Sharing Short Story By Hugh Essay

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SHARING Some of my childhood memories are gone, but what I do remember makes me glad I don’t remember all of it... At six years of age a child’s voice doesn’t really hold any merit when it comes to where they should or want to be in such an unforgiving world. I knew my mum wanted me there but a world that only pays attention to money won’t stop to pay attention to the whims of an insignificant life. When my mother’s financial problems began I went to live with my father, and his wife. From the beginning it was clear that I was going to receive no affection from the trog. My father was often gone on business trips, leaving me alone to defend against the abusive cow who took her angers – for not having custody of her own children – out on me... *** I walk with my eyes on the floor, feeling too down to find the willingness to bring my head up. My shoulders ache from the bags she has made me carry the whole way through the mall like I am her personal servant. I look back and see her slowly making her way, peering into every shop window as I trudge my way along. I reach the end of the level and come to the top of the escalator, unable to support myself on the rail because of the bags. I begin to turn to see if she’s caught up but for some reason I feel my body move and turn in the opposite direction. As I fall I see her face supporting a crude looking grin of victory. My head is the first to hit and the bags fly free of my grip and down past my tumbling body, with the rest just becoming a blur of pain. As I exhaust all the breath in me with a scream and cry enough to fill an ocean I am meet by a lady at the bottom of the escalator who saw me “fall”. “Oh you poor thing, are you alright?” The pain is too much to be able to get out an answer. She quickly supports me as the troll comes to my side – all I receive from her is a slap for being rude by not

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