The Little Green House Across the Streey

by Shannon De Rego

The little green house across the street.  The big tree with mangoes on the ground rotting with a million flies on top the ripped and rotting spot of the mangoes.

I hear that little green house screaming and terrified to death.  But the boys who live there seem to not notice the pain inside, but outside nothing has happened.

 

While they clean their yard like a sparkling champagne glass, you can see your reflection.  The bright red and blue colors appear once in a great while due to the screaming of the little green house.  Once again the house screams.

 

Still terrified, scared, and the pain inside the little green house still remains.  The screams get louder and louder, but then silence appears.

 

Happiness comes in a while and then it disappears.

The football jumps side to side like an acrobatic on carrizales.

 

Then the basketball jumps up and down then into a ring like a carnival act jumping through the hoops on fire.

 

The black colored circles on the truck goes round and round; the tires.

The big broccoli grows through the ground  and up into the heavens; the big mango tree.

 

The big mango tree waves to me whenever I walk home and the wind whispers to me “I’m scared help me please”.

But they always like to swim and end up going to the place where the island and the ocean meets; the sea.  The people make up some things about them but they don’t know the truth.  The liars.

 

They pop Chinese fireworks every year.

Just like the rest of us, even though they have the pain and everything.

 

Their family still do care.

All of us know each other but we mind our own business. Sometimes we hang out. But they hardly talk to others and interact with people on the street, except their best friend.

 

They used to have football practice so, they would practice outside. When they start they put themselves in full gear and run as fast as a racing spear.

 

The screams is so loud I can hear it every time at the witching hour.

But the love between the family is still strong as a rock.

 

SCREAM………  The scream goes softer and softer each day as the sun goes down til the sun goes up.  The routine continues until the last day and now the night is silence.

The days goes past and the scream no longer lingers around the little green house.  Finally, that little green house can rest and be in peace.  Even though the screams are now silence, the Mango tree still waves to me and from now on the wind whispers to me good morning, good evening, and good night.  But that was the last time the wind spoke to me. That little green house no longer cries, screams, or has red and blue colors appear. From now on that house is no longer little now it is grown and has moved on.