Narrative Practice

You could never really see her big hazel eyes under those thick brown curls.  People often assumed that she didn’t like revealing her eyes.  As an only child, the only companion she ever had was her little puppy Oreo.  She walked it around town, through alleyways, and wherever else she would go. She had always been very tall, just like her dad.  However 12 year old Mitchie wasn’t as bright, or as bright as she wanted to be.  Like her mother, she was dyslexic and found it very hard without any special help or guidance, let alone an education.  Other than all that, she wasn’t very interactive with people that she wasn’t very familiar with.

“Just stay here” he managed to say. “But I don’t want to!!” Mitchie snapped back.  “Please. Just stay with Oreo, I’ll be back” he assured her.  He kissed her forehead, then ran off into the dark.   Mitchie’s big brown eyes glanced down to her old green worn out Chucks and said to herself, “He’ll be back.  He came back last time.”  She grabbed her dad’s backpack, and stood up, dusting off her denim jeans that were once blue.  She tied up her big brown curls and started to walk towards the house.

“Oreo!” she called.  A tiny little Canine sprinted out of the darkness and towards Mitchie.  She patted his wrinkly golden fur.  Mitchie picked him up and he wriggled his short stubby paws in her arms.  “Good boy.” she said in a baby voice.  She looked around carefully to make sure no one had heard her, but all there was to see was dull street light blinking over a worn out car and a stack of rubbish bags.  She turned back around fishing around her dad’s backpack for the house keys.

Out she pulled two golden keys and jammed the smaller one into the door.  The door slowly creaked open, and little Oreo sprinted in, dodging the ripped cardboard boxes in the corridor.  “Oy!” Mitchie shouted.  Oreo walked slowly back out the door and waited for Mitchie to walk in.  She patted the mutt and walked in the door.  She suddenly stopped at the entrance of the living room and dropped the backpack and covered her mouth with shaking hands.

Oreo ran through her shaking legs but he too stopped at the sight of the living room.  She dropped to the ground and began to cry.  In her tears, she decided there was no other choice but to get her father as fast as she could.  She wiped her tears away, and grabbed the backpack.  She hooked Oreo onto his leash, hopped on her scooter and the two of them began to search for her father.  As a piece of crumpled paper with an address the only guidance they had, Mitchie’s dyslexia was not helping.