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Antiochian Orthodox Christian
Music major
Former homeschooler
Voice teacher
The world, the flesh, and father smith

Message to Readers

This is the end. You should go read parts I, II, and III! I would appreciate any kind of feedback.

The Red Fence: part IV

December 11, 2019


    Sam skipped along the road trying her best to whistle a tune; she couldn’t get real high though, Daddy was still teaching her. Tony may have laughed at her ragged shoes today, but he couldn’t say a thing about her bag. This Christmas, Mama and Daddy got her a real school bag. It even had a string so she could hold it over her shoulder. All January long, she had been walking into school with a smile on her face.
    Today the sky was pure white and the wind whistled right along with her. Sam couldn’t wait to show Daddy her new poem; this one was real special. Daddy said she wrote poems for herself but she didn’t write this poem for herself. She wrote this one for Daddy, just for Daddy.

    She closed the screen door behind her and put her pretty bag on the couch. Mama was at the kitchen table shredding chicken for dinner.
“Where’s Papa?”
Mama’s fingers stopped shredding, but her head stayed down.
“He’s gone sweetie.”
“When is he getting back? I wanna read him my new poem.”
Mama’s eyes drifted up to Sam’s.
“No sweetie, he’s gone. He’s not coming back, not this time.”
    Sam stood for a moment, not saying anything. She looked at Mama, and then the chicken, and then her pretty bag with her books and papers and her special poem. Then she walked over to the kitchen sink, opened the cabinet beneath, and pulled out her can and brush. Mama watched.
“Sweetie? Are you alright?”
    But Sam didn’t respond. She walked out the screen door, around the house, and down the path. She didn’t skip, or run, or shuffled; she just walked. And as she walked, something amazing happened; it began to snow. First, it came down in tiny specks, almost too hard to see and melting before they touched the ground, but then they began to gather together, and the specks became flecks, and they flickered a little before dying out. Then the flecks became clumps and some of the clumps stuck to trees and some hid under the leaves. But Sam didn’t look up.

    The red fence wasn’t very red anymore. Sam didn’t do much painting those days. And now the fence was chipped, and cracked, and covered in clay and muck. She set her supplies on a tree stump and began clearing the leaves and sticks. And then she stood back a few feet to assess the situation.
“Well,” she said, “I’m back.”


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  • December 11, 2019 - 1:52pm (Now Viewing)

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