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A young woman cried. No, she wasn't even that. She was a teen, no older than fifteen. Her ashen hair was shoulder length and pulled back with a sunshine yellow, cheap plastic hair-band. A police officer wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, obviously knowing the teenager well. A much smaller girl, only four or five sat beside her on the old, ugly green couch, trying hard not to cry as well. Her hair was down to her waist and the same color, a black ribbon tied in her hair. Both wore black dresses, the best clothes they had. Other officers searched the run-down residence finding nothing, not even food in the kitchen. One came back and asked her if they can search the bedrooms. While the older said it was fine, the younger watched them cautiously.
They went down a hall where three rooms were. The first to the left was a bathroom, so they moved on. The first to the right, just a little ways down, was the sisters' room. It was a soft lavender color with a full length mirror on the far wall. The bed was a full sized canopy and took up much of the space. Books decorated the walls on homemade shelves. A salvaged chest of drawers was pushed up against the wall, carefully repainted a soft periwinkle blue with gold finish on the edges and handles, and finally an easel propped up a painting of a giant sunflower in the courner. They decided nothing would be found there, so moved on. The last room was on the left, the master bedroom.
Inside the large bedroom was a giant king sized bed that was elevated above the ground and had steps leading up into it at the far courner. Closer to the door was a grand piano that gleamed from much good use. It was taken care of well and lavished with attention as were the many other, smaller instruments that scattered about the room. What set this room even farther apart from the rest of the house was the finely polished cherry wood floor that must have been expensive when it was placed in. The rest of the house was worn, cheap plywood that was covered by large rugs to hide the most horrible of the damage. A large, semi-circle window sent light dancing through the room as dust particles flitted in and out of the shifting patterns through the branches of the oak trees outside. Towers of papers took up any flat surface that there was, music written across them with an expert hand. Others contained written words in the form of poems.
One of the officers bent to pick one up only to be stopped by a little body standing protectively in front of the papers. They asked her to move and she refused. They asked again and she refused even more vehement.
"You can't touch brother's music! Brother loves his music! Please don't touch it! Only brother can touch his music! Only brother!" she shouted, tears starting to collect at the courners of her blue eyes, "Brother will be so sad if it isn't here when he comes back! Please let brother find it when he comes back. Brother will be so lost without his music."
"Natalya," a small voice came from behind the men, "Vanya isn't coming back."
The girl looked to her older sister with the tears streaming down her face, "No. He said he'd be back this morning. He-He said he'd bring me a cake for my birthday tomorrow. I-I made him promise! He promised he'd be back!"
The officers looked between one another. There was nothing more that they could do. They took their leave and the one familiar officer took the two girls to his home, leaving the light to dance across the papers. It almost looked as though a hand was writing across the pages, yet no one was there to see the magic.
They went down a hall where three rooms were. The first to the left was a bathroom, so they moved on. The first to the right, just a little ways down, was the sisters' room. It was a soft lavender color with a full length mirror on the far wall. The bed was a full sized canopy and took up much of the space. Books decorated the walls on homemade shelves. A salvaged chest of drawers was pushed up against the wall, carefully repainted a soft periwinkle blue with gold finish on the edges and handles, and finally an easel propped up a painting of a giant sunflower in the courner. They decided nothing would be found there, so moved on. The last room was on the left, the master bedroom.
Inside the large bedroom was a giant king sized bed that was elevated above the ground and had steps leading up into it at the far courner. Closer to the door was a grand piano that gleamed from much good use. It was taken care of well and lavished with attention as were the many other, smaller instruments that scattered about the room. What set this room even farther apart from the rest of the house was the finely polished cherry wood floor that must have been expensive when it was placed in. The rest of the house was worn, cheap plywood that was covered by large rugs to hide the most horrible of the damage. A large, semi-circle window sent light dancing through the room as dust particles flitted in and out of the shifting patterns through the branches of the oak trees outside. Towers of papers took up any flat surface that there was, music written across them with an expert hand. Others contained written words in the form of poems.
One of the officers bent to pick one up only to be stopped by a little body standing protectively in front of the papers. They asked her to move and she refused. They asked again and she refused even more vehement.
"You can't touch brother's music! Brother loves his music! Please don't touch it! Only brother can touch his music! Only brother!" she shouted, tears starting to collect at the courners of her blue eyes, "Brother will be so sad if it isn't here when he comes back! Please let brother find it when he comes back. Brother will be so lost without his music."
"Natalya," a small voice came from behind the men, "Vanya isn't coming back."
The girl looked to her older sister with the tears streaming down her face, "No. He said he'd be back this morning. He-He said he'd bring me a cake for my birthday tomorrow. I-I made him promise! He promised he'd be back!"
The officers looked between one another. There was nothing more that they could do. They took their leave and the one familiar officer took the two girls to his home, leaving the light to dance across the papers. It almost looked as though a hand was writing across the pages, yet no one was there to see the magic.
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This is a story I wrote a while ago. I hope you enjoy.
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Aww! TT-TT Poor Natalya and Yekatrina! They lost their brother.
I feel sorry for them...so young....but hey, it makes for a great story! Excellent work! <3
I feel sorry for them...so young....but hey, it makes for a great story! Excellent work! <3