Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

July 21, 2018, 09:39:58 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: spy  (Read 23 times)
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« on: July 12, 2018, 06:02:12 AM »

In certain rooms of this old two story house, it's blistering hot. In other rooms, it's freezing cold. He likes to sleep downstairs in his grandfather's office because there are at least two window units running at full blast. One of the 10 or so people who live here like it cold at night. He wakes up and there are icicles formed in the inside of his nose. The room is empty. He steps onto the cold, wooden floor. It’s quiet except for the hum of the a/c units. It’s probably 7 or 10 o’clock in the morning. He wanders out of that room and into the hallway.  There he can see across the hall into the living room. Cattycorner into the dining room and kitchen and to the left the front door.  The sun is coming through the window in the front door.  No one in this part of the house.  He can smell the lingering of cigarette smoke in the dining room. Cooling coffee and the remnants of breakfast cooked not long ago.
Above him, the staircase leads to the secret lives of his family. His young aunts and uncles. His mother's siblings, their friends, and his grandmother.
He walks up the creaking staircase quietly. He knows if there is a hungover aunt or uncle up there, they will be annoyed at him sneaking around. If grandma has worked the night shift at the police department, she will be angry if he wakes her up.  He nervously and excitedly walks up the staircase, trying to make no sound.
Once upstairs he can see doors on his left and straight ahead. There is a window to his right that looks out into the front yard. He can see the big oak tree with a hole in it. So many toys lost in that hole.  He slowly turns the knob to the first door.  Still no sound.  Only the hum of air conditioner window units downstairs.  Upstairs is completely silent.  He looks in to see a sleeping aunt behind door number one.  She’s all tangled up in the covers and snoring gently.  She doesn’t wake up. There will be no rustling through her stuff today. She makes a small moan and turns over in bed but doesn’t wake up. He shuts the door as quietly as possible. This is one bored, lonely kid. He tries the next room.  Boom. It is empty. this is another aunt’s room.  Bingo. He must be
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