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Western Carolinian Volume 60 Number 16

items 14 of 24 items
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Item’s are ‘child’ level descriptions to ‘parent’ objects, (e.g. one page of a whole book).

  • Ventilated Voice Review of the W&stz&jrxi you. Maybe, if I call Daddy... no. Daddy was real tired at dinner tonight. He ' s been- looking for a job. I know, because he said that he wasn't working because the Mexicans were taking all his jobs away. (I know where Mexico is. It's the bright yellow country below America.) He said that we might move, and I thought he meant to Mexico, and I cried that I didn't want to leave my friends. Daddy said we couldn't afford to live in Flint, anymore. I cried louder, and Daddy sent me to my room. It's three- seventeen, and the monster calms down. I lean back, and try and go to sleep. My white curtain is blowing back and forth, so I get up and close my window. At first I thought it was a ghost, but I know that there's no such thing. I get back into bed, and know that something's not right. I look over at the closet. It's quiet, now. Maybe he' s trying to make me think he's gone. I turn on the light -- the closet door is open! "Daddeeeeee!!!' * • * BANG! Well, I was wrong. This is two days in a row! It's one- twelve and the monster's back again. I thought when I couldn't find my Glitter-Star Barbie this morning didn't come. So, I told everybody that he was an astronaut on the Space Shuttle, and that's why he wasn't there. Everybody loved me! I got home and got a spanking for lying to my teacher, though. And, Daddy had to go bowling tonight, and I know that he gets really cranky and tired "I turn on the light - the closet door is open! 'Daddeeeeee!!!'" that he probably thought that he ate ME. I was so happy that the monster was gone that didn't even care about Barbie. Besides, I can always borrow Suzie's. Daddy can't afford to get me a new one. Maybe I can ask Santa. I put Raggedy Ann in the closet for him to eat. Maybe, this time-he'11 really think it was me. I don't play with her anymore. She's a baby's doll. I put all the rest of my toys in my quilt trunk. But, the monster's back and Daddy's real mad at me. Yesterday was Career Day, and Daddy after bowling. And, he still doesn't believe in the monster and got mad when I called him last night. What am I supposed to do? SLAM! I can't sleep here. And I can't call Daddy. slam. I grab my Blankey and creep past the closet. I open my bedroom door. THUMP! I hurry into the hall and close my door behind me. I look at Daddy's open door. That's one good thing about the new house. When I got scared at the trailer, I had to walk all the way to the other side. I always felt trapped in the kitchen. Like, if two things were after me, I couldn't go anywhere . Now, I just can run across the hall. I walk into the room and slide under the covers, but something's not right. "Mommy? Where's Daddy?" She turns around, and I can see her face from the light outside. She looks like she's been crying. "Shhh." She combs my hair with her fingers. I like it when she does that. "He's staying at a friend's tonight." I put my right thumb in my mouth (it tastes better than the other one) and look around the room. I know why Daddy slept some other place: The monster's not after me, it's after him. I guess the monster's mad that Daddy doesn't believe. Daddy's empty hangers are still rocking back and forth in his closet. It's like the monster ate all his clothes. It must have been in here tonight, not in my closet. He's gone away to make sure that the monster doesn't get me or Mommy. I love my Daddy. I know now that the monster's gone, so I close my eyes and fall asleep — in my Mommy's bed. The Wis a Literary.review for now, but who knows, if we receive photographs, drawings, etc.,we might just decide to include them. Also: the winner at the end of the semester for the best poem, story, picture, etc. wilt receive something cool. We are so new we can't decide. Please send weekly submissions to: Ventilated Voice, P.O. Box 66, Cullowhee, NC 28723. We hope to hear from you soon! 1/19/95 page 4
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).