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Thank you to everyone who helped and read it!
Alright, I just wrote this for class. It's due tomorrow. Everyone in my section has to read it and tell me what they think.
Well, all I have to say is that it’s about time. I mean twenty-six years is a long time to never leave your apartment. Hell, I’m her brother and I haven’t seen her in ten years! I finally got fed up with her and called the police, I just couldn’t take care of her anymore. I’m sure she was violating several safety laws too; the last time I went into that place it was littered with newspaper scraps, old, rotting food, and cat-hair. Lord knows how it’s worsened over ten years.
I know that Carmella’s going to be angry with me, but I had to call the police, I just had to! It’s so unhealthy of her to stay cooped up in her apartment, never going out in the sun. I couldn’t go over there to bring her food anymore either, I have surgery coming up, and afterwards I’m not supposed to use my legs for several weeks.
I guess I should step back and explain. My name is Adam, and if you’ve been paying attention to the news, I’m sure you heard about the crazy lady who hasn’t left her house in twenty-six years. Yes, the one who locked herself away after being frightened by an influenza outbreak. Well, that would be my older sister, Carmella. She’s a bit eccentric, as I’m sure you guessed, but nobody expected her to become a recluse. I mean, I didn’t expect it, and I know her better than anybody.
Carmella had always been a little weird, even in childhood. She never really seemed to have an actual germ phobia, but she would always wash her hands several times in one sitting, usually around six or seven. She would do this multiple times a day as well, but we didn’t pay her much mind.
We were three years apart, but as we grew up we were inseparable, as cliché as that sounds. We never really had any other friends growing up, most of Carmella’s classmates tagged her as being weird, which made me her weird little brother. This resulted in us spending all of our time with each other, so it’s easy to say that we became really close.
Twenty-six years ago, there was an influenza breakout in our area, which coincided with a shortage of vaccination shots. I didn’t panic because I knew I was resilient, but Carmella apparently didn’t feel ad I did. She locked herself away in her apartment, only allowing me to come and go.
I actually didn’t know she had done it; I had just been working at my job, minding my own business. One day I realized I hadn’t seen her in a while and I decided to give her a call. Just as I reached to pick up the phone, it rang right underneath my hand.
“Hello, this is Adam” I answered.
“I know damn well who it is. This is your sister,” was the screechy reply on the other end.
“Carmella! I was just thinking about you.”
“I know, why do you think I called?”
Not bothering to reply in Carmella’s delusion that our minds were linked in some telepathic way, I changed the subject. “Where have you been? We haven’t talked in a while.”
“I’m just here in my room. You haven’t stopped by lately.”
“Well I thought I might have seen you around town, you know it is rather small.”
“Why would you see me around town? I’m not leaving my apartment with all those germs running amuck.”
“What germs?”
“You know what germs!” She screamed into the receiver so loud that I almost dropped my phone in surprise.
“You mean the influenza outbreak? Carmella, that was over weeks ago.”
“It’s never over! Germs are everywhere, and I’m not leaving my apartment to be a target for their armies anymore.”
“How are you going to survive holed up in there?”
“I have enough food to last me a while. I just slip the check for the rent and utilities under my door, and then call the landlord to come pick it up.”
“Carmella, you can’t live like that. You’re going to run out of money.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. Are you going to come visit me soon?”
I sighed. Carmella was known in our family for her quick chances of subject. Trying to argue with her was pointless, as has been proven time and time again. “Yes, I’ll come visit you. Do you need me to bring you anything?”
“Some fresh fruit would be nice.”
“Ok, I’ll bring you that, and how about I cook you Chicken Parmesan. I’m sure you haven’t had good Chicken Parmesan for a while, and I know how much you like it.”
“That sounds great! I’ll see you at four.”
I heard a click and sighed again as I put the phone back on it’s hook. I wondered how long she was going to insist that she can’t leave her apartment, but then thought better of it, and I headed out to the grocery store and then to her apartment complex.
Soon Carmella and I settled into a routine. I would visit her several times a week, bring over some fresh food, and sometimes make her dinner. I was her only contact with the outside world, I would bring her mail into her, and she would give me anything she needed to reach someone on the outside. As I went to her apartment week after week, I noticed her hair getting longer and longer, her apartment getting messier and messier, and her eccentricities grow. I just let her be because I knew that whatever I said I wouldn’t be able to change her mind; she was just too stubborn.
Several years passed, and she still stayed in her apartment. Every now and then I would suggest going for a walk, or a drive, or to visit a relative, but she always turned me down with the same excuse.
“How about we go out to Doraldo’s? That was always your favorite restaurant!”
“What? Do you want me to be overridden with germs, just trying to tear me apart?”
I eventually gave up asking her, and just went and kept her company. There was little else I could do.
After about nine years of this, my boss offered me a promotion, which would require me to spend more time at the office, and. in consequence, less time with Carmella. When I broke the news to her, she seemed devastated, so I offered to get her a dog to keep her company. She seemed overjoyed at the idea, and specifically requested a Saint Bernard. I sighed, but I realized with the extra money from the promotion, I could afford to get her a purebred.
I bought Carmella a house-trained kitten, and she loved having something there all the time. I was glad that she had something to keep her company, and I told her I would visit as much as I could, but it turned out I only really had time to visit twice a month, though I still brought her food (and now cat food) once a week.
At first it was refreshing to visit Carmella less often; my visits were always a little tense and more often than not ended with verbal fights between the two of us. We would mostly argue about the state of her apartment and how it got messier and messier every time I came. Every now and then I would give in and clean it, but then she would act offended and complain. I thought that getting her the kitten was a good idea, but the kitten just seemed to add to the mess. Every time I returned the reek of the kitten’s litter box wafted throughout the apartment and seemed to stick to the walls no matter how much I cleaned.
My visits with Carmella eventually reached the point where we were shouting at each other five minutes in. She would request something from the store, and I would reply sarcastically, causing her to snap back and so on. It seemed to be the same fight over and over again.
One afternoon I had just gotten off of work and was feeling tired, but decided I needed to stop by and see if Carmella needed anything. I had barely stepped through the door when the smell of the apartment hit me straight on. This caused me to make an unpleasant face, which seemed to spark Carmella off. I snapped back, and the fight escalated until I grabbed the closest object and threw it at her. Carmella ducked out of the way, as what I had grabbed made a strange yelping sound and kept flying through the open window. Carmella screeched and ran to the window, where I heard a similar screeching taking place on the street below. It seems that the cat I had inadvertently picked up had landed on an innocent man and was now using him as her personal cat-scratcher.
I ran downstairs to retrieve the poor cat, apologized profusely to the stunned man - who walked off muttering to himself - and then climbed back upstairs to bring the cat home. As I opened the door to Carmella’s apartment, she simultaneously snatched the cat out of my hands, and slammed the door in my face.
“Don’t you ever come back here again!” She screeched, leaving me standing dumbfounded outside her door.
That was the last I had seen of my sister, though I still left food outside her door several times a week and once a year I might telephone her to check in. I would always listen for sounds of life when I left the food, but that was the extent of my contact with her.
Several weeks ago I discovered that I was going to have to go to the hospital for some knee surgery, and that I would be unable to leave her food for a while. In a moment of panic, I called the police, thinking they would help me. I guess I was fed up with her as well, but I honestly couldn’t take care of her anymore. Hopefully they’ll put her in a nice home where she’ll have lots of people to look after her. I’m just glad that I don’t have to anymore.
So what do you all think? Is it interesting? Is there anything wrong/need to work on? Let me know, PLEASE!
Alright, I just wrote this for class. It's due tomorrow. Everyone in my section has to read it and tell me what they think.
Well, all I have to say is that it’s about time. I mean twenty-six years is a long time to never leave your apartment. Hell, I’m her brother and I haven’t seen her in ten years! I finally got fed up with her and called the police, I just couldn’t take care of her anymore. I’m sure she was violating several safety laws too; the last time I went into that place it was littered with newspaper scraps, old, rotting food, and cat-hair. Lord knows how it’s worsened over ten years.
I know that Carmella’s going to be angry with me, but I had to call the police, I just had to! It’s so unhealthy of her to stay cooped up in her apartment, never going out in the sun. I couldn’t go over there to bring her food anymore either, I have surgery coming up, and afterwards I’m not supposed to use my legs for several weeks.
I guess I should step back and explain. My name is Adam, and if you’ve been paying attention to the news, I’m sure you heard about the crazy lady who hasn’t left her house in twenty-six years. Yes, the one who locked herself away after being frightened by an influenza outbreak. Well, that would be my older sister, Carmella. She’s a bit eccentric, as I’m sure you guessed, but nobody expected her to become a recluse. I mean, I didn’t expect it, and I know her better than anybody.
Carmella had always been a little weird, even in childhood. She never really seemed to have an actual germ phobia, but she would always wash her hands several times in one sitting, usually around six or seven. She would do this multiple times a day as well, but we didn’t pay her much mind.
We were three years apart, but as we grew up we were inseparable, as cliché as that sounds. We never really had any other friends growing up, most of Carmella’s classmates tagged her as being weird, which made me her weird little brother. This resulted in us spending all of our time with each other, so it’s easy to say that we became really close.
Twenty-six years ago, there was an influenza breakout in our area, which coincided with a shortage of vaccination shots. I didn’t panic because I knew I was resilient, but Carmella apparently didn’t feel ad I did. She locked herself away in her apartment, only allowing me to come and go.
I actually didn’t know she had done it; I had just been working at my job, minding my own business. One day I realized I hadn’t seen her in a while and I decided to give her a call. Just as I reached to pick up the phone, it rang right underneath my hand.
“Hello, this is Adam” I answered.
“I know damn well who it is. This is your sister,” was the screechy reply on the other end.
“Carmella! I was just thinking about you.”
“I know, why do you think I called?”
Not bothering to reply in Carmella’s delusion that our minds were linked in some telepathic way, I changed the subject. “Where have you been? We haven’t talked in a while.”
“I’m just here in my room. You haven’t stopped by lately.”
“Well I thought I might have seen you around town, you know it is rather small.”
“Why would you see me around town? I’m not leaving my apartment with all those germs running amuck.”
“What germs?”
“You know what germs!” She screamed into the receiver so loud that I almost dropped my phone in surprise.
“You mean the influenza outbreak? Carmella, that was over weeks ago.”
“It’s never over! Germs are everywhere, and I’m not leaving my apartment to be a target for their armies anymore.”
“How are you going to survive holed up in there?”
“I have enough food to last me a while. I just slip the check for the rent and utilities under my door, and then call the landlord to come pick it up.”
“Carmella, you can’t live like that. You’re going to run out of money.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. Are you going to come visit me soon?”
I sighed. Carmella was known in our family for her quick chances of subject. Trying to argue with her was pointless, as has been proven time and time again. “Yes, I’ll come visit you. Do you need me to bring you anything?”
“Some fresh fruit would be nice.”
“Ok, I’ll bring you that, and how about I cook you Chicken Parmesan. I’m sure you haven’t had good Chicken Parmesan for a while, and I know how much you like it.”
“That sounds great! I’ll see you at four.”
I heard a click and sighed again as I put the phone back on it’s hook. I wondered how long she was going to insist that she can’t leave her apartment, but then thought better of it, and I headed out to the grocery store and then to her apartment complex.
Soon Carmella and I settled into a routine. I would visit her several times a week, bring over some fresh food, and sometimes make her dinner. I was her only contact with the outside world, I would bring her mail into her, and she would give me anything she needed to reach someone on the outside. As I went to her apartment week after week, I noticed her hair getting longer and longer, her apartment getting messier and messier, and her eccentricities grow. I just let her be because I knew that whatever I said I wouldn’t be able to change her mind; she was just too stubborn.
Several years passed, and she still stayed in her apartment. Every now and then I would suggest going for a walk, or a drive, or to visit a relative, but she always turned me down with the same excuse.
“How about we go out to Doraldo’s? That was always your favorite restaurant!”
“What? Do you want me to be overridden with germs, just trying to tear me apart?”
I eventually gave up asking her, and just went and kept her company. There was little else I could do.
After about nine years of this, my boss offered me a promotion, which would require me to spend more time at the office, and. in consequence, less time with Carmella. When I broke the news to her, she seemed devastated, so I offered to get her a dog to keep her company. She seemed overjoyed at the idea, and specifically requested a Saint Bernard. I sighed, but I realized with the extra money from the promotion, I could afford to get her a purebred.
I bought Carmella a house-trained kitten, and she loved having something there all the time. I was glad that she had something to keep her company, and I told her I would visit as much as I could, but it turned out I only really had time to visit twice a month, though I still brought her food (and now cat food) once a week.
At first it was refreshing to visit Carmella less often; my visits were always a little tense and more often than not ended with verbal fights between the two of us. We would mostly argue about the state of her apartment and how it got messier and messier every time I came. Every now and then I would give in and clean it, but then she would act offended and complain. I thought that getting her the kitten was a good idea, but the kitten just seemed to add to the mess. Every time I returned the reek of the kitten’s litter box wafted throughout the apartment and seemed to stick to the walls no matter how much I cleaned.
My visits with Carmella eventually reached the point where we were shouting at each other five minutes in. She would request something from the store, and I would reply sarcastically, causing her to snap back and so on. It seemed to be the same fight over and over again.
One afternoon I had just gotten off of work and was feeling tired, but decided I needed to stop by and see if Carmella needed anything. I had barely stepped through the door when the smell of the apartment hit me straight on. This caused me to make an unpleasant face, which seemed to spark Carmella off. I snapped back, and the fight escalated until I grabbed the closest object and threw it at her. Carmella ducked out of the way, as what I had grabbed made a strange yelping sound and kept flying through the open window. Carmella screeched and ran to the window, where I heard a similar screeching taking place on the street below. It seems that the cat I had inadvertently picked up had landed on an innocent man and was now using him as her personal cat-scratcher.
I ran downstairs to retrieve the poor cat, apologized profusely to the stunned man - who walked off muttering to himself - and then climbed back upstairs to bring the cat home. As I opened the door to Carmella’s apartment, she simultaneously snatched the cat out of my hands, and slammed the door in my face.
“Don’t you ever come back here again!” She screeched, leaving me standing dumbfounded outside her door.
That was the last I had seen of my sister, though I still left food outside her door several times a week and once a year I might telephone her to check in. I would always listen for sounds of life when I left the food, but that was the extent of my contact with her.
Several weeks ago I discovered that I was going to have to go to the hospital for some knee surgery, and that I would be unable to leave her food for a while. In a moment of panic, I called the police, thinking they would help me. I guess I was fed up with her as well, but I honestly couldn’t take care of her anymore. Hopefully they’ll put her in a nice home where she’ll have lots of people to look after her. I’m just glad that I don’t have to anymore.
So what do you all think? Is it interesting? Is there anything wrong/need to work on? Let me know, PLEASE!