Category : Stories

Sub Category : Drama

   It was cold that night as they drove down Meadow Lane like they had many times before. A fresh snow blanketed the ground. She always loved this street. Big Victorian houses lined up in neat little rows. Old Oaks that offered shade in the summer are now bare branches, holding a thin line of snow. The houses were lit with the glow of Christmas lights. 


   The smoke wafting from the chimneys as families gathered around the dinner table reliving stories from their day. She would stare out the window imagining how life would be to live in a house like that, on a street like that. She was sure it was better than the life she had now. 


   Passing the last house before they pulled on to the main road, she was startled by what she saw through the window. 


   The glow of the warm light lit up the scene. A man, gazing out the window crying. "How could anyone be so sad in a beautiful home like that?" She thought. 


   They drove off and went about their evening. A few days later, driving down the same street. The sun was out, however it was hidden by the clouds in the sky. She looked up out of the window imagining a different life than she already had. Longing for a family who loved her and was always home to tuck her in at night. She thought about the man in the window she saw the other night, and wondered if his day was any better. When all of a sudden, she heard people arguing, she sat up to get a better look. 


   Up the street a bit, a man and woman were on their front porch. The lady was clearly upset, her wrinkled forehead and furrowed brow made it clear. The man was yelling down at her, then stormed off in his car. The lady went inside slamming the door behind her. 


   They kept driving, a few more houses up she spied a little girl who looked to be the same age. She had short blonde hair and wore black rimmed glasses. She sat on her snowy grass making little snowballs. As we got closer I could see that she looked sad and lonely out there all by herself. 


   Later that night, they were on their way home, her dad turned off the main road and headed down her favorite street. The smell of the wood burning up through the chimneys filled the crisp cold air. It was snowing, which made everything seem so magical. The twinkling lights that hung on the houses reminded her of a Thomas Kincaid painting she saw years ago at a friend's house. 


   Her imagination set sail and she could almost smell the pot roast from one house, oh and an apple pie baking in the other. She envisioned families gathered around the piano singing Christmas carols before they headed off to bed. 


   As they approached the end of the street she was startled by a loud bang. Her ears were ringing, and she felt a lump in her throat trying to hold back tears. Her father stopped their little clunker of a car and looked in the backseat to make sure the little girl was ok, then over to her mom who had her hand on her chest. She sat there wide eyed staring back at her father. 


  "No, no, no! Stay with me honey," her father pleaded. Still her mother said nothing. Her world began to spin, she looked out of the window to see that same man who was crying the other evening holding a gun, on the grass was the little girl with the black framed glasses, blood pooled next to her as she laid there lifeless. The woman who had fought with the man earlier that day was sprawled in her doorway. The man was waving the gun and crying. 


   Her father pressed on the gas and sped away. Her mom lay there peacefully, blood pouring out of her like a faucet and she whispered one last thing, "I love you, take care of our baby."


   The little girl screamed, and cried. Her mother was gone. 




   Years later, her and her father picked up the pieces and moved away. She still thinks about those beautiful picture perfect homes and now knows, the grass isn't always greener elsewhere...sometimes what you have, and who you have, no matter how small, is better than the dream.