My GhostA Story by Lauren
I walk out of the movie theatre and cringe in the sunlight. My feet take me down the sidewalk. The air is smoggy today (when isn’t the air smoggy?) and the taxis rumble past and the annoying tourists wearing fanny packs yap about the taxi drivers that have apparently almost run them over. There is a little boy walking with his mother who trips and skins his knee and starts crying. I feel that red-hot anger rise up inside of me like lava in a volcano. I remember my father, Shut up, shut up you worthless piece of s**t! fists and pain and then nothing. I keep walking, walking to escape the crying, my father. I reach home and relax on the couch to watch the news. Tonight on ABC News at six: And a little boy killed at his local movie theatre: what the police are saying could have caused this tragedy. All this and more in five minutes! It all sounds boring, but I’ve nothing better to do so I keep it on. In five minutes, the gas prices are up, the president’s approval ratings are down, and the little boy was beaten to death after crying and disrupting a movie. Got what was comin’, my father whispers to me later in my sleep. © 2008 LaurenFeatured Review
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