:16 Jul 24, 2020

Thanks Twilight Bee, I'm really glad you liked it :D

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Yoomi Ari
20:25 Jul 24, 2020

You’re welcome ;D

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14:57 Jul 24, 2020

Jade, I adore the flow of the story from start to finish, taken me on a journey through Rosanna's past as well as how she became the woman she is. You are a very creative writer with tons of potential waiting to be explored. Keep writing!

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Jade Young
21:27 Jul 24, 2020

Thank you Chidalu :) I'm really glad you liked it. I'm especially glad you picked up on both the events of the past and how she became so hardened. That's what I was going for. I hope my future stories end up being just as enjoyable for you :D

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21:35 Jul 24, 2020

I am sure they will 💖

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Jade Young
08:01 Jul 25, 2020

Thank you Chidalu. You can read "Fragments of The Past" and tell me what you think :)

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11:04 Jul 25, 2020

👍

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12:29 Jul 24, 2020

You wrote about her struggles so perfectly I was left speechless. You have a great way with words. I absolutely love this and can't wait for more.

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Jade Young
13:34 Jul 24, 2020

Thank you Abigail! That's such high praise coming from you :D I'm glad you liked it.

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Maya Reynolds
00:27 Jul 24, 2020

Wow, drastic ending! It was sad, seeing her internal struggle. A couple of great lines in there: "If the eyes were the window to the soul, she would never allow them to get even a glimpse of hers" and "There is only so much that her shades can hide. There is only so much history that she can cover up with a pretty drawing. No matter how much she tries to change or redecorate this room or herself, she can never run away from any of it. No matter how much she pretends she is a grown up, the heartbroken little girl she used to be hasn’t grown u...

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Jade Young
05:27 Jul 24, 2020

Thanks Maya! I really appreciate your feedback. I especially worked hard on the buildup to the ending so I'm really glad it stood out for you :D

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Rhondalise Mitza
23:28 Jul 23, 2020

Wow, this was excellent! Great job writing, Jade. :D

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Jade Young
23:30 Jul 23, 2020

Thank you Rhondalise! Your feedback means a lot to me :D

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Cole Lane
17:35 May 05, 2021

This was intense! Years of feelings, written so well. The opinion Rosanna had of her mother was quite clear lol! Wow, 'I hoped you'd go first ...' straight up, no repairing that relationship. Now, her sister, that poor girl will need some therapy when she starts to deal with own stuff. But, the emotions Rosanna has toward her father, that is a giant ball of mismatch yarn!! I love the ending, the take charge moment, the wonderful feeling of control! Wow! Nice work.

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Jade Young
17:44 May 05, 2021

Thank you so much for reading and commenting ❤ I'm really glad you enjoyed it 🥰

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John Del Rio
19:06 Sep 26, 2020

as well done as the other stories you have submitted. family can be the most wonderful and yet most dreadful thing. the pain she feels and how her past has molded her into the woman she is: and how you can tell that she wishes things were different. i will continue to read your work as long as you continue to submit.

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Jade Young
04:21 Oct 03, 2020

Thank you John for taking the time to read and comment😊 I really appreciate it❤ I'm glad that you were able to really feel what she was going through, and that you enjoy reading my pieces. It fills me with such joy to know that my writing can make an impact😊❤

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22:57 Sep 14, 2020

Looking forward to these Stone women in future stories!

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Jade Young
23:02 Sep 14, 2020

I didn't even notice I used the same surname😂 Thanks for reading and commenting 😊 I'm glad you enjoyed it❤

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B. W.
17:59 Sep 10, 2020

Like the other story this is a great one as well i liked really everything about it ^^ i still don't think anything was wrong with it. though with any of your stories im not sure if you want me to leave advice or something, if ya want me to then i will at some point. another 10/10 :)

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Jade Young
18:04 Sep 10, 2020

Thank you so much! As for your story, Bonding, am I supposed to read the one titled part 2, or did u mean another one?

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B. W.
18:11 Sep 10, 2020

Yes i mean the one that says "Bonding? (part 2)" sorry for confusing you. remember to leave feedback still, i wanna see what ya think of the ending :)

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Sam T.
09:06 Jul 28, 2020

You are such a talented writer! Your descriptions are amazing and depict everything so well.

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Jade Young
09:07 Jul 28, 2020

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my stories. Your praise means a lot to me :)

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Sam T.
21:08 Jul 28, 2020

Welcome ♡ you deserve the praise, you're an excellent writer :)

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Iona Cottle
21:50 Jul 27, 2020

I loved it- the descriptions, the drama, the heartbreak, the misplaced love, all of it. A stunning story, well done :D

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Jade Young
22:14 Jul 27, 2020

Thank you!

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Kelechi Nwokoma
14:12 Jul 25, 2020

Wow. This story is also amazing. I felt a little sad over the memories the house brought and I don't blame her for wanting it to be demolished that night. Great job on the descriptions, too. They flowed really well with the story.

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Jade Young
16:15 Jul 25, 2020

Thank you :) I'm glad I was able to evoke real emotions as you read about her past. I hope you enjoy my future stories as much as you liked this one🙌🏽

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Awesome! Great ending, too. Keep it up! - Aerinnnnn!

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Jade Young
00:09 Jul 24, 2020

Thanks for the feedback Aerin!

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Lizzie Brown
08:40 Sep 15, 2020

I liked the way the story flowed. It was very well done.

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17:35 Sep 13, 2020

I loved this! I’m such a fan of stories about the things that haunt people, whether a literal ghost story or a dark past, and this one was done phenomenally. The way that you write tension between characters and build it in the story in general is so captivating. Can’t wait to read more!

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Jade Young
17:48 Sep 13, 2020

Thank you Dori :D I'm really glad you liked it.

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S. M
05:04 Sep 01, 2020

Wonderfully written!

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Zoe Kuebrich
22:25 Jul 29, 2020

I love the writing style, especially the diction and fluidity.

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Jade Young
23:00 Jul 29, 2020

Thank you so much Zoe :)

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