theorangejello
New member
A short passage written yesterday at my club Corinthian (we're a literary magazine)
We sat in our bed on Sunday morning, waiting for a sign of life. They always attacked us early morning, demanding food and other necessities for life. They always seemed to climb onto our bed and find their way through the sheets to snuggle up close. They always managed to voice their concerns in a loud and obnoxious manner, and at times, managed to push the spouse or I of the bed. At times it turned into a wrestling match, with us trying to sleep and them climbing all over our bodies. We slowly tip toed out of our room and down the stairs, avoiding at all cost the squeaky steps, and sat down quietly in the kitchen, still waiting. One rumble, then two, then a shriek and a cry; life tumbled down the stairs and into our arms ran a small boy and a dog. Our early morning attackers were finally awake.
We sat in our bed on Sunday morning, waiting for a sign of life. They always attacked us early morning, demanding food and other necessities for life. They always seemed to climb onto our bed and find their way through the sheets to snuggle up close. They always managed to voice their concerns in a loud and obnoxious manner, and at times, managed to push the spouse or I of the bed. At times it turned into a wrestling match, with us trying to sleep and them climbing all over our bodies. We slowly tip toed out of our room and down the stairs, avoiding at all cost the squeaky steps, and sat down quietly in the kitchen, still waiting. One rumble, then two, then a shriek and a cry; life tumbled down the stairs and into our arms ran a small boy and a dog. Our early morning attackers were finally awake.
