Post by Black Sakura on Sept 14, 2006 2:24:43 GMT -5
Let's face it...who actually puts down the entire blatant truth in a memoir? People take out bits because it reflects badly on them, they don't remember, or otherwise. I just took some liberties with the truth.
For Mrs. George's class....but I thought I may as well post it.
..........................
"NATALIE!"
My mother's raucous scream resounded down the long airy hallway of our family home. I sat bolt upright in my bed, startled out of my sleep. It was morning, and the golden morning sunlight shone smilingly through the olive tree on the front lawn, dripping like honey onto the wooden floorboards of my bedroom. The windowpanes and the glass shades on the ceiling lamp glistened with lustrous grandeur.
"NATALIE! Wake up! We're leaving in ten minutes!"
Hurriedly, I throw the sheets off me to face cold reality. Impulsively, I recoil from the ice-cold October air beyond the warm blankets.
"I'm coming!" I yell in reply, deciding I would spend three of those precious ten safe within the haven that was my comforter. I hastily throw open the closet door and dig through my drawers until I am satisfactorily donned in my day clothes. Then I dive back into bed to warm myself as I slipped on my socks. Thus appareled, I lay back on the pillow again and closed my eyes, allowing myself a mere two seconds of dozing time...
I awoke again to a stern-faced little brother.
"Natalie! Come on!"
Patrick was both my bane and my best friend. We shared a bond that could only be shared by siblings, one even stronger than that of my other girl friends. His main vice, at eight years old, as compared to my ten, was that he had an insatiable urge to tell Mom whenever I was slacking. Nowadays, though, now that we're both in our teens, he respects the unspoken code of never to splurge information, fortunately for me.
My eyes jerked open before he could yell "Mom!!!!" Rather angrily, I tumbled out of bed, bringing him down with me. We landed in a heap on the floor on top of my blankets. Nice...now I needed to make my bed all over again...but never mind that, there was the heavy clogs of Mom coming down the hallway...
"Come on, it's time to go."
Mom was walking to her bedroom, and didn't bother even looking in our door. Quickly, I shoved the blankets haphazardly in some manifest of order and dragged Patrick outside to the car. You would never have believed that we were going to Disneyland that day.
...........................................................................................
Soon we were all bundled up in the van, a blue GMC with waves on the sides. I liked to think that no one in the world had waves on their van like ours. I was to be disappointed someday by the fact that my father bought another van with waves on the sides.
We had granola bars and apple juice for breakfast. Though Mom told us not to make a mess in the backseat, we ended up doing so anyways. She didn't notice until later, though, so we were safe for the time.
It was not a long time at all before we found ourselves on Main Street, looking down the old-style brick pathway and the false-front stores. Patrick and I obediently lagged behind Mom lest we be separated. We weren't acting so wild only because we were in awe...for Disneyland always had a knack for causing us amazement at that age. At one store, I recall Mom bought me a pair of white tennis shoes with Mickey Mouse on them, because I had worn impractical saddle-shoes in indulgence of my penchant for those at the time.
It wasn't the first time we had ever been to Disneyland. On the contrary, we had been several times in our pasts. However, every time we went was a new adventure, or so it seemed. We could have lived there and never grown bored.
The three of us made our way through the amusement park together, going on the milder rides such as Dumbo, King Arthur's Carousel, and Mark Twain's Steamboat. We ardently evaded thrillers, even the Haunted House, because we were afraid of them.
We saved our favorite place in Disneyland for last, however. It was late afternoon, about four o'clock or so, when we crossed the murky pond that separated the mainland from Tom Sawyer's Island. Patrick and I were tired quite a lot, but we were excited just the same. We adored playing in the roomy caves and hideaways in the island, especially built to be safe yet endearing to the most active and rambunctious of children like ourselves.
Mom took the opportunity to sit back and watch us as we abandoned her and raced off to contaminate the echoic chambers in the caves. We didn't know the story of Tom Sawyer, nor did we care; this place was the most enjoyable part of Disneyland, and who truthfully cared about Mark Twain, anyways?
Patrick met up with some other boys about his age and a bit older, then, and they joined with the two of us. Eventually, though, they all ended up leaving me in one of the darker caverns. I called for Patrick to come back, to notice that he had left behind his sister, but to no avail. I was nervous a bit, but I comforted myself with the thought that if he were in my stead, he would be crying at this point. Well, this wasn't much of a help; I found hot wet tears streaking my cheeks before I could even think to stop them.
Then my practical instincts took over, and I began to wander about, looking for an exit so that I might find Mom. To my utmost dismay, it seemed that every which way I turned, I saw the same things over and over and over again. I was reluctant to believe it, but finally I admitted it to myself...I was hopelessly lost.
I leaned against a stalagmite (or it might have been a stalactite) and cried to myself. I did really wish that Patrick hadn't abandoned me, that we had never come to Tom Sawyer's Island at all, and even that we had never come to Disneyland. I wished I could be anywhere but here, in the dark cave that frightened me, with no one and nothing to guide me from that dreadful place...
Then I heard a voice.
"NATALIE! NATALIE!"
I ran forwards, drying my tears hurriedly on my sleeves. My brother HAD noticed I was gone...he HAD come back for me! I raced towards the sound of his girlish voice.
"Patrick...Patrick...over here..."
Soon he stood in front of me, looking for all the world as thingyish as Huckleberry Finn himself. I glared at him.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"You left me behind!" I declared, being careful to speak clearly though there was still a lump of fear in my throat.
"Sorry." That was all he had to say.
"Is that it?!" I thought more than a simple apology should cut it.
"Yeah...why, were you scared or something?" Patrick looked at me quizzically, in that timid yet curious way no one but an undaunted bird or little brother can do.
I swallowed.
"Me? Scared? Nah."
For Mrs. George's class....but I thought I may as well post it.
..........................
"NATALIE!"
My mother's raucous scream resounded down the long airy hallway of our family home. I sat bolt upright in my bed, startled out of my sleep. It was morning, and the golden morning sunlight shone smilingly through the olive tree on the front lawn, dripping like honey onto the wooden floorboards of my bedroom. The windowpanes and the glass shades on the ceiling lamp glistened with lustrous grandeur.
"NATALIE! Wake up! We're leaving in ten minutes!"
Hurriedly, I throw the sheets off me to face cold reality. Impulsively, I recoil from the ice-cold October air beyond the warm blankets.
"I'm coming!" I yell in reply, deciding I would spend three of those precious ten safe within the haven that was my comforter. I hastily throw open the closet door and dig through my drawers until I am satisfactorily donned in my day clothes. Then I dive back into bed to warm myself as I slipped on my socks. Thus appareled, I lay back on the pillow again and closed my eyes, allowing myself a mere two seconds of dozing time...
I awoke again to a stern-faced little brother.
"Natalie! Come on!"
Patrick was both my bane and my best friend. We shared a bond that could only be shared by siblings, one even stronger than that of my other girl friends. His main vice, at eight years old, as compared to my ten, was that he had an insatiable urge to tell Mom whenever I was slacking. Nowadays, though, now that we're both in our teens, he respects the unspoken code of never to splurge information, fortunately for me.
My eyes jerked open before he could yell "Mom!!!!" Rather angrily, I tumbled out of bed, bringing him down with me. We landed in a heap on the floor on top of my blankets. Nice...now I needed to make my bed all over again...but never mind that, there was the heavy clogs of Mom coming down the hallway...
"Come on, it's time to go."
Mom was walking to her bedroom, and didn't bother even looking in our door. Quickly, I shoved the blankets haphazardly in some manifest of order and dragged Patrick outside to the car. You would never have believed that we were going to Disneyland that day.
...........................................................................................
Soon we were all bundled up in the van, a blue GMC with waves on the sides. I liked to think that no one in the world had waves on their van like ours. I was to be disappointed someday by the fact that my father bought another van with waves on the sides.
We had granola bars and apple juice for breakfast. Though Mom told us not to make a mess in the backseat, we ended up doing so anyways. She didn't notice until later, though, so we were safe for the time.
It was not a long time at all before we found ourselves on Main Street, looking down the old-style brick pathway and the false-front stores. Patrick and I obediently lagged behind Mom lest we be separated. We weren't acting so wild only because we were in awe...for Disneyland always had a knack for causing us amazement at that age. At one store, I recall Mom bought me a pair of white tennis shoes with Mickey Mouse on them, because I had worn impractical saddle-shoes in indulgence of my penchant for those at the time.
It wasn't the first time we had ever been to Disneyland. On the contrary, we had been several times in our pasts. However, every time we went was a new adventure, or so it seemed. We could have lived there and never grown bored.
The three of us made our way through the amusement park together, going on the milder rides such as Dumbo, King Arthur's Carousel, and Mark Twain's Steamboat. We ardently evaded thrillers, even the Haunted House, because we were afraid of them.
We saved our favorite place in Disneyland for last, however. It was late afternoon, about four o'clock or so, when we crossed the murky pond that separated the mainland from Tom Sawyer's Island. Patrick and I were tired quite a lot, but we were excited just the same. We adored playing in the roomy caves and hideaways in the island, especially built to be safe yet endearing to the most active and rambunctious of children like ourselves.
Mom took the opportunity to sit back and watch us as we abandoned her and raced off to contaminate the echoic chambers in the caves. We didn't know the story of Tom Sawyer, nor did we care; this place was the most enjoyable part of Disneyland, and who truthfully cared about Mark Twain, anyways?
Patrick met up with some other boys about his age and a bit older, then, and they joined with the two of us. Eventually, though, they all ended up leaving me in one of the darker caverns. I called for Patrick to come back, to notice that he had left behind his sister, but to no avail. I was nervous a bit, but I comforted myself with the thought that if he were in my stead, he would be crying at this point. Well, this wasn't much of a help; I found hot wet tears streaking my cheeks before I could even think to stop them.
Then my practical instincts took over, and I began to wander about, looking for an exit so that I might find Mom. To my utmost dismay, it seemed that every which way I turned, I saw the same things over and over and over again. I was reluctant to believe it, but finally I admitted it to myself...I was hopelessly lost.
I leaned against a stalagmite (or it might have been a stalactite) and cried to myself. I did really wish that Patrick hadn't abandoned me, that we had never come to Tom Sawyer's Island at all, and even that we had never come to Disneyland. I wished I could be anywhere but here, in the dark cave that frightened me, with no one and nothing to guide me from that dreadful place...
Then I heard a voice.
"NATALIE! NATALIE!"
I ran forwards, drying my tears hurriedly on my sleeves. My brother HAD noticed I was gone...he HAD come back for me! I raced towards the sound of his girlish voice.
"Patrick...Patrick...over here..."
Soon he stood in front of me, looking for all the world as thingyish as Huckleberry Finn himself. I glared at him.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"You left me behind!" I declared, being careful to speak clearly though there was still a lump of fear in my throat.
"Sorry." That was all he had to say.
"Is that it?!" I thought more than a simple apology should cut it.
"Yeah...why, were you scared or something?" Patrick looked at me quizzically, in that timid yet curious way no one but an undaunted bird or little brother can do.
I swallowed.
"Me? Scared? Nah."
