Silent Fall

CREEEEEEEK went the door as it was carefully being shut. My eyelids were heavy, too heavy to lift open and see who had just been in my room. It was early, too early to wake up. It was cold, too cold to leave the comforting warmth of my bed. My eyes shot open, curiosity getting the best of them. My feet stepped onto the scratchy carpet. One step at a time a came closer to the door that had just shut. My hand was stiff as it met the doorknob. "Jonathan!" I yelled.

He was two and I was four. Fights like this were bound to happen every now and then. "Give it back!" He was a fast runner. "Nooooo! It's mine!" he shrieked. He dashed down the stairs. Of all things to take, why a sleeping bag? My eyes focused in on the bag, then his eyes. They were fearful, but that fear must have left quickly because he was off to running again.

SLAM the door went to my face. Furiously I pried open the door and tiptoed on in. Goosebumps covers my skin as I stepped into this room. It was quiet, but not quite empty. Their muffled breathing filled the room with soft ocean-like sounds. My parents were asleep.

It was too late to turn back now. My feet crept sneakily into the bathroom where my head thought my brother would be. My eyes scanned the room, only to find... nothing. His small body could fit almost anywhere, so it was a wonder I found him at all. He sat in the far left corner of their closet buried in the previously neatly folded clothes. In the other corner sat the sleeping bag, wrinkled up but hidden by nothing.

I snatched it away before he said anything, and left in what I thought was the blink of an eye. It turned out I wasn't moving as fast as I thought. He had grabbed hold of the other end. RIPPP! The zipper flew across the room into the sink and down the drain. CRASH-BOOM-THUD! That last tug of his won him the sleeping bag but sent him flying.

Everything came to a dead silence. My mind replayed the fall, over and over again. I was speechless. "What's going on in there?" mumbled my mom just now waking up. With no reply she raised her voice "What's going on?" Still no answer. The sound was coming back now. My mom's footsteps were booming in my head. She ran to his side and cleaned him up. On the floor he was wailing. It never seemed to stop. There was a large slash down his chin where he had hit the corner of the counter.

I pulled out the nicest band-aid I could find and gently placed it on his cut. It was my favorite kind too, covered with Sponge Bob and his pineapple house. He pushed me away still angry. It was my sleeping bag, I thought as I slowly walked away.