Creative Writing: Anella's Home

“AHHHHH!”, I hear echoing around the garage walls. My heart starts beating frantically as I turn around to see who just screamed bloody murder. In no time, I see the garage door closing in on little Nella’s five-year-old body. My forehead breaks out into perspiration and my brain floods with a million outcomes while I am hoping the only one that comes true is that she is safe. Before I watch what will happen, let me explain. Not even ten minutes ago, Anella (5), Leo (7), and I were at our neighborhood park swinging on swings, sliding down slides, and playing tag before Leo had to leave for ninja. On the afternoons I watch my neighbors after school, they usually want to drive their green jeep-resembling battery operated car. Most times the battery

This afternoon tells a different story as I am panically trying to comprehend how Nella managed to wedge her shoe into the slim crevice separating the paved driveway from the cement garage. The contents of the garage are jumbled randomly prohibiting me from quickly reaching Nella before the door bangs closed. Leo has entered inside the house to eat dinner before leaving and I am questioning where their father is, who usually works in his office while I attend to the children. The thing I am certain of is that I cannot watch my young neighbor, who I have watched grow up for two years, be crushed by a metal door. I immediately stop shoving the car into the back and as successfully as possible try to work my way through the maze of garage contents scrambled about including: scooters, bicycles, chalk, gardening tools, and toy balls. In my mind, time is moving as slow as a sloth on a branch; while in reality, the clock is ticking rapidly. Fortunately, the broken wheel is bent in, so the heavy weight of the door itself forbids the door to close briskly. Maybe two minutes have passed, but it feels like an eternity. I cannot waste anymore time standing in shock as I must instruct Nella what to

Above the creaking of the door, I raise my voice to hopefully teach Nella how to be free of her shoe. In the midst of my directing, a twinkling jingle sounds from nearby and I feel a small pair of feet on my left shoulder. Since I do not want to waste any time from retrieving Nella, I pay no attention to whatever has just landed upon my shoulder. Proudly, I notice Nella has gotten the bow untied from her shoe; however, she still must loosen the remaining laces in order to successfully remove her foot. On the inside of the garage, I am being confronted by what seems like a little fairy, from where I do not know until he starts