Eight Years Young

01/19/2010 at 2:41 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | 1 Comment

            In a moment, two worlds will collide.  The armies are assembled and ready to fight.  Each side has a different purpose, different reason of being.  They have tolerated each other in the past, but not today.  Today they are ready to engulf the other, to dominate the flat world that they inhabit.  They know that only one can ultimately survive, so they prepare for the final battle. 

            Without warning, the green army strikes, surrounding the white army; yet, the white hold their ground.  All of a sudden, a third party swoops in, dividing the two opposing sides.  The white army is now on the other side of a barrier from the green.

            My name is Joshua, and I hate when my food mixes.  Especially my mashed ‘tatos and peas.  Gross.

            Let me introduce myself better.  I am Joshua Mourney.  I live on Tumulton  Road in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with my mom and dad.  My mom is a nurse at a hospital.  My dad works in business.  I am not sure what he does, but he once told me that he has some people under him.  I don’t know.  Maybe that means he has an office on a higher floor than others.  I like to play sports and ride my bike.  But mostly I love Masters of the Universe.  It is so cool to see how the good guy can beat Skeletor!  Some day when I grow up, I want to be just like He-Man.  He is so brave and knows just what to do.  I wish that I could be strong like that right now… 

            I have short, blond hair, with blue eyes. 

            Oh yeah, I’m also eight.  Eight years young.  Man, I love that term.  I got it from an old lady from church.  It’s funny, cuz she always says that she is 90 years young, but no one speaks up to let her know that she is really old.  One time, I wanted to ask her if she had ever met Jesus, but mom laughed and said that the old lady wasn’t that old.  But I’m not so sure.  You’d think that if he was so special, she would remember back when she was little and he was preachin’ and stuff.  I dunno.  I just like the term because it makes me feel energetic and happy. 

            Also, I like it because I don’t like saying eight years old.  I don’t want to be old.  When you are old, you cry for no reason.  I mean, when you fall off a bike, it’s ok to cry because it hurts.  And when there is a spider, it’s ok because it is scary.  But old people just cry without a reason.  Like when I asked my mom one time in the car when dad was going to be around, she just started crying at the red light.  I didn’t mean to make her cry.  Honest!  I just hadn’t seen him in a long time.  Actually, I haven’t even been home for awhile.  We’ve been living with grandma for a month now. 

            The last I remember being home, I was upstairs playing with my He-Man play-set.  I got thirsty, so I went down to get a drink of juice.  As I came close to my mom and dad’s room I heard shouting.  My mom said, “I will never again sleep in the same bed that she was in!”  I still don’t understand that.  Mom had slept in that bed every day since I was born.  Why wouldn’t she sleep in it again tonight?  Maybe she likes to wash the sheets every day.  I don’t know. 

            I walked to the kitchen and got some apple juice; my mom came in soon after.  Her smile looked weird with her teary face and messy brown hair.  It was like she was sleep-walking.  She asked me if I wanted to visit grandma.  Of course I did!  I love her candy, and she always slips me things.

            But now we’ve been here a month.  You know what I found out?  The candy that grandma used to give me runs out after about two days.  I think she’s not used to kids who stay for a long time.  Instead, I am at the table, playing with my peas and mashed ‘tatos, wondering why my mom doesn’t smile anymore.

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  1. […] We got to see the world through the eyes of an 8-year old in this next short story entry […]

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