What Is A Trauma's Short Story: The Haunted House

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On the bus to the orphanage, Aviva examined the town outside her window. The scene in the skirts of Monterrey, Mexico was a far cry from life 1,965 miles away, in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. The houses were tightly packed side by side. Each house was a shabby single story. The grass was dense and overgrown and many of the windows and doors were missing, replaced by only a bedsheet or occasionally a sturdier curtain. Dogs, cats, and chickens that were visibly deprived of food roamed the streets with trash and litter at their heels. The bus hit a bump, which brought Aviva to the awareness that she was gazing out the window, so she focused her attention back onto Anne of Green Gables. Aviva felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked over to Miriam, …show more content…

They are just happy that you are here to play with them!” Katie added. “Have fun!” Javier whipped out a copper colored key and unlocked the gate. Everyone shuffled into the property and curiously gandered at their surroundings. The orphanage itself was a pasty yellow; it stretched both tall and wide. A wall of at least ten feet in height, which was the same pasty yellow as the building, encompassed the orphanage and space around it. The black fence was built into the wall but was much more sizable. Two large goal posts sat at either end of a soccer field to the bottom left corner of the building. The field was concrete of the same pasty yellow. The only items within sight that were not pasty yellow were two wooden picnic tables as well as a set of fire engine- red, metal swings and a green, metal slide. There was also a brick-red shed labeled, “Los Juguetes.” A short, stout lady approached Javier and said something to him in Spanish. Aviva guessed that she was one of the caregivers from the orphanage. “Alright, guys, the kids are coming out now,” Javier shouted over the cloud of chatter in front of …show more content…

It seemed awkward and tense at first, but Aviva spotted a piece of blue chalk on the picnic table next to her. She squeezed her way to the front of the clump of people and kneeled down to hold out the piece of chalk to a small boy. The boy was the size of a three year old, but Aviva would later learn that he was five. He had almond-shaped deep amber eyes. His jet black hair was buzzed close to his scalp and his lips were pursed just a bit. The boy looked at Aviva, then at the piece of chalk, back at Aviva, and at the chalk again. He peered at the chalk a few seconds more and finally seized it. Once the boy had taken the chalk from Aviva, the remaining mission trip-goers came forth and took children by the hand to lead them to activities. Some offered their tiny playmate a deck of cards or a puzzle, others pushed their child on the swing, while many were challenged by their young, new friend to a match of soccer or