No-one Important

My name is Hope Beckett, though why my mother called me that I have no idea. I live in a normal house with my sister, my brother and my parents. And with my cat Dave, but he's in and out the house so much that you wouldn't think it. I swear one of the neighbours has started feeding him, 'cause he's getting fat.

My brother is the perfect child, according to my parents. He gets amazing grades, is captain of nearly every sports team the school offers and has a ton of friends. He has a billion watt smile that always seems to win my parents over, no mater how bad it is, so that even at eighteen he still gets everything he wants. My parents can't ever see that he gets all his good grades through cheating and beating homework's out of the nerds. They can't see that he bribed his way onto the teams, and that half their money goes into keeping him their so he can get all the girls. They don't see the mess that all his so-called friends leave behind after another one of his parties, another girl he's done a one-night-stand with. He just smiles his smile and he's James, their perfect son all over again.

My sister Annie is a year younger than James and two years older than me. She sees our brother for who he really is too. Every time he has a party, the two of us sneak up onto the roof and play guess-how-may-pints-they've-had on the guests. We know the drinking limits of nearly every teenager in town. We giggle and laugh as we watch them drunkenly sway to the pounding music, occasionally collapsing into the pool to much raucous laughter. I tell you, we could have the entire school at our feet the secrets we have seen from our little rooftop hideout.

It's not so fun in the morning. Our brother stays in his room all day nursing his hangover while our parents make us clean up the house. According to them, if us kids want to throw a party then we need to have the responsibility to clean up after ourselves, even though we tell them that we spent the whole night up on the roof. That doesn't matter to them though. As long as James is fine, they don't care what happens to us.

Once, a new girl came to the school. It took James less than a week to snare her and by the weekend she had wandered into our home. The first time I met her, I wandered in on her sat in my living room, watching my TV, eating my Jaffa Cakes. Of all the things in the house, Jaffa Cakes was one of the few bought especially for me. And she was eating them.

The girl turned and saw me. She scowled.

"Who the hell are you?"

"What? I'm Hope. Do you know where James is?" I needed to remind him that my bedroom was not just another place to go for a quick shag. Again.

"Are you sure you don't know. Cause I bet I know where he's been. In your pants! You're his girlfriend aren't you! Well you won't be for much longer you wh**e! James is mine!"

I stood there shocked.

"I'm not... I... James is my brother..."

"Oh really. Then how come I've never heard of you. James has never mentioned having a sister and no-one at school talks about you. Don't you lie to me b***h!"

"Hey babe, got you the diet coke you wanted!" James. Fantastic.

"Hey BABE, would you care to explain to me who this is? Is this your girlfriend or something?" The girl said angrily. James glanced at me for about half a second, then laughed.

"Her? No way! Trust me babe, she's not my 'girlfriend'."

"Then who is she?"

He smirked at me. "No-one important." He turned back to the stranger in my house. "Now how about we return to more serious matters..." He suggested, making me feel physically sick. This is where I take my leave.

Once I was in my room, I thought about what he had said. Was that what I was to him; nobody important? Just another being in the house, another face in the scenery. How could someone think of a member of their own family like that? Mind you, my parents managed fine. Anger filled me as I thought of them, of how unfair it all was. Hot tears of rage slipped from the corners of my eyes, as I cried over all the lost hugs and forgotten kisses, all the toys that had never arrived, all the love that had been given to James and James alone.

That was how Annie found me, an hour later, curled up on my bed, tear tracks lining my cheeks. She didn't have to ask to know what was wrong, she simply pulled me into a hug. Annie was the only one that cared, my sister and my mother, my best friend and my shelter when all was lost. I could always count on my sister.

"Not long now sis." She whispered in my ear. " A few more years and we'll both be out of here, and we won't ever look back. They can have James. You and me, we've got each other, and that's the only family we need." Oh how I hope that these years would pass sooner, and that we could be free now, to do whatever we liked.

How I hoped I had parents who noticed when I came home with an A or parents who were concerned when I went on dates. How I wished I had a brother who would actually tell his friends that I existed, a brother that would tell boys they were dead if they hurt me. How I dreamed for a family that loved me, just a little.

My one dream is that after graduation, I will come home and my parents will say to me: "Well done Hope. Well done". And they will smile and be proud of me. They'll love me.

But that is not my reality. My reality is that the only true family I have is Annie. And that to the others, I am just like a little cat, that comes and goes as it pleases, is useful for looking cute, or getting rid of mice, and occasionally needs taking to the vets. An ornament on the shelf. A pretty picture on the wall.

No-one important.

But I can always hope.

There are two themes for this short story- can anyone guess what they are? Go on, guess, you could be right! 

Just Imagine...

I am sailing on a wild ocean, the ships, mast creaking in the strong wind. Below me, deep sapphire waves crash against the wooden vessel, yet I do not feel fear. I fear nothing. The wind may be strong, but the mast is stronger. The waves may be ferocious, but my ship is sturdy.  I laugh as the boat ploughs for the shining blue and silver waves, the spray sprinkling gently onto my face.

Behind me, the enemy ship slowly sinks into the depths, it's crew floundering helplessly in the icy sea. I almost feel sorry for them, but then I remember that I am a pirate, and pirates do not feel sorry for the enemy! Just as we fly over another mountainous wave, my fellow pirates now laughing with their captain, we-

"Mr Abbot! Could please return your attention to the lesson please!" Mrs Carmicheal stalked back to the front of the classroom, leaping straight back into her lecture on osmosis. Osmosis. In my mind's eye, I watched her slowly diffuse away like the particles she was trying to describe, and in her place the fire-breathing, blood thirsty monster that she really was stood. She roared at the class to pay attention, or she would skin our eyeballs and roast our kidney's to eat along with our ears. But of course, my trusty crossbow and I soon sorted her out.

I smirked as the teacher continued to blabber on at the group of teenagers about proteins and particles. Oh, the powers of the imagination.

Duck

Penny was eating duck. Crispy Peking Duck, from the Chinese just around the corner. Her mum had run out to get it a few minutes ago, but it had still only got to her at nine. It wasn't very good, but Penny was so hungry that she was wolfing it down.

"You'll get indigestion" warned her sister, Meg. Penny looked up at her older sister, but there was no sign of her eyes moving away from their small  TV, which was showing a rather fuzzy X Factor. She laughed at the man on the screen, who was murdering ...Baby One More Time. "Don't you just love the auditions?"

Personally Penny preferred the live shows. It was then when you saw the real talent, and not just a load of attention seekers who were tone deaf. Penny finished her duck and brushed the last crumbs off her lap. Their house was full of clutter; magazines, left over food, empty bottles. She scanned the living room and found her make-up bag. She began the long process of re-doing her make up, applying some foundation here, a little lip gloss there.

Meg looked up at her. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, me and Chrissie are going to the club downtown." she replied."I heard that Oscar's going to be there!" Oscar was the one. Penny was sure of it. She just needed him to work it out and it would be all good.

"Well are you going to tell mum?" Damn it. Penny had hoped her parents wouldn't notice. But that wouldn't be a problem if Megan ratted her out.

"Wait, Meg don't..." Too late. Her older sister had leapt up and ran out the room to find their mother. The TV screen flickered as Dermot O'Leary congratulated an exceptionally good performer. But Penny wasn't even looking at their tiny TV set as their mother was pushed into the room by Meg.

"I think Penny's going out tonight. Had she told you? What are you going to do about it?" Meg's voice was strong and demanding, but at the same time quiet and soft, like she was talking to a small child. And in a way their mother wasn't much better.

" Oh it's okay Pen, you can go out if you want. What does it matter to me?" Meg let out a sigh of desperation, but their mother spoke in the same depressed tone as always. It was very likely that she really didn't care.

The doorbell rang. Penny could see her best friend Christina stood outside, looking amazing as usual. She grabbed her coat.

"Ooh, I'll go tell your father you're going out."

"No, mum, you don't have to..." Meg began but their mother had already left. Penny darted out into the hall and through the front door, hoping to escape the fireworks. When she looked back she saw Meg give her look of disappointment and Penny hated herself for leaving her sister behind.

"Let's get out of here" she said to Christina as soon as she was on the drive. Penny knew Christina was always nervous when she came to this neighbourhood. Behind her the shouting had begun; loud but incoherent . A bottle flew through the open door before Penny had time to close it and smashed above her head. She brushed the glass out of her hair and quietly closed the door. That was the thing when your mother suffered from depression and your father was always drunk. You had to know when to duck. 

The Dreamstealer

This is my first post, and my first short story. Please leave comments to show me what you think and to tell me if there was anything you think could be better.

I didn't dream last night. Or the night before. Or the one before that. Now for most people, that's not a worry, they just get up in the morning and hurry on with their lives. But not me. I lie there in bed staring at the ceiling wondering why everything has changed. Because you see, I used to dream a lot, every night in fact. I would have all sorts of odd dreams with everything from purple pen monsters to failing exams. They were the most weird and wonderful dreams about things that the ordinary person cannot even imagine. And now they're gone. And I think it might have something to do with the last dream I ever had.

I was walking down a long corridor. I knew there was danger just through the door at the end, but for reasons unknown I could not turn around. I just kept walking down the corridor with its cold dank walls and that smell, the smell that always reminds you of death. I was moving unwillingly, desperately trying to turn around but my feet somehow put themselves in front of each other as I was pulled closer to the dark metal door at the end, the door behind which there was doom, death and destruction.

And suddenly I was there.

The door creaked open all by itself and I crept through, my eyes closed so that I wouldn't have to see the room at the end of all things. What came was worse than any sight that can be seen by human eyes. A pair of ice cold hands grabbed my throat, their grip as strong as iron. I opened my eyes in shock but only saw a blur of grey stone and metal, bright white lights and deep black shadows, as I was thrown across the room. I landed hard in a cold metal chair, a bit like the one at the dentist's, only this was much scary than any filling I'd ever had. Bands of hard cold steel wrapped themselves around me and I just sat there trying to breath.

I found myself in a room full of metal instruments, the purpose of which I had no idea. The walls were made of a smooth dark grey stone that was dripping cold fetid water and smelled of mould. I could hear something moving around out of sight, in one of the shadows. Everything was black and white, like I had fallen into an old horror movie. My heart was racing with fear and I was breathing hard. But the scariest part was the pain. I thought dreams weren't supposed to hurt? Yet I hurt so much, the pain in my back from hitting the chair and the steel bands were tight, digging into me. The pain made it feel real. It made it impossible.

The thing in the corner moved. To my surprise, a man stood up and walked over to me. He wore a black lab coat and had dark hair but very pale white skin, black on white again. He looked almost normal, nearly safe. But something wasn't right. He didn't seem... human.

"Don't worry child, you're only here to help me with a little task, and then you can go" he said. His voice was reassuring but I was even more scared. What was this mysterious task? I had a horrible feeling it wasn't going to be fun.

Then my world was filled with light. Not the good warm light that reminds you of bonfires and sunny summers. It was the cold harsh light that everyone sees at some time in their life. Just before they die. The room, the smell, even the pain vanished. All that was left was the blinding light that I couldn't blink away and his cold sinister voice.

"You see I cannot survive on the solid diet you humans crave. I eat something a little more... interesting." Then it began. The horrible, heart wrenching pain. If I could have screamed I would have.  It felt like a part of me was being ripped away. Being eaten. The last thing I heard was a whisper, but it was all around me.

"And you're such a good dreamer..."

And then I woke up. Now I look back it's not really that scary. It was only a dream. And what can a dream do to me?

But I didn't dream last night.