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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
About a seventeen year old girl sitting in her room as she watches the sun move through it, thinking about various things...

Submitted: July 22, 2017

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Submitted: July 22, 2017






The sun

slowly works its way up

the side of her bedroom wall

she watches as it reaches

the notch on the wall marking

her height at age five

she’s done this before

just lay back

as the sun envelops her room

in less than an hour

five years and five notches

will be swept over by

the day’s early morning light

once it hits ten years

the marks get further apart

and the sun’s rays start

to stretch across the wall

instead of up it

she continued to record her height

till age thirteen

with the date and inches

written next to each notch

shortly before turning fourteen

one of her friends called it


killing her desire

to ever do it again

with just that one word

she’s seventeen now

and if you look real close

you will see four slight indentations

where her mom has

lightly tapped a screwdriver

to continue to plot the

progress of her growth

guessing as best she can

to its accuracy

she pretends not to notice

the shallow divots

and her mom pretends not

to care about making them.

By 9am the sun makes it’s

way across the middle of

a poster on her bedroom door

it’s a picture of Ellen Page

from the movie “Whip It”

holding the top rail

of a skating rink

with such a look of

determination in her eyes

that this one frame of film

made her feel like

anything was possible

the poster had

four tacks in it

one in each top corner

and one in the middle

of each side of it,

taking advantage of

the unique angle

the sunlight took

across her bedroom door

she had started another

chart of progression

behind her poster of

Ellen Page

this one was of her

love life.

The sun would illuminate it

as it went rolling along

over her bedroom walls

a short dash

with letters and a date

attached to it


A simple but effective code

in case of accidental discovery

when it was decoded

it meant


the next dash with a date

was close behind the first



Tommy owned one more dash

before falling off the grid

and into obscurity

their were a few more names

attached to various dashes

before each and every dash

going forward

was connected to the same

initials  K-T


A month ago

she told her girlfriend Cindy

she might need a bigger poster

to hide all the new dashes

she hoped to be making,

but looking behind her

poster now

she can see the last dash

was three weeks ago


written in bold red print


The sun wraps around

to the other wall now

she sits with her back

up against the bed frame

facing the new tapestry

being brought to life

by the sun

as it catches

a stuffed giraffe

worn and old

sitting on the far corner

of her dresser

she patiently watches

as it gets painted

by the sun

taking her back to

simpler times

before boys

and the kind of love

and heartache

that makes you wish

you never had to grow up.

She sticks her hand

between the mattress

and the box springs

pulls out a nice

leather bound journal,

she use to call it a diary

but around the time

she quit recording her height

she started calling it a journal

she leafs through

some of her previous entries

a month ago

her writing was so fluid

dotting her “i” with happy faces

her most upsetting entry

only a paragraph long

about a pair of jeans

she bought on line

that didn’t quite fit right

then came the day Kip said

they would always be

great friends

but he had met somebody else

her long rambling sentences

went on for pages

she would push so hard

on her pen

tearing through the paper

at times.

She put the date

the day and the time

in the top left corner

on a new page of her journal,

her eye catches a glint of light

dancing on the ceiling

of her room

a cheap necklace hanging

from a shelf

found its way into the

changing path of the sun

she lays her head back

on top of her bed

staring at the prism of colors

created by the light

passing through the

polished glass of the necklace

the ceiling looking

more like a desert sky

as the colors streak across it

like shooting stars

their movements magnified

by the gentle sway

of the necklace.

She looks back down

at the empty page

of her journal

gives a little shrug

and drops her pen

on to the empty page

closes her journal

and stuffs it back under

her mattress,

she hears a knock

on her bedroom door

“What?” she says,

in a very uninviting tone

“Your friend Cindy is here”

says her little brother,

knowing better than to

open the door

without written permission

“What’s she want?”

she asks him


“she didn’t feel the need”

“to fill me in on her plans”

“But if you want breakfast”

“You better hurry up”

“Cindy’s eating all the pancakes”

her little brother

relished that last part

their mom made

killer blueberry pancakes

and they both knew

Cindy could eat.

She could hear the sound

of her little brother

running down the stairs

yelling towards the kitchen

“She says she’s not Hungary!”

“Cindy can have hers”

her brother knowing

that will get her moving.

She pulls open the middle

drawer of her dresser

grabs a pair of shorts

throws herself backwards

on to her bed

with her legs in the air

she pulls off her sweats

puts both of her legs

in to her shorts

in one swift motion

popping off her bed

on to her feet

yanks off her sweatshirt

grabs a Roxy tee shirt

out of her closet

and as she bounces down

the stairs while trying to

squeeze into her shirt

she thinks,

“Maybe today,

Will take me to places,

Worth writing about,


as she jumps

the last five stairs

in an effort

to get a few of

those blueberry pancakes…


Tom Allen…07-20-2017…


© Copyright 2018 Tom Allen714. All rights reserved.

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