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It had arrived. I had been waiting for this day for years. It was the day I moved away from home and off to university. It was the best day of my life.
When my parents died in a car crash when I was eleven. I was taken to live with my aunt and uncle in the Highlands. I hated them and their children. Jake and John. Eleven and fourteen. John used to bully me rotten. I was a small child, all skin and bones as my dad used to say. John was big and broad, and VERY strong. He used to beat me up for the fun of it. Then I grew.
I’m quite tall now and thanks to endless sessions at the gym I have grown quite an amount of muscle to add to that ‘skin and bones’. Now he is afraid of me.
Jake was never really a problem. We got on OK I guess but never best of friends. He had very few friends; he was what some people would call a ‘boff’. Always locked in his room working. I never really used to see him, only at meal times when no one spoke very much.
Then there was my aunt and uncle. My uncle was a small man, very committed to his work, and very rarely home. It was my aunt who was the problem. She was a slave driver. We all had to do our chores round the house, me more than the rest. We all had the usual, tidying rooms, laying table but I had to mow the lawn and wash the cars every week.
The trouble started when I went to live with them. Of course I was distraught at what had just happened. At first they were very nice, gave me new things etc. But as time went by they got more and more like they ended up being. The stinginess, the unfair treatment. The thing was I had never experienced the real world…
My parents always used to take care of me. If I wanted to go somewhere, they would drive me, no trains or buses. So when I went to live with my aunt and uncle it was a huge shock.
I also hated Scotland. I couldn’t stand the fact that there were no other people for miles on end and nothing to do. Jake’s idea of fun was working. Josh would go fishing. But me, I just sat at the house waiting for night to come.
So here I was, bags packed, accommodation arranged. I was finally leaving home. I was so happy.
I was off to stay with friends of my parents in New Zealand. It was all arranged. I would stay with them for a year, then come back and go to University. I couldn’t wait. It was an adventure waiting to happen. I felt ecstatic. As I kissed my aunt goodbye, I felt a surge of guilt rush through my body. Here I was leaving the people that had taken me in when my parents dies, and catered and housed me for near on seven years. And I was happy to leave. I felt disgusted at myself.
But it had to be done. I was leaving, and I couldn’t stay. I was halfway down the path by now. I stopped, put down my bags, and ran back up to my aunt. I gave her a huge hug, and then ran over to my uncle, sitting on a bench a few feet away. I jumped on his back, he had got up in surprise, and he wheeled me round a few times before giving me a hug. I ran upstairs, to where Jake and John were looking out the window. I picked up Jake and ruffled John’s hair. I said, “I’ll come an visit you”, and rushed back downstairs where I gave my aunt a final hug and ran, picked up my bags and jumped into my newly acquired land rover.
As I was driving away I looked back up at the house. They may not have been the best years of my life, but they were many years of my life…
The first line of the second paragraph is amusing because you've put a stop where you wanted a comma.
The end was refreshing, however. A little sentimentality is a change from the suffering, both mental and physical, that is usually portrayed in the shorts posted around here.
> I dunno whether that was good or bad :S
Nor me.
Such is life, such is life
No one died or was in the process of dying. No evil things came and smote the world into darkness. No one did something disturbing and socially unacceptable.
This is a new concept for me.
And it sounded a little like Harry Potter.
But not in a bad way.
Everybody now:
Awwwww
I didn't feel like dying or writing about death..
It had arrived. I had been waiting for this day for years. It was the day I moved away from home and off to university. It was the best day of my life.
When my parents died in a car crash when I was eleven. I was taken to live with my aunt and uncle in the Highlands. I hated them and their children. Jake and John. Eleven and fourteen. John used to bully me rotten. I was a small child, all skin and bones as my dad used to say. John was big and broad, and VERY strong. He used to beat me up for the fun of it. Then I grew.
I’m quite tall now and thanks to endless sessions at the gym I have grown quite an amount of muscle to add to that ‘skin and bones’. Now he is afraid of me.
Jake was never really a problem. We got on OK I guess but never best of friends. He had very few friends; he was what some people would call a ‘boff’. Always locked in his room working. I never really used to see him, only at meal times when no one spoke very much.
Then there was my aunt and uncle. My uncle was a small man, very committed to his work, and very rarely home. It was my aunt who was the problem. She was a slave driver. We all had to do our chores round the house, me more than the rest. We all had the usual, tidying rooms, laying table but I had to mow the lawn and wash the cars every week.
The trouble started when I went to live with them. Of course I was distraught at what had just happened. At first they were very nice, gave me new things etc. But as time went by they got more and more like they ended up being. The stinginess, the unfair treatment. The thing was I had never experienced the real world…
My parents always used to take care of me. If I wanted to go somewhere, they would drive me, no trains or buses. So when I went to live with my aunt and uncle it was a huge shock.
I also hated Scotland. I couldn’t stand the fact that there were no other people for miles on end and nothing to do. Jake’s idea of fun was working. Josh would go fishing. But me, I just sat at the house waiting for night to come.
So here I was, bags packed, accommodation arranged. I was finally leaving home. I was so happy.
I was off to stay with friends of my parents in New Zealand. It was all arranged. I would stay with them for a year, then come back and go to University. I couldn’t wait. It was an adventure waiting to happen. I felt ecstatic. As I kissed my aunt goodbye, I felt a surge of guilt rush through my body. Here I was leaving the people that had taken me in when my parents dies, and catered and housed me for near on seven years. And I was happy to leave. I felt disgusted at myself.
But it had to be done. I was leaving, and I couldn’t stay. I was halfway down the path by now. I stopped, put down my bags, and ran back up to my aunt. I gave her a huge hug, and then ran over to my uncle, sitting on a bench a few feet away. I jumped on his back, he had got up in surprise, and he wheeled me round a few times before giving me a hug. I ran upstairs, to where Jake and John were looking out the window. I picked up Jake and ruffled John’s hair. I said, “I’ll come an visit you”, and rushed back downstairs where I gave my aunt a final hug and ran, picked up my bags and jumped into my newly acquired land rover.
As I was driving away I looked back up at the house. They may not have been the best years of my life, but they were many years of my life…