Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25891880-20150503222200

I am a father of a son, and a daughter and a grandfather of three kids. I was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2005 and have been a pain in the ass ever since. I have had a lot of trouble remembering anything to the point where I got in fights with members of my family. I’ve caused suffering for them and I don’t think they want me around anymore.

One morning, I got up from my bed. The date was November 23rd, 2013. I looked at the time and it was 10 o’clock in the morning. A very unusual time it was! I don’t usually sleep in. It was the one day I decided to apologize to my family for all the stress I’ve caused them. I wanted to figure out what I could do to make this work with them. I went to the door. It wouldn’t open. I tried more, but it would not budge.

Strange, I thought. Did someone lock me in? That was impossible, because you could only lock this door from the inside, not on the outside. I tried, and tried, and tried. I even kicked at the door. Damnit, if only I wasn’t so old and weak. I decided to get my cell phone and call for help. I looked for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. I looked anywhere I could. “This is outrageous!” I shouted. “Get me out of-“ – I was stopped by the sound of a loud noise. It sounded like a truck. Thank goodness, I thought to myself. I marched to the window. Shit, it was too dirty and sticky to be seen out of. I started to shout. “Help! Help! Get me out of here!” They obviously didn’t hear me.

I sat down for a few minutes, thinking. That annoying truck sound wouldn’t go away. Who would lock me in my own room? I looked at my son’s desk (We lived in a small house, therefore he was stuck with making his office in my own room. I was unfit to live in my own house, you see, so I lived here). It was surprisingly empty. All that was left was a few notes, but there was one paper that caught my eye. I scraped it up from the desk and read it. It was about selling a house. Our house. I remember now! We were moving to a new beautiful home out of state. There would be more rooms and it would be easier to live there. Then I found something else; “Demolition Date: November 23rd, 2013.” I heard the truck noises come closer and closer after that. But they weren’t trucks.

Then I realized something; my family locked me in here. They knew I would forget this day. The day the city would send workers to demolish the house. My family wanted to get away from me. I tried to kick the door open with all my might, but it just didn’t break. The tractors came closer and closer, and I was still locked in the house.





'''Sorry if this is akward and I already published a story two days ago, but I just couldn't stop writing. '''  