Creative writing page#4

in art •  7 years ago 

#CreativeWritingContest #2

Page#4

An instrument of death is sent by our enemy nation to take our lives every day or so. They do not want to kill our bodies... They want to kill our souls... They want us to burn alive from the scorching heat produced by the toys our enemy nation plays with.
Every single day I witness the deaths of hundreds of Young and old, male and female, rich and poor.

My father, who used to be a good person, is of no less evil mind than that of our enemy nation.... he is an alcoholic... He beats me with a metal baseball bat just to take out his frustration. Whenever my mother interrupts him, he not only abuses her emotionally and physically but also calls his psycho friends, our neighbors, to do unexplainable stuff to my mother, which he makes me watch as a punishment of my existence.

Did I tell you before? He, my father, traded my 11 year old sister in exchange to 6 bottles of some special magical alcohol that was brewed 250 years ago. I wish I could do something... Mom suffocated my other sister to death because she knew he would trade her too... She has also given me a magic pill... She says if I take it, I will be in heavens but I don't want to leave her alone... Maybe one day if I could get my hands on my father's gun, I could send her to heaven first...

Don't try to feel my feeling... You heart will burst into pieces...
Be happy with what you have...
Pray with me " God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
For me, life is nothing more than pain and misery...
Dad is home, coming upstairs with a leather belt in his hand, the one mom gifted him on their first anniversary, gotta hide...

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