So in case anyone was wondering why I have been pretty MIA recently,
I have been working on school... this to be exact.
It was suppose to be a short (no more then five pages) story.
I think it's okay. It's not brilliant but I am sure I'll have a passing grade, so I figured I would share with you wonderful people

My name is Sarah Marsh. When I was three my family lived in a rundown apartment building off of Main Street in Scary Creek WV. The building consisted of four apartments; two upstairs and two down. My family lived in one of the upstairs apartments. Living in one of the downstairs apartments was my Uncle James, Aunt Mary and my cousin Anna. In the other downstairs apartment lived a couple with no children. In the other apartment upstairs lived my Aunt Holly, Uncle Phil and their four kids.
I was four the summer I met Mr. Brown. My cousins were being mean and decided to go off to play in the nearby woods without me. I paced the yard and kicked at the fence. Feeling pretty sorry for myself I had the brilliant notion I would follow them and see what they were up to. Heading for the back gate, I decided to sneak out of the yard. I opened the big wooden gate and peeked out onto the path going toward the woods. I had never been through that gate without my cousins or an adult, so was feeling a little scared about getting caught. I put my foot out and stepped on through, slowly closing the gate for fear my mother would hear. Still facing the gate, I slowly backed up a few steps, that’s when I heard a chuckle.

I had forgotten that just a little off from the gate was a cottage. It seems the elderly man who lived there had seen me sneaking out the gate. He sat there smiling and playing with a big knife. My curiosity got the better of me so I walked up and asked him what he was doing. He patted the step beside him, pulled up a big metal bucket filled with wax and said, “Reach in that bucket an pull some out,” all the while he was cutting at the wax in his hand, “That wax an this knife is for whittlin’. Do you know what whittlin’ is lil girl?” I shook my head no. I was fascinated when I saw the shape the wax was becoming: a dog! The old man, who reminded me of my grandpa, held out the dog to me. I spent the morning with him and then ran back into the yard when I heard my mother call my name from an upstairs window. Thus began my summer of whittling classes.
I found out his name was Mr. Brown. “But you can call me Pap,” he informed me. So it was that I saw Pap every chance I got. Most of the time we’d just sit on the porch, Pap would whistle and occasionally would even break out into song. Sometimes he would tell me a story about his homeland, Ireland. I enjoyed hearing his tales. Sometimes when I went Mrs. Brown would be out in her garden, with Pap nowhere in sight. I’d sit there and talk to her. Or sit on the porch and listen to her talking. She was as talkative as Pap was quiet. After I had visited a few times with just her, she asked me, “Would you like to come in for some cookies fresh out of the oven?” I had never been inside their house and was curious, so I quickly got up and followed her into the small cabin.
In the living area there were shelves everywhere. On these shelves were what looked to be thousands of wax figures; everything from animals to people to boats. She said, “All these carvings were my husbands.” I recall her looking sad when she said it. At the time I thought she must not like him whittling so much. She then showed me pictures she had all around of her and her husband and all their vacations.
I sat out front playing with my dolls one day, because no one had answered my knock on the door, and it was fun till my mother walked up with a look on her face that told me I was gonna get it when I got home. Without saying a word, I followed my mother home. After much whining and begging on my part, my mother agreed to let me go back. I had promised not to go without telling her and to go no further than the little cabin.

After stepping through the gate, I could see Mr. Brown on the porch in his usual spot on the steps. He was working on a large piece of wax and concentrating very hard. He appeared to not see me so I stood in front of him, hopping from one foot to another, trying to get his attention. He eventually looked up, but he seemed to almost be looking right through me. After a minute or two, about the time I was going to turn around, he seemed to realize I was there. He held out the little carving knife he had been teaching me with and then began to whistle a little tune. I took the knife, picked up my wax and began work on creating a wax cat.

One day, my cousins decided I could go with them to their play place in the woods. Brimming with excitement I ran down the path into the woods with my cousins. I gave the small cabin only a passing glance. I had a wonderful time playing with my cousins. We had snacks, played with toys and told stories all afternoon. As we were getting ready to pack up, I heard whistling not far from our play area. I said, “That sounds like Pap!” My cousins looked at me funny, but I just took off running to the dirt path. As I reached the path that went by the cabin, my cousins caught up with me. By then the whistling had stopped. The woods were eerily lifeless. After checking in with my mother, I run back to the cabin. I wanted to see if I could take some wax home with me, but nobody appeared to be home. I heard my mother yell for me to come home, so gave it no more thought. I went back every day for the next week but no one was home.
My father was offered a job in another state. Very soon we were all packed. At that point in time, I had not seen Pap in nearly a month. I wanted to say goodbye to them before we left. So a slipped out the back gate and walked to Pap’s cabin. I knocked on the door, after a few minutes of no one answering I took a peek through the front window. The light was off and it looked disused, as if no one had been there for months. Just as I reached the back gate, I heard a crunch of a twig. I turned, thinking that maybe it was Pap. It wasn’t. But I did see someone walking down the path.
The stranger walked toward the cabin, not seeing me. I watched as he pull out some keys and walked into the cabin. Worried and wondering what was up, I walked back to the cabin. I called out, “Hey!” he turned to me, “Hey kid, whatdaya doin here?” I said, “I live in those apartments. Hey mister, where’d the people who live here go?” he looked at me funny and said, “Ain’t nobody here kid.” I kept asking him questions till finally he said, “Lookie here kid, ain’t no livin soul been inside this here house since Ole Mrs. Brown took ill a few months back, an went to the hospital. And Mr. Brown ain’t been here for five years, since they laid him by Scary Creek Baptist Church.”

Thinking over all the man had said, I walked out and sat on the step. I would have sat there all day trying to figure it out, but I heard my mom calling for me.That meant the van was packed and we were going to be leaving. I had to go, but as I walked away, I heard a familiar tune whistling through the trees.



yep. not gonna be a best seller or anything. but it fits what I had to do. lol.

Wow...

@mrb89: well i think its great

that bad huh? lol. XD

lmao. thanks. I kinda hit page limit or else I would have said more, but I edited it down as much as I could.... lmao.