The vicious gusts of wind picked up by massive heaps at a time as my kindergarten brother and I gathered our scattered belongings from the heavily soaked sidewalk along a lonely and gloomy College Manor Drive.
Fighting and pushing our way through the howling air moving at unsafe speeds, I was worried that my brother, the only person in the entire world who stuck to me at all times, would get swept away and disappear forever. There was no way whatsoever that I could afford that, as my passive parents didn’t mind their children getting beaten by the aggravated weather on their journey home from the treacherous building of brain torture that some call the school.
Either way, I had to prioritize out of my choices: camp at the mystical and untrustworthy forest nearby or continue creeping ever so slowly down the eerily peaceful neighborhoods of Newmarket. I wouldn’t be able to feed myself and my brother and save our starving stomachs from depriving life out of us, so we had to keep going.
All of a sudden, I heard a low, deep grunt and sensed something was wrong. I looked at my hand- something was missing. Then it hit me- my ice-cold palms lacked the soft skin of my kinder brother. My tears were being pushed backwards by the ugly tornado and those that stayed on the front of my face froze before the storm could reach them.
Without the loving support of my only real family member to keep my company anymore, I allowed my body to retreat from all the suffers and chaos that society has caused.
I wanted to join my brother. I couldn’t let him be held astray from me for too long; he would cripple under the pressure of life itself, as an example of this was set out right before my eyes. The only person who cared about me – the only person I had ever cared about, had ceased.
The writer is an 8th-grade student and lives in Newmarket, Canada.