Under The Rug

• Raymond Saunders-Ratcliff, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2009

Two weeks past and it happened again. The house was shaking. The windows were opening and shutting like a tornado was going on outside. Then cups were cups falling out of the cupboard. They were smashing on the ground. There was glass everywhere.

Frank, the owner of the house, woke up in a fright. He rushed straight downstairs and went straight to the door, only to find that the door was locked. He tried to open the door, but it would not budge a bit.

Frank yelled with fear, as he saw a flicker of movement behind him. He picked up the wooden chair left of him and swung his head around. There it was under the rug. It was like a snake in long grass. Frank swung the chair over and over until he hit something. Frank lifted up the rug and there it was. It was a little blue colored girl.

She got up and put her wet arm on Frank’s chin. Frank was in shock because it was his daughter Shanty. Shanty reached out again. She had black eyes, veiny blue arms, black hair and stab holes in her back.

The day that Shanty died she was praying by the river in Sherwood. She was all alone. A man attacked her from behind and dumped her body in the river. Then the man left in the misty fog, while she drowned in the mucky water.

Frank was lost in a spiraling world of confusion and loneliness. Then he dropped to his knees and sobbed until there were no more tears. Shanty took Frank’s hand and pulled him closer and closer until they were face to face. Then she grabbed his head.

As she was twisting his head, he was thinking how happy he would be with her in heaven. Finally there was a snap. Shanty had snapped Frank’s neck. Frank died with a smile on his face. Finally they could be together forever.