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A Mother Essay Sample

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A Mother Essay Sample

‘Michael Michael’? That was my tiresome mothers voice, I meant stepmother. I opened my weary eyes and saw the same old view I had seen for seven years of my life. Furthermore it was going to be the same old day. I got out of my bed, which was more like a rubbish bin with litter everywhere. I turned on the dingy lights which only produced a faint glow and I put on my glasses. I got up eagerly knowing that I had to leave the house before my step mother saw me, so I walked over to the door which was no more than two metres away and put my ear against the filthy rotten door.

I was in the basement locked away from my bother and sisters who where eating breakfast with my step mother. I could hear the ringing mental sound of knife and forks hitting the plate and could hear my brothers being childish. I knew that my step mother could not control the kids and she let them do what ever they wanted but she could control me. She would do everything to me such as kick me, spit at me, throw things at me and punch me, but only I saw the damage.

I waited until they had gone upstairs before I made a move for the kitchen. ‘Thud Thud’ the noise of two brothers and one sister all going up the stairs at the same time. I opened the ice cold handle and crept to the kitchen hoping that my mother would not come down and see me. The abominable smell of bacon made me feel sick. I ran over to the toaster and got out the remaining pieces of what seemed to be toast and I gathered my school bag and sprinted to the door. I heard some footsteps coming down the stairs, so I opened the door in fright and knew that now I was free for a couple of hours at least. I made the brief journey to school and threw the piece of toast away. I made it just in time for school and was ecstatic when I saw Jimmy waiting out side school for me.

The bell went and it was the end of school it had raced by and I know what was waiting for me at home. I walked leisurely out of school and could smell the thick fog in the sky. It was close to Christmas and I knew that soon it was going to snow. Looking up I could see the looming purple sky taking over blue; they seemed to chase each other. I put my hands in to my pockets and put my worn out gloves on as the biting cold wind attacked me. It was as cold as the hand of my step-mother. I was shivering.

I entered the street on where I live and my house was in sight. I opened the door to find my stepmother waiting for me. I let my bag plummet form my sweaty hands and I shyly walked in to the kitchen. She followed me. I went over to the fridge pretending not to be concerned and I got a can of coke out of the fridge. It was freezing so I put it down on the counter. “Do you want some food?” bellowed my stepmother with a smile and in reply I shook my head. “Well you have to have some” and got a golden brown apple, came over to me and shoved it in my mouth. I cowardly ran away to my bedroom. I sat on the bed. The apple was sour in my mouth and my lips were bleeding.

She came after me like a raging bull. I turned my head and saw the malicious look in her eyes. I knew what was going to happen. She came over and sat beside me just staring at me. We sat like this for a number of minutes. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. She raised her hand. Patted me on the back and I could tell that she was livid. She raised her hand a second time. This time clobbering me on my back. I winced in pain. No one could see her doing this. She then again punched me in the stomach. The salty tears running down my face, she slapped me again for no reason. She got up. “Your real mother is dead” she mimicked. She left and I put my face against my pillow. I had to leave and I would do it tomorrow.

* * *

It was here and I would go for it. I ran out of my room and out of the door in a blink of an eye. I looked at the beautiful photo of my mother and I and looked at the address on the back of it. ‘146 Witling Street’ was where she lived and I could get the train to Devon. I jogged to the bus stop which took me a couple of minutes and to my delight the bus came. I hopped on and paid the ridiculous fee and sat at the front of the bus. The bus was not busy and there was only a minority of people sitting down, I was afraid, scared of this women or something else that was sitting at the back of the bus. She was as ugly as a witch and her eyes burned into the back of my head. I got off the bus thankfully at the local train station, looked left and right, went forward and paid the fare to the fat old man who irritated me by whistling. The ride took ages and the windows were condensing. I was finally there in the right city, knowing that I would rendezvous with her in matter of hours.

I jumped off the train and walked out of the station where the huge city spread in front of me like a monstrous beast waiting to eat me. I got on another bus not knowing where I was going. I asked the rather good looking bus driver where Witling street was and he replied that it was about five minutes away, so he let me off the bus there. I walked down the fulgent road and turned left and my heart pounded when I saw the road I was on. It was the road where my mother lived. I walked on the road and I was rather scared of what she would say to me, but I carried on walking. I could remember her great cooking and her tasty casserole in my mouth.

I was now opposite her house, the house of joy and elation and I knew that she would love to see me. It was a busy main road and the car fumes made me cough as the carbon dioxide filled my lungs. I walked out in to the road just between two cars and through the curtains I could see her, my mother and she was waiting for me calling my name.’ Michael Michael’, so I went. Only she was in my mind. I stepped out in front of the road eyes fixed to the house. I took another step slowly and eagerly, and I could hear a horn, I turned my head, and I was blinded by the low autumn sun. I closed my eyes.

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