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LighthouseLoading...
Individual Illustrated Fiction
6th Grade
Benjamin Tasker Middle
Tomiloba Olateju
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"If you don't like something change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." - Maya AngelouLoading...
Lighthouse: A Story about Grief and Change
Tomiloba Olateju
Tomiloba Olateju
Chapter 1
….
I remember it clearly. Just like today, I was walking back from school after the bus dropped me and my little sister, Abigail. It was raining heavily so we shared the old umbrella with polka dots. Sarah, the oldest, took the new one with that clean white look we all loved, before we got a chance. Me and Abigail were arguing about who was faster in the water, when we noticed that everyone was staring. Not the good kind. But the one that just makes you feel bad.
As we got closer to home we noticed that there was the faint sound of a police siren wafting through the air. We quickened our pace, worried. There, our house was covered with caution tapes and an ambulance quickly sped by us. I could see Momma being comforted by a police officer, Weeping her eyes out. I stopped breathing. Sarah’s bus hadn’t arrived yet, and Momma and Papa were the only ones home. I ran, ignoring Abigail’s cries behind me, begging me to stop. My glasses fell, but I didn’t care.
I moved through the caution tape, reaching Momma. I looked at the officer’s blurry face, not able to identify him. But, Momma? I could recognize her bright strawberry blonde hair anywhere.
“Momma?” I asked. “Where’s papa?” She only cried harder. The police officer only placed his hand on my shoulder.
“I-” he stuttered. He couldn’t hear having to be the bearer of bad news. “Your father was near a shooting, and…” his voice trailed off. My hearing was muffled. I couldn’t even hear Abigail's whining voice behind me.
That was when I fainted.
….
….
I remember it clearly. Just like today, I was walking back from school after the bus dropped me and my little sister, Abigail. It was raining heavily so we shared the old umbrella with polka dots. Sarah, the oldest, took the new one with that clean white look we all loved, before we got a chance. Me and Abigail were arguing about who was faster in the water, when we noticed that everyone was staring. Not the good kind. But the one that just makes you feel bad.
As we got closer to home we noticed that there was the faint sound of a police siren wafting through the air. We quickened our pace, worried. There, our house was covered with caution tapes and an ambulance quickly sped by us. I could see Momma being comforted by a police officer, Weeping her eyes out. I stopped breathing. Sarah’s bus hadn’t arrived yet, and Momma and Papa were the only ones home. I ran, ignoring Abigail’s cries behind me, begging me to stop. My glasses fell, but I didn’t care.
I moved through the caution tape, reaching Momma. I looked at the officer’s blurry face, not able to identify him. But, Momma? I could recognize her bright strawberry blonde hair anywhere.
“Momma?” I asked. “Where’s papa?” She only cried harder. The police officer only placed his hand on my shoulder.
“I-” he stuttered. He couldn’t hear having to be the bearer of bad news. “Your father was near a shooting, and…” his voice trailed off. My hearing was muffled. I couldn’t even hear Abigail's whining voice behind me.
That was when I fainted.
….
Abigail shook me hard. “You ok?” she asked. I assured her, but she didn’t believe me. We reached the door to our home, but it was wide open. Momma never does that. We dropped our backpacks in the foyer, rushing around the house. We were met with and annoyed Sarah, cooking in the kitchen.
“Whatcha makin?” Abigail asked. Sarah quickly waved us away and we rushed upstairs. I got settled into a book I’ve been reading lately. It was called Grace's Window. It was a book about a girl named Grace. She was born with amnesia, and was scared of going out of the lighthouse she lived in. So each day, she would look through the window and tell of the exciting things that she saw on the beach to the bugs that lived there.
Papa would always tell us about why he loved the lighthouses. He called them ‘the beacons that light our way’, Papa was always a religious person, but Mama wasn’t. After his death, no one went to church, but we still did our occasional prayers. I had been reading for at least an hour, by the time Sarah’s annoying yelling voice called. I ignored her the entire time but it was just too much. I slipped out of bed, opening my bedroom door abruptly.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I yelled back.
“Dinner’s ready!” she told me from the stairs. I scowled about to go back to my room before she called me again. “Don’t forget to tell Abby!” So that Sarah wouldn’t yell at me again, I quickly told Abigail, who was blow drying her hair after her shower. I always envied Sarah and Abigail’s long smooth(-ish) hair. They got Momma’s soft black hair and her brown eyes, while I got Papa’s messy curled brown hair and black eyes. The only thing we all have in common is that we all have the same soft red lips, cheeks, and mixed skin.
Angry. I went back into my room and slammed the door, but I slipped on a soda can left in my room. I fell on my back and layed down. My back was still aching and the cold floor fetl soothing so I layed there for a while.
“Whatcha makin?” Abigail asked. Sarah quickly waved us away and we rushed upstairs. I got settled into a book I’ve been reading lately. It was called Grace's Window. It was a book about a girl named Grace. She was born with amnesia, and was scared of going out of the lighthouse she lived in. So each day, she would look through the window and tell of the exciting things that she saw on the beach to the bugs that lived there.
Papa would always tell us about why he loved the lighthouses. He called them ‘the beacons that light our way’, Papa was always a religious person, but Mama wasn’t. After his death, no one went to church, but we still did our occasional prayers. I had been reading for at least an hour, by the time Sarah’s annoying yelling voice called. I ignored her the entire time but it was just too much. I slipped out of bed, opening my bedroom door abruptly.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I yelled back.
“Dinner’s ready!” she told me from the stairs. I scowled about to go back to my room before she called me again. “Don’t forget to tell Abby!” So that Sarah wouldn’t yell at me again, I quickly told Abigail, who was blow drying her hair after her shower. I always envied Sarah and Abigail’s long smooth(-ish) hair. They got Momma’s soft black hair and her brown eyes, while I got Papa’s messy curled brown hair and black eyes. The only thing we all have in common is that we all have the same soft red lips, cheeks, and mixed skin.
Angry. I went back into my room and slammed the door, but I slipped on a soda can left in my room. I fell on my back and layed down. My back was still aching and the cold floor fetl soothing so I layed there for a while.
1
Abigail shook me hard. “You ok?” she asked. I assured her, but she didn’t believe me. We reached the door to our home, but it was wide open. Momma never does that. We dropped our backpacks in the foyer, rushing around the house. We were met with and annoyed Sarah, cooking in the kitchen.
“Whatcha makin?” Abigail asked. Sarah quickly waved us away and we rushed upstairs. I got settled into a book I’ve been reading lately. It was called Grace's Window. It was a book about a girl named Grace. She was born with amnesia, and was scared of going out of the lighthouse she lived in. So each day, she would look through the window and tell of the exciting things that she saw on the beach to the bugs that lived there.
Papa would always tell us about why he loved the lighthouses. He called them ‘the beacons that light our way’, Papa was always a religious person, but Mama wasn’t. After his death, no one went to church, but we still did our occasional prayers. I had been reading for at least an hour, by the time Sarah’s annoying yelling voice called. I ignored her the entire time but it was just too much. I slipped out of bed, opening my bedroom door abruptly.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I yelled back.
“Dinner’s ready!” she told me from the stairs. I scowled about to go back to my room before she called me again. “Don’t forget to tell Abby!” So that Sarah wouldn’t yell at me again, I quickly told Abigail, who was blow drying her hair after her shower. I always envied Sarah and Abigail’s long smooth(-ish) hair. They got Momma’s soft black hair and her brown eyes, while I got Papa’s messy curled brown hair and black eyes. The only thing we all have in common is that we all have the same soft red lips, cheeks, and mixed skin.
Angry. I went back into my room and slammed the door, but I slipped on a soda can left in my room. I fell on my back and layed down. My back was still aching and the cold floor fetl soothing so I layed there for a while.
“Whatcha makin?” Abigail asked. Sarah quickly waved us away and we rushed upstairs. I got settled into a book I’ve been reading lately. It was called Grace's Window. It was a book about a girl named Grace. She was born with amnesia, and was scared of going out of the lighthouse she lived in. So each day, she would look through the window and tell of the exciting things that she saw on the beach to the bugs that lived there.
Papa would always tell us about why he loved the lighthouses. He called them ‘the beacons that light our way’, Papa was always a religious person, but Mama wasn’t. After his death, no one went to church, but we still did our occasional prayers. I had been reading for at least an hour, by the time Sarah’s annoying yelling voice called. I ignored her the entire time but it was just too much. I slipped out of bed, opening my bedroom door abruptly.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I yelled back.
“Dinner’s ready!” she told me from the stairs. I scowled about to go back to my room before she called me again. “Don’t forget to tell Abby!” So that Sarah wouldn’t yell at me again, I quickly told Abigail, who was blow drying her hair after her shower. I always envied Sarah and Abigail’s long smooth(-ish) hair. They got Momma’s soft black hair and her brown eyes, while I got Papa’s messy curled brown hair and black eyes. The only thing we all have in common is that we all have the same soft red lips, cheeks, and mixed skin.
Angry. I went back into my room and slammed the door, but I slipped on a soda can left in my room. I fell on my back and layed down. My back was still aching and the cold floor fetl soothing so I layed there for a while.
2
I opened my eyes to see a square border on the roof. I could see something that looked like a rope dangling from there. I quickly got up to stare at it more. I’d never seen it in my room before, and so it sparked my curiosity. I didn’t have a chair in my room, so I tried reaching out. I jumped up and down, and I knew it wasn’t working when I heard Sarah’s annoying yell telling me to stop. I didn’t listen for a few more tries before finally reaching it. I could no longer feel my feet on the ground. I was at least 3 feet off the ground. I tugged to the rope even more, desperate to feel the ground.
After a few more tugs I finally did it. But as I came down, So did a ladder. Not feeling a hint of the fear I felt before, I climbed up to see a dusty room. It was lit up by the sunset glinting off a small window. I realized that I was in the attic.
After a few more tugs I finally did it. But as I came down, So did a ladder. Not feeling a hint of the fear I felt before, I climbed up to see a dusty room. It was lit up by the sunset glinting off a small window. I realized that I was in the attic.
And I could see clearly, all of papa’s things packed up in boxes.
Chapter 2
I couldn’t believe it! A few days after papa’s funeral, we had gone to stay at Grandma Carol and Grandpa Oscar’s cottage. It was small and could barely contain all 3 of us, but we were in no condition to complain. They had just lost their firstborn son. Every night, we would sleep to the sound of Grandma weeping. By the time we left, Momma had cleared any trace of papa in the house. She took down all the family portraits except for the one hung in the dining room. It was a picture of our entire family. Aunts, Uncle, Cousins, and Step-cousins. You name ‘em.
I looked around and saw scented candles all around the place. They were weirdly shaped so I assumed that Momma used them. They were Papa’s favorite scent; Chocolate Chip Cookies. I saw a green lighter next to one of the candles so I carefully lit one of them and held it tightly. I walked closer to the piles of boxes in amazement. I saw papa’s favorite mug, and every gift he gave to Momma. It was very dusty, but I could tell that it was my personal favorite photo. A picture of Papa holding Abigail as a baby, with Sarah and I right next to him. Papa always told us that change is always here. All you have to do is welcome it. Memories flooded my mind as I looked through one thing and another.
Before I knew it, minutes, then hours had passed. Abigail was worried though. I didn’t come downstairs to eat my dinner and it was almost 9:00. She knocked on my door and at first I didn’t hear her. But as soon as I heard my room door slightly open. I freaked out.
“Don’t come in!” I panicked. A cluster of noises were heard through my bedroom door and that only worried her more.“Why? Is everything ok?” she asked. I had finally come down from the attic but the ladder still remained. I stuffed it in my closet as best as I could, not wanting Abigail to worry any further. I quickly rushed to the door, opening it as wide as I could.
I couldn’t believe it! A few days after papa’s funeral, we had gone to stay at Grandma Carol and Grandpa Oscar’s cottage. It was small and could barely contain all 3 of us, but we were in no condition to complain. They had just lost their firstborn son. Every night, we would sleep to the sound of Grandma weeping. By the time we left, Momma had cleared any trace of papa in the house. She took down all the family portraits except for the one hung in the dining room. It was a picture of our entire family. Aunts, Uncle, Cousins, and Step-cousins. You name ‘em.
I looked around and saw scented candles all around the place. They were weirdly shaped so I assumed that Momma used them. They were Papa’s favorite scent; Chocolate Chip Cookies. I saw a green lighter next to one of the candles so I carefully lit one of them and held it tightly. I walked closer to the piles of boxes in amazement. I saw papa’s favorite mug, and every gift he gave to Momma. It was very dusty, but I could tell that it was my personal favorite photo. A picture of Papa holding Abigail as a baby, with Sarah and I right next to him. Papa always told us that change is always here. All you have to do is welcome it. Memories flooded my mind as I looked through one thing and another.
Before I knew it, minutes, then hours had passed. Abigail was worried though. I didn’t come downstairs to eat my dinner and it was almost 9:00. She knocked on my door and at first I didn’t hear her. But as soon as I heard my room door slightly open. I freaked out.
“Don’t come in!” I panicked. A cluster of noises were heard through my bedroom door and that only worried her more.“Why? Is everything ok?” she asked. I had finally come down from the attic but the ladder still remained. I stuffed it in my closet as best as I could, not wanting Abigail to worry any further. I quickly rushed to the door, opening it as wide as I could.
3