literature

Similar to Reflections of a Family (first person)

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Literature Text

I stared up at the grand mirror, scared by just how intimidating it was. Carved along the top of the rectangular mirror were pretty, looping spirals of wood that made me dizzy after looking at it so long.  The windows were angled just so that it made the mirror glow a deep polished shine while also making all the other furniture seem as gray as a mouse covered in dust.  The drab furniture turned towards it like how a sunflower faces the sun, and I couldn’t help but feel as if I was one of those old couches too. That mirror was like a beautiful performer on stage while the rest of the room was only the audience covered in shadows.  The audience’s sole purpose was to look up in awe towards the stage. Somehow, even the carpet seemed to be dirty with purple jelly except for the area right around the mirror.  
I felt so out of place near it even though it was in the circular living room of my own home. I almost dropped the art set I had at hand but I quickly caught myself and clutched it tighter.  I had to carry out this task or else Mommy would keep moping.  If I did this, Daddy would come back home after being gone for so long and Mommy and I wouldn’t be lonely anymore.  I opened my art set and took out the lime-green paint of a fresh blade of grass.  
“This is for our family,” I think, and I take a deep breath before I started to paint on the mirror.
I remember how Mommy and Daddy used to say how much of an artist I was whenever I showed them my artwork.   I wish Daddy was here so he could see me draw again.  Birds launched from my paintbrush onto the mirror and an unending blue sky seeped between their black wings.  In the middle of the scenery, I drew me. My painted ‘reflection’ smiled happily back at me with straight orange hair that was tied by a ribbon and a “cute, round face” as Mommy used to say, although she also said I had a stubborn jaw.  I had short, stubby legs so even on the very tip of my tippy-toes, I could barely manage to paint Mommy and Daddy on either side of me. On the last and most important part, I carefully drew all of us holding hands and smiling at each other.  
I took a step back and gave an approving nod at my work.  
Later, I heard Mommy’s door unlock and Mommy step downstairs to the living room. I could barely conceal my giggles as I pretended to sleep in my room.  I just couldn’t wait to see how happy Mommy would be.  I tossed off the covers and quietly stepped downstairs. I peeked around the corner to stare into the living room.
Mommy was looking at my drawing. Yet, while the painted mom in the mirror was smiling, Mommy was crying.  Her bangs were a mourning veil over her cloudy eyes.  I saw her shakily bring out her phone to call someone.  There are a few shouts when the call got through and then she slammed it shut.  She suddenly stood as still as a statue.
After the longest period of silence, I heard the front door unlock. A man with a strong back, familiar bristly chin, and kind eyes stepped into the room.  Daddy was finally home.
I could only stare at him as he walked up to the ‘reflection’ of him I had drawn in the mirror. His back turned rigid as he looked. Finally, a deep voice emanated from him. “You haven’t told Sophia we’re divorced now, haven’t you.”
What? No, no. It couldn’t be. Mommy and Daddy promised we would always be together.
Yet, I knew it was true.  Oh gosh, it hurt. Anger pulsated through my body and my bones shattered like a mirror falling to the impure ground. All I wanted to do was scream at them until my lungs burst.  Suddenly, I stepped out from hiding space.
“No,” I whispered. My parents turned to look at me, surprised and then horrified I had overheard them.
“No! Wait! Let’s talk this out sweetie!” They cried.
“NO!” I yelled.  “You liars! You said we would always be together! Stick with your promise! Don’t leave me…” I barely sobbed out the last words.
My feet blurred into a run and I quickly locked myself in my room.  They pounded at the door but I did not open it.  They called for me but I did not hear.  It was some time before they stopped but my mother’s sea of grief never ceased.
The days passed and I had stopped talking with my parents.  My dad started coming home every day, bringing me gifts, but I always turned them down and said, “You don’t belong in this house.  You’re not my dad anymore.”  My mom tried so desperately to get me talk but my eyes went right through her transparent body; she was a ghost.  Slowly, she stopped trying so hard and started to lock herself in her room.  
One night, I pressed my ear to her bedroom door out of curiosity. I heard muffled sounds of sobbing and my heart clenched.  Before I knew it, I had opened the door, rushed to her side and embraced her.  She was startled and asked me if something was wrong.  I only whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I realized then that I could not dream and dream over and over again, hoping for a different ending. I could only look forward and without regrets.  The next day, I accepted my dad’s gifts and brought him inside into the living room by the mirror.  The happy family I had drawn before had not been touched since my denial. My mom was already there, waiting.  I slipped my hands through my parent’s and I smiled, like the bright smile of the drawn girl in the mirror.  
My parents smiled back and we matched our reflections in the mirror.
If you've read my previous work, "Reflections of A Family," you'll have noticed it has the same idea as a basis.
Well, it happened because of a homework assignment. T^T I had to write a coming of age short story in first person within 3 PAGES DOUBLE-SPACED!!! THAT IS WAY TOO SHORT!!!
Oh well. At least it taught me a few things about how quickly you have to be able to entice the reader and then resolve the issue. Furthermore, it made me realize how much I despise writing in first person. ^^; I'll have to work on that.
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