When I'm All Alone
It was early morning, and as the sun slowly rose over the rocky terrain of Terror Mountain, tiny Beekadoodles flitted past my sunlit window. Yawning, and stretching my furry, red arms, I sat up and lunged off of my bed, and trudged towards the open door. As I proceeded into the kitchen, the aroma of chocolate chip pancakes and hot cocoa hit my face like a speeding gormball. Mom rarely served us chocolate pancakes and hot cocoa for breakfast. The only time she ever did was to ease us when she would tell us news that might come to a shock to us, like the time when she was leaving town for a couple of weeks, and was going to put us into the Neopian Hotel.
The look of concern and shock surfaced upon my siblings' faces too, as they entered the kitchen, and inhaled the delicious fragrance.
After I sat down, I searched the table for the Neopian Times, where it usually was after Mom read it each and every morning. But it wasn’t there. How odd, I thought, glancing around the entire kitchen, searching for the missing paper. I thought about asking Mom where it might be, but her face expressed a worried look, and I didnt want to bother her at the moment. So I just sat there quietly and ate my breakfast with a tense, concerned feeling in my gut.
Finally, after all four of us had cleared our plates, we glanced up at Mom, who hadnt even begun to lift her fork yet. Her depressed look worried me even more, and I began to wonder if she was planning on abandoning us, and leaving forever. I sighed. There was no way she would do such a heartless thing. This ordeal can't be that bad. I tried to convince myself, but was unsuccessful.
I searched her face for a moment, trying to find any kind of hint to this mystery, but before I could search for long, she firmly cleared her throat. We all froze instantly, as if paralyzed, and waited for the words to spill out, expecting a huge dilemma.
"I have been pondering this for over two weeks now," she began, raising her head only slightly, so we could at least see her sapphire eyes. "Some of you have probably realized that the Neopian Times is not lying on the table, as it usually is. This is because I have hidden it," she continued, her head once again lowering to the table.
Why would she hide it? I asked myself, eagerly wanting to her to get on with her story, wanting to know why she hid it. It must be really bad, for she had never hidden the morning paper from us. I glimpsed over at my brothers and sister, and saw them impatiently waiting to hear the rest also, fidgeting in their seats.
"There is a certain article in there that contained information that I didn't want you to read. But now, I think it's time you knew.” She stood up and hastily grabbed a box from underneath the sink. She hauled it up and set it down on the table. After rustling through it, she brought out a stack of papers. She plopped it onto the table, and I discovered that it was the Neopian Times. I read the front cover, expecting something grave and devastating, eying it as though it were a death sentence.
But there was nothing grave, or devastating about it at all. In fact, it was just regular, daily news. All it read was that it was Poogle Day. How could that possibly be bad?
My question was soon answered as she continued.
"I want to adopt a Poogle," she said sullenly, as if all hope had vanished. I thought about what she said for a second, then said what I had to say.
"But you already have four pets," I half laughed, trying to act if this was a joke, and it was really April Fools or something.
But this was no joke.
She shook her head slowly, as a tear dripped from her head to the table’s surface, making me feel like the atmosphere had suddenly changed, and the weather had changed from sunny to pouring rain. I checked the window just to make sure, but it was still sunny. Not a drop of a rain.
"I know" was all she finally said, lowering her head, making her look even more despairing.
I thought intently for a few moments, trying to gather what she was attempting to explain. Then it hit me. Hard. I gasped suddenly, making my sister jump a little. I instantly felt angry and sad, both at the same time.
"You mean you’re going to give one of us up?" I asked, anger slurred into my words, hoping she would jump up and yell ‘Gotcha!’ and we would start yelling at her for fooling us, and then we would all laugh. But his wasn’t one of those times.
She slowly nodded.
My lip trembled, and tears began streaming down my eyes like miniature waterfalls. My head fell to the table, as little puddles began to form on its surface. I huffed, and whimpered, never once trying to restrain myself from showing my emotions. I listened, not once responding, as my brother angrily shoved his chair back, and stormed off away from the table and towards his room. I heard the unfamiliar whimpering, and sobs of my little sister, and wanted so much to go over and hold her close until she stopped crying. But I just sat there. I knew that she would never stop crying. At least not mentally. My other brother seemed unaffected by the sudden, heartless decision. But I knew that he was hurting inside; he just never revealed his emotions in public.
After a long string of motionless silence, I finally asked the question that had been swirling in my head frantically since Mom first mentioned that she wanted a poogle.
"So who has to leave?"
She shook her head, and stretched her arm over the table. She released her clasped and, and I watched curiously as a small piece of paper floated like a feather to the table top. I hesitated for a moment, but eventually reached out and grabbed the paper.
When I read the name written upon it, my eyes poured with tears, spilling out onto the paper and running the ink, making it illegible. A small part of me was sighing with relief that it wasnt me. But the rest of me was crying for the person that had to leave.
My sister, Ocean the blue Kacheek.
When I handed her the piece of paper. When she read it, she only nodded, stood to her feet, and retreated to the front door. I was going to lose my only sister.
To this day, I still cry for her, knowing that she is still in that cold, dark place. I regret not speaking up to my owner, telling her that it was wrong to do this. But being the red Zafara that I was, I did nothing. Now there is nothing to remember her by but my memories, and I miss her more and more every day.