Monday, November 15, 2010

Closet Search

In my English class, we wrote non-fiction stories about ourselves. (Well, the prompt was a non-fiction prompt, but this story is not entirely true. Though it has a basis, I exaggerated many things for the purpose of the story.)
I turned the in and then did some editing based on comments I recieved. It's not great and I'm not much for non-fiction. The hardest part was making it sound like the kid version of me. I'm still not sure I succeeded. But I thought I'd share it! I hope you like it! :)


Closet Search
By Rachel Rager

I had little time left. Mom would be inside soon and I was supposed to be weeding the garden.
I sat back.
Defeated.
Shoes littered the floor all around me. Dresses hung over my head. Some were sliding off their hangers but holding on by one shoulder strap, as though the hanger could stop them from landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. If they got in my way, I’d just dispose of them as I had done to everything else I’d encountered in the last couple minutes.
The cluttered space made it difficult to move. And it was too dark to see properly.
I sighed.
Perhaps if I had a flashlight. Not one of those giant ones that we took camping, but one of the small ones my dad kept with his tools in the garage. The red one with the LED light that I could conceal in my pocket and return before he discovered it was gone. It was brighter, too. Just what I needed.
I glanced outside and shook my head. I didn’t have time to get it now. I could see Mom’s bowl was full of tomatoes. She’d be inside soon.
I needed to find my dog and keep my secret safe. Snuggles had been a prize from selling the most Girl Scout cookies. I’d only had him for a few months. His zippered belly sheltered a necklace and the note. I must find it. Where could it possibly have walked to?
I heard my mom’s voice outside. My heart hammered in my chest.
I leaned forward and squinted into the darkness. My hand felt around on the shelf.
Nothing. The shelf was empty. A flashlight wouldn’t make my stuffed animal appear. He wasn’t there.
I flipped my hair from my eyes as my chest throbbed with an aching desire.
The sun dancing through the open window did nothing to help brighten the dark corner where I sat. It paraded the happy little flecks of dust that floated through the air but did nothing for the darkest recess of the closet. I wanted to growl at their carefree nature as they spun and played.
Snuggles was lost! I was going to die from shame.
Looking around I saw the toys that had exploded over the shoes from my exploits. Moments before, I had been on my hands and knees, the carpet rubbing my bare knees making them tender and red. My hands had catapulted objects into the air.
Once treasures.
The diary I wrote in every day. The tin where I kept different shaped rocks. The microphone I had begged my parents to get me last year for my birthday. The Barbie doll I had dressed up once and then forgotten. Jacks, balls, the stuffed strawberry I’d loved so much that it resembled a placemat.
I had searched frantically.
The only noises to be heard were the airborne objects hitting the floor and dresser behind me.
Slippers, books, and jeans that were too small that I hid from my mom so I didn’t have to wear them.
I wanted to cry.
My sister would claim Snuggles as her own if she found him. She’s probably the one who hid it from me, which is why I was here now. That was the problem with sharing a room. Half this stuff was hers. I had already gone through her toys but perhaps I should be more thorough. She was not a neat person, she’d never notice if something was out of place. She’d never notice if something went missing.
But I did. I kept everything neatly catalogued in my highly sophisticated brain. She might be younger and could spell my spelling words, but I could keep track of things. Except for the new jacket I left on the rack outside my classroom on the last day of school.
I leaned back on a lumpy bed of shoes and toys. I was done for. My sister must have found the note. My parents would tease me and tell everyone. I would be forever humiliated.
The house was silent, the smell of hot bread wafted down the hall. I heard my mom in the garage. If she found my room this messy, I’d be grounded for a year. Sighing, I threw everything back in the closet and closed the doors. I better get outside before someone was sent to look for me.
My search would have to continue later that night, after my sister was in bed. On my way outside, perhaps I could snatch the flashlight off the workbench.
If my sister found the note from Chris along with the necklace and showed it to my parents, I would never be able to show my face again. I closed the closet door and raced outside, determined to keep my secret safe.

2 comments:

Dean Lorimer said...

Wow...this is a story I need to hear more of! Who's Chris?

Rachel Rager said...

It move into the fiction a hair, Dean! I never did find that dog, though. And I can't remember what I'd hidden inside. Maybe nothing. I don't remember. I got that heart necklace from Kyle D. in 1st grade and there was a boy named Chris Eagle who liked me and gave me something in 2nd with a note that Mom teased me about. As I recall, I didn't like either of them. But it makes for a fun non-fiction short!