The Year To Come (Creative Story)

Lexi Knight, Author

-Note: there will be multiple publishes that will come out and connect, so read my stories in order as they come out (as if they were chapters at a time), get comfy, and enjoy! 🙂

{THE ~ YEAR ~ TO ~ COME}
Written by: Lexi M Knight

INTRODUCTION
-|aesthetic of megan tucker|-

Megan Tucker. A girl who lives off of motivation, motivation that one day she can have the venturous life she desperately dreams of. A girl who will have a rescue dog named Bandit, a girl who will have best friends who will hike with her, best friends that will go on bike rides to nowhere with her. A girl who smiles every day and wakes up to the sunrise. But before that, she is the girl who has to fake that she is that girl at school. To her, it feels as though she is living the same day over and over and dreads the fact of it. With being so extroverted at school she is still the family member never noticed by her family, the one that no one is close to and quite often her dad barely takes notice of her.

As she bats her eyes open at the sound of her chronicle alarm like habit, she’s welcomed to the same bedroom like always with the same settling smell in the same dusky grey apartment complex that sits in the same neutral boring small town. Not the welcome she longs for. The welcome she’s tired of. Waking up with a sigh instead of a yawn, disappointed she didn’t magically wake up in the world she’d prefer, she turns over and reads the clock… 7:51 am.

“What?” she grunts.

She rubs her eyes, hoping her eyes are deceiving her. But after checking again her heart fills with panic, the color spilling from her face.

She checks again, 7:52 am. How is that even possible? Her alarm wakes her up at 5:30, yet thats not what the clock shows. 7:52?!

“Urggh” She grunts as she leans back, her head bent and her arms resting on her forehead. She lets out a deep sigh once more
Megan takes her time as she gets out of bed. She’s already running late. Walking straight out her door, into the hallway she flicks the light on. You can tell the light is running low on “juice” hardly producing light. She reaches the bathroom. Flicking the light switch on, it flicks once or twice, then casts a yellow ray of light in her bathroom. Bending over the sink staring in the mirror, a girl is reflected who obviously didn’t get her proper eight hours of sleep. She inspects her eyes inches away from the mirror and brushes eye crusts out from the corners. She tests her breath too, she huffs her smelly breath on her hand and sniffs. She shrugs,

“Eh, good enough”

She walks past her toothbrush and backs out into the hallway.

She turns back into her bedroom doorframe to grab her backpack and throws it over her shoulder. Pulling both her arms through she starts into her tannish grey, obviously outdated, kitchen for a small breakfast. Still in the dark, she bends down to the cabinet, creaks it ajar, and quickly grabs a granola bar. Getting back up she accidentally knocks her dad’s truck keys off the counter. She grabs them off the unswept tile floor and puts them back on the counter as you would. Just about out the door, it clicks. Why would her dad’s car keys still be there at 8 o’clock in the morning?

She runs to his bedroom door, worried he might be manic when he wakes up, knowing he’s late. Building up the courage, second-guessing if she should bother him she goes for it anyway. Her hand is already on the doorknob. What’s the worse that could happen? Maybe a slap? It’s only a slap. Finally, she cautiously pushes it open, with no lights on she squints trying to see if he’s in bed or not. Moments later after still squinting she jumps from fright.

“Turn the hallway light off, Megan.” He groans.

“Okay dad,” she says flatly. Shutting the door behind her and then turning the light off she heads to the front door again. Until something in her head tells her to go back to her dad, Tony’s, room. She tiptoes back and opens the door just a smudge to get a few words in.

“Shouldn’t you be at work, Dad?”
“What day is it?” He asks without a care.
“Wednesday, Dad. You went to work yesterday,”
“Well, I’m just sleeping in,” He excuses.
“Alright,” She irritatedly whispered and finally leaves.

As she walks to school her crumby- as usual- morning stress automatically drifts away as the brown and orange leaves fill her with glee, the crunch of the warm-colored leaves surfacing the ground makes her feel like she is in wonderland. Until a honk from an oncoming bus snaps her back to reality, which makes her doubt if her actual reality will ever feel like a wonderland. She slumps at the thought. Instead, her dad doesn’t even realize if her daughter is at school safely or skipping class, if she made it home on time, or if they’re running out of food, because all he does is sit in his burgundy brown reclining chair, eat chips and watch cable TV until the sunsets. She wants to give effort still, she is still mature, she is still smart enough to have the mentality that if she gives up, there’ll never be hope for the future she desires.

She straightens her back, looks forward confidently like she is heading to school from a perfectly warm-feeling home, and fakes it as though she is this ray of goofy personality who gets hugs and kisses when she gets home. As if she is welcomed through the front doors with,“How was school today, Sweetie?” So, that at least she isn’t the girl who sits in the back of the class in the shadows and doesn’t socialize to anyone, at least she isn’t her.

In turn, this makes her find ways to occupy herself, getting creative with things to do with the little she has. She has a computer and a dream of what she wishes she has and uses that for good. She uses that to write stories, to make her forget that she’s in apartment #7 on the edge of Keene Town in Vermont. To make her imagination a reality just for an hour or two after her weekdays of boring routine; going to school, coming back home, eat, doing homework, chores, and then dreading to wake up the next morning, knowing that the same thing will come the next day.

So, since she writes to unhinge from her daily hassle, she imagined a character. A girl named Destiny Lloyd. A girl she wishes she could be.