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    dots Submission Name: Fatherdots

    Author: Thinkingofyou
    ASL Info:    18/f/The sunny state
    Elite Ratio:    2.83 - 283/423/132
    Words: 314
    Class/Type: Story/Being a Teen
    Total Views: 969
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1662

       This is a short story I wrote, not really a story just kind of an exert from a larger story. About a day I had with my father. It was an important, simple day, that I wanted to write about. [shrugs] Just tell me what you think.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    “Want the top up or down?” He asks me as we pull out of the doctors office's parking lot. “Doesn't matter”, I mutter under my breath. I had never really seen my father happy. Except when I was younger of course, but the long term effects of the many drugs had taken charge, and my childhood memories were a foggy haze. Maybe I should act nicer towards him, I thought. But the few scars left on my arm pierced my eyes and I quickly changed my mind. He had bought this used 2001 dark green convertible mustang a few days ago and was eager to use it fully, so down the leather top rolled and my hair whipped me in the face while I pulled it back and tried to concentrate on the music blasting through my earphone. My father's midlife crisis struck the whole family with shock. Was our strong willed, dark haired father getting older? Just by looking at the shiny green metallic paint on his mustang you could tell his age and how he felt the need to go back 20 years and drive with his balding head in the wind. He looks at me, he smiles and asks how much community service I have to complete. I answer with a small grin, almost as small as pencil tip, and reply with a simple “20”, and look back down at my phone as if he had interrupted something important. I didn't like the idea of him happy, or of him speaking to me. It didn't fit right. Like trying to fit a piece from a cat and yarn puzzle into a dog and Frisbee puzzle. It just didn't work. I looked up, we had made it to our next destination. Osceola county's juvenile justice center. I shudder, open the tan leather paneled door and step into the sticky Florida heat.

    Submitted on 2007-08-08 15:54:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Hmm, very interesting. Self narratives are always a breath of fresh air. I think you did a pretty good job. Might want to space it into paragraphs more so it is a lil easier to read but other than that good job.
    | Posted on 2007-09-22 00:00:00 | by MaxHam | [ Reply to This ]

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