lea, part one

'lea' is a fiction short story series, written by yours truly. Leave your thoughts in the comments~

Lea, a stupid five year old girl, happily hopped out of her school bus that day. After saying bye to her best friend, “Paulie”, she skipped into her house. She threw her backpack on the floor and screamed, “Dadda!” He put down his newspapers, and as she ran to hug him, he kneeled onto his knee, so Lea could reach him. She was an abnormally happy girl, always elated. Well, most of the time, anyways. You could call her stupid. She never saw the flaws in anybody (except herself). She hopped on one leg into the kitchen, as if playing hopscotch, and when she saw her mom, she crept up behind her, and clung on to her leg. “Mimzy!” Her mother walked around the kitchen, and Lea did not let go. “I’m a happy girl!”

“Red’s going to come out again, Dave,” her mother said. Her father just nodded and picked up his legal pad, and wrote, in messy writing. Then finally, when her mother hugged her back, Lea took her backpack from across the hall, and pranced into her room saying, “I’m a happy girl!” She put her pack down, and flopped onto her bed. “I’m happy girl,” she whispered, this time pondering over what ‘happy’ meant to her. “I’m a happy girl,” she said, this time angrier. She took her wall crayon, ‘Paulie’ and repeated “I’m a happy girl,” until she was screaming to herself. Her favorite wall crayon, Paulie, was red. Red like her feelings. Angry. Always trying to hide. She picked up Paulie and stabbed it against her black wall. Like her, her room was very unique. One wall was black, to draw on, another wall was a pastel yellow, to sleep against, and the other two walls were peach, a calming color. From the start, Lea had always found drawing therapeutic, and her parents could tell a lot from the smallest drawings on her black wall. When Lea had her little tantrums, her parents never came in her room. They knew better. Instead, they would peak in at night, read the drawings on her wall, and replace the broken ‘Paulie.’ After she stabbed Paulie numerous times on the wall, she started to calm down, and drew beautiful pictures of her Red feelings, at least for a stupid five year old girl. Red would come out almost once a week, twice a week, but never everyday. And I was the only one who knew about it except her parents, and Paulie, whose real name was actually Paul.

That night, her parents crept into her room, and found something peculiar on the wall. Them. They were in a car, and then Red took over her parents, too. This black wall of hers illustrates her worst fears, as well. And when they took Lea to the doctor’s, Lea always hated the doctors, her parents would tell them, and that had always made Lea even more uncomfortable than she already was. Not uncomfortable, scared. She was afraid that Red would take her over some day. She was afraid that she would be separated from her parents, whom she loved dearly. She was afraid that Paulie would think she was weird and leave their friendship for good. But this night was different because today, she managed to get a full six and a half hours of sleep. Which was a lot for Lea Ivywood.


    Ten years passed and Red was getting harder and harder to control. Sometimes during her classes she would have to go into the janitor’s closet, and Paul would come and get her up and going to class. Lea, a stupid fifteen year old girl, hopped out of her school bus that summer afternoon. She ran towards her house, when she saw that Crime Scene tapes were surrounding it. Lea didn’t see a fire, or anything peculiar about the whole situation. No broken windows, no theft. Nothing could have possibly gone wrong. Then she saw what would scar her for her life’s time. A single gun lay on the grass, her parents, a bloody mess, carried into an ambulance.  She threw her pack down on the middle of her driveway, and sat down on her ankles. Of course, it was no surprise to me. “I’m a happy girl,” she said, crying her heart out. A police man saw her.

    “Are you Ms. Ivywood?” he asked, ignoring her emotional state. She was choking on her tears, so she just nodded. “Please, come to the hospital, with us.” As she started to get up, she saw out of the corner of her eye, Paul running up to her drive way. He gave her his hand up, although Lea did not even look his way.

    “Can he come too?” she asked the policeman, “he’s like my brother.” The police man just nodded, and he gave them a choice between the ambulance and the police car. They chose the police car. Paul looked very disturbed, although he had seen Red many times in his life. Lea wouldn’t even look at him. She just held her head in her hands, and occasionally let out a scream or two.

    “Tell Red, NO.” Lea pretended like she didn’t hear, but every few seconds after that, she would repeat his words, and slowly it got better. The policeman stopped the car outside the hospital, and opened the door for them to get out. Lea opened her door and went towards the hospital wing, her face pale and flushed with silent tears. No one could manage to talk to her. Not the hospital staff, or the police. Not even Paul. The hospital staff and the police slapped the reports into Paul’s hand. “Do you know who did this?” asked Paul. The police just shook his head. “Do you know who did this?” screamed Paul.

“Look, kid, we’re trying to get a hold of this person,” the police said.

“Well, obviously you’re not if you’re just standing here,” Paul shouted. The police held his hand up for silence. He pointed at me.

“You,” he said, looking at me, “who are you?”

“I’m Fredrik. Lea’s uncle.” I said. “It’s a shame what happened. Dave was my favorite brother,” forcing fake tears onto my face. “I-” I was interrupted by the policeman.Lea looked up from her hands, and started to shout.

“IT WAS YOU!” she shouted at me. Paul walked towards her and tried to sit her down.

“You know how it is,” Paul said to me. I smiled and added an appreciative nod. Lea tried to control herself, but I knew, I knew she couldn’t. Like Dave. Dave couldn’t control being the best at everything. Of course he couldn’t. It was a gift. A gift that I took. And I have no regrets.


  1. Woahhh!! This story was so good! It was really unique and we don't see a lot of that, but I couldn't stop reading! All that mystery and her anger. The writing was also really well-written, so I could follow along easily. Keep it up! I can't wait for part 2 ;)

    The Life of Little Me

    1. Why, thank you. That really means a lot to me~

  2. Woooonderrrrfulllllll!
    I loved it!


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