Pink

Jaya Hinton
Black
Marley Majette
Dark Blue
Isabella Tilley
Teal Blue Olivia Gonzalez
Purple
Alix Swann
The Crimson Letter
Bye mom! I yell as I take the money she just gave me to go out and buy bread. The
door slams behind me, as I breathe in the brisk Boston air. Today is an unusually quiet morning,
the only sound being my feet splashing through small puddles from last nights rain. All of a
sudden, I notice a strange man lurking by a streetlamp. He doesnt seem like hes from our
neighborhood. He looks like the type of person who was spoiled rotten and never had to work for
anything in his life. In fact, he is wearing a jacket with a varsity letter on it, that looks like it
belonged to the nearby prep school. I found myself staring at the scar above his right eyebrow.
His cold eyes meet mine, full of hate. He gives me a death glare, but before he gets a chance to
yell something at me, I cross to the other side of the street. I reach the bakery, and buy a fresh
baguette. My mother's favorite.
I hurry back home to help my brother get ready for school. Hes the only one in my
family that will ever be able to go to school, and today is his first day. My front door is unlocked
which is odd, because Im positive I locked it. I always lock it. Worry creeps in as I push it open,
the warm smell of the bread is replaced by something sharp and metallic. Theres blood
everywhere. My family is on the ground. Dead. I cant breathe. My legs give away beneath me,
and the bread falls to the side. I notice something peeking out from under the couch. The letter A.
The very same letter that the man I saw before was wearing on his jacket. Suddenly it all hits me,
and I start sobbing. My nose fills once again with the metallic smell. My mouth starts to taste like
pennies. Blood. Blood everywhere.

I was jolted awake by the smacking of my head against the train window and the wilted
smell of the intoxicated man next to me. I held my breath and glanced away, exhaling slowly
once my forehead came in contact with the cool surface of the window, trying my hardest to
forget the dream that shook me to my core and brought back the memories I tried so hard to
forget.

I glanced outside, and through the dense fog I could see flashes of red from the

surrounding farm houses. The red was an almost...crimson color. I inhaled sharply and bit my
tongue as a fresh wave of tears rose to my eyes. I rushed hurriedly past the drunken man and
into the lavatory.
Are you okay, dear? an attendant knocked on the door. I bit back my sob. No, I
wanted to shout. My familys dead and Im alive and at this point I honestly dont want to be.
Yes maam, I said forcing my voice to sound as cheery as possible. I waited for the
sound of her footsteps to disappear before finally letting my tears flow down my face. I sobbed
freely. I couldnt find it in me to care anymore.
The train arrived at the station and I grabbed what few belongings I had. I ignored the
sympathetic, pitying looks from attendants and passengers who had heard me cry and marched
out, head high to find my uncle. Not that he was hard to find. At over six feet tall with thick
dark locks and chocolate brown eyes, he stood out clearly among a crowd. I took after him and
my mother with long dark tresses and dark brown eyes. I was a bit on the short side, though, at
five feet and five inches.
Hello Irene.
Hello uncle, I replied curtly. He reached out as if he wanted to give me a hug but
decided against it after seeing my wary expression, opting instead for a sigh before placing my
bags in the trunk.

I hope you had a comfortable voyage and are well rested. When we arrive back on the
farm you will be introduced another farmhand. Shes about your age and is excited to meet
you. he said glancing at me. I simply nodded and he sighed once again. I know we dont know
each other well Irene, but I loved your mother and I chose to take you in. I want you to feel
comfortable here. Loved as well. I know you dont want to hear it but were family and I want
the best for you. Whats mine is yours and if you need something, please dont hesitate to ask.
He placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed as we pulled into the farm, the sun now shining,
drying up the grass and the tears threatening to spill over and on to my still slightly flushed face.
I was met by sounds of life. Clucking, bleating, neighing, barking, and oinking. It was
obnoxious, and a far cry from the rambunctious industrial town I grew up in. Uncle Art dragged
my suitcase inside as I looked around. I saw a flash of fiery red hair leaving the barn and moved
towards it, stumbling back when I was met with a wide smile and a cheery greeting.
~
Hi! said that fiery haired girl with an unusual yet welcoming tone, Im Marissa. Its so
great to have another girl my age working on the farm.
Yes. It is great. I looked down at my shoes, lifting them up and down, displeased with
the muck that covered my new riding boots, and then looked up again to her bubbly green eyes.
Her auburn bangs were plastered to her forehead. Her faded blue-black overalls were too big for
her lanky frame. Her sun-kissed face smiled at me as she reached for my hand pulling me
unrelentlessly toward the rest of the farm.
Uncle Art gave a small wave, letting me know that everything was fine. That there was
nothing to worry about, when he knew that my familys untimely death would be something that
everyone was going to have to try and get over. As I thought to myself, about having Marissa

and everyone else in this bland town console me when they didnt even know me--it made me
roll my eyes with displeasure. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the rancid smell of
feces.
I looked around at all of the pigs rolling around in there own bodily fluids mixed with the
foods they ate. It was quite a disturbing sight.
Irene, look, Marissa guided me towards the back of the pig stye, toward a smaller
enclosure. There, rolling around in fresh hay, sucking on their mothers nipples, were seven
piglets. The runt of the litter was being pushed around, and the sight warmed my heart.
I picked up the munchkin; the black spot over his eye reminded me of my brother. He
struggled as a boy. Very few friends, sickly, unable to work. At the time he had nothing to help
him find purpose in life. I didnt help with that either. God, I wish I would have been a better
older sister.
I gently tossed the little pig aside while Marissa looked up at me with sad eyes. I could
tell she wanted to help; she seemed like a genuine person, but that wasnt going to happen. I
didn't need anyone but myself, and I surely didn't need any help from a ridiculously enthusiastic
farmhand.
We moved through to see the rest of the farm. The chickens were next and--my god--they
were loud, cluck-clucking all over the yard. Marissa handed me a bag of feed to keep them quiet.
The roosters were quite ferocious. They picked at my boots with determination, and by the look
in their beady eyes I could tell that they would be ready to take on any opponent at any time.
The border collies flocked throughout the luscious summer grass without a care in the
world. The sun beamed down on their silky coats. The girls, Mollie, Izzy, and Alix were the
friendliest dogs anyone would have ever met. As I watched them, I envied them wishing that I

didnt spend endless night wide awake, jolted by the disheartening death of my family. I envied
those dogs, longing for their freedom and trust with the world. I envied them.
The boy Spot was a grumpy fellow. He had been wary of my presence on the farm since I
had arrived at the entrance. When I tried to pet him he backed away and walked toward Marissa.
Dont worry about Spot. Hell come around, she said as she pet his small head gruffly.
Its fine, I said with a short and insincere smile. It didnt matter that Spot didnt want a
pet from me. Hes just a dog; for Gods sake, I didnt even want to be there.

House work and

farm work werent something that I was used to, and it wasnt something that I planned on
getting used to.
The dewey summer grass cooled my warm head. I laid back in it, looking up at the cool
sky and wondering if my parents were looking down at me. Mollie was licking my face, her
warm kisses soothed my mind for a moment as I thought about nothing. Nothing at all.
The day was coming to an end. Marissa and I began to walk toward the house. The dogs
were trotting behind us, tails wagging, content, and full of life. The air tasted of fresh vegetables
and fruits. Uncle Art was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled oh-so-delicious. His
famous gravy smothered pork chops and homemade biscuits. He looked me in the eyes with a
warm and humble smile.
When we sat at the table, my thoughts and feelings--burdens--were lifted from my
shoulders. I knew this was how it was going to be here, and I almost felt happy, but I couldn't
shake the image of my parents from the back of my mind.
~
The soft, reddish morning light pushed its way through my curtains and prodded me
awake. I rose groggily, and reluctantly slipped into the ugly overalls required for farm work. For

a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in the painting of Boston--my only connection to urban
life.
A panicked squawk brought me back to rural life, and I scrambled to tie my long hair
back into a bandana and rush outside.
Youre an early riser. Marissa sarcastically but jovially remarked with her back to me.
Im not used to waking up this early, I replied.
Youll get used to it. Finally she turned toward me and wiped her hands off on her
already-muddy overalls. Youll be working the horses today. You might need help.
No, I said flatly, but thanks. I turned and began to make my way in what I thought
was the direction of the stable.
Wrong way, said Marissa, and pointed me toward a barn-like structure. She started to
get back to work, but turned back to me. Do you know what to do?
I paused. No. I could feel my face get hot.
Marissa sighed, but nonetheless led me to the horses, noticeably less enthusiastic about
her role as my teacher today. In about twenty minutes, she had given me a tour of the barn,
taught me the basics of horses, and had given me a list of chores. Be especially careful around
Goldie, she warned.
I know, youve told me about twenty times already. I rolled my eyes. I know what to
do.
Well, Marissa replied coldly, Ill leave you to it then. Surely you wont need my
help.
I acquiesced, and Marissa left me alone. Finally.

Working with the horses was much more fun than collecting chicken eggs and milking
cows. For the most part, they were sweet and gentle, and not filthy like pigs. I spent my morning
grooming each of the four horses--except Goldie--until their coats gleamed. Goldie was
ferocious, and she pinned her ears back every time I walked by her stall.
After I had cleaned all of the tack, it was time to turn out the horses. I started with Cisco,
the sweet, dark bay who was constantly badgering me for treats.
Despite his sweet demeanor, he was headstrong, and did not want to go outside. The
other two horses, Lucy and Twist, gave me the same amount of trouble, if not more. Realizing
that I had problems with the horses I got along with, I became even more reluctant of turning out
Goldie.
Goldie did not want to be turned out, and made a point of showing me. She snapped, she
brayed, she pranced. I eventually slung a halter over her head, and clumsily fastened it. As
bravely as possible, I began to lead her outside.
In the hallway of the barn, Goldie surprised me with her good behavior. But as soon as
we reached the paddock, she began to misbehave. This time it was worse. She didnt snap, she
fiercely attempted to eat off my fingers; she didnt bray, she nearly roared. Instead of prancing,
she began to jump and buck. Scared, I twisted the lead rope around my hand. All of a sudden,
Goldie reared, and her head pulled me up with her. When she came back down, I nearly got
squashed by a hoof. I screamed, and felt myself stumble to the ground. Goldie began to
awkwardly canter around the paddock, and I was being awkwardly and painfully dragged beside
her.

Tears streamed down my face, and I felt mucus building up at the back of my throat,
clogging my airways. My chest hurt, and my hand was bleeding from the rope burn. I realized,
suddenly, that I did not want to die.
Almost as soon as it had started, it stopped. The pain was still there, but I could feel my
heart returning to its normal, non-spasmodic state. Marissa stood above me, soothing Goldie.
Hey, she said.
I coughed and spat phlegm into the dry dirt. I guess I do need your help.
~
Weeks passed, and day by day Marissa, Uncle and I all began to come a lot closer. The
intimacy of the town had gotten to me and I was beginning to accept it, although I wasnt
entirely prepared for the bonding activities that Uncle Art forced me into. One night after dinner
Marissa suggested we take a walk, and Uncle Art thought that it was a wonderful idea. The two
of us have been taking them ever since. Even Spot started to come around, albeit reluctantly:
sitting at my feet at the dinner table, and even trotting behind me on the evening walks Marissa
and I took.
I was beginning to care more about the dog, and one evening I noticed that he was
walking with a slight limp.
Marissa, I asked, Is there something wrong with Spot?
Im not sure." She replied warily, eyeing the spotted dog.
"He doesn't usually limp, does he? I asked, glancing towards him as well.
No, he doesnt, she replied. Maybe we should ask your uncle to take him to the vet.
The two of us walked for a bit longer, but Spot was only taking small, slow, agonizing steps. I
became even more worried as he started to stumble, back legs going stiff.

"Marissa we need to hurry!" I squeaked out in a panic, rushing with Marissa to pick him up and
drag him into the farm house.

Go get Uncle Art, said Marissa with a calm voice and a panicked face. That worried me
more than anything else. Her cheery demeanor had left her for something more serious, and I
never thought I'd see the day.
Not even thinking about her slightly bossy tone, I rushed to find Uncle Art without
complaint. Uncle Art! I cried at a silhouette about a hundred meters away.
He carelessly turned to face me, but his face quickly became alert when he perceived the
distress in my demeanor. What is it? His voice was only slightly reassuring; he too was bad at
disguising his emotions.
Its Spot--hes limping, and hes in pain. I tried to keep my voice from cracking, but I
could feel the sobs rising at the back of my throat, and I struggled to keep them down. This
brought back too many raw emotions. The fear present in me now was nearing the amount of
fear I felt when I discovered my family. I had grown to love the animals here and Spot was one
of my favorites. I couldn't lose anybody else.
"We have to get to the hospital." I said firmly pulling myself together. I needed to stay
strong for myself and everybody else.
We loaded into the van and I rested Spots head in my lap, running my fingers lightly
through his fur and over his ears.
The ride seemed to take forever forever. Spot became more and more subdued as we
continued to drive. I could feel him become more and more limp in my lap. I felt the fear
coursing through my body. Even though Spot didnt like me at the beginning, he was a good dog,
and I didnt want to lose him.

When we finally got to the hospital, the vets took Spot back into a room. I clutched
Marissas hand in one of mine and my uncles in the other. I knew they needed the support as
well, and I finally was willing to give it to them.
We sat in the waiting room, silent but comfortable. I started to think about my family.
Even though their murder had been months ago, not a day went by that I didnt think about it. I
contemplated digging deeper into the identity of the mystery man, but each time, the scenarios in
my mind didnt end well. Even if I did find out more about him, I would just be angry. I would
wish a horrible death on the man that killed my family. What good would knowing who he was
do for me anyways? It wasnt going to bring my family back to life. But maybe he had a reason.
Maybe they did something bad. But if they did, why am I still alive?
It doesnt matter why Im alive, it only matters that I am. Maybe there is a reason, maybe
there isnt, but I need to learn to be grateful for the life that I have been given. My own second
chance of sorts. I should have come to this realization a long time ago. My indifference and
confusion these past few weeks has been causing the new people around me pain. Ive been blunt
and rude, and they didnt deserve any of it. They arent the people that killed my family. I will
never forget about what happened, but I think that by opening up to uncle Art and Marissa, I
have finally gotten some closure.
Uncle Art and Marissa both tried especially hard. And I resented both of them for the
longest time. They tried to make me feel welcome, and at home. Marissa tried to help me with all
of the farm directions, and if I had accepted her help these weeks would have gone a lot
smoother. I couldve done way better. I could've tried much harder.

The vets soon returned with good news. Spot was okay, he just needed to take medicine
twice a day to prevent the oncoming arthritis. I took over the task, because Uncle Art was prone
to forgetfulness.
We left the hospital in good spirits. The ride home was joyful, an air of relief surrounding
us, and we talked the whole way back. Once we got there, I took Spot inside and put him on his
bed. I said goodbye to Marissa, and Uncle Art went back out into the fields. It was nice to finally
have some peace and quiet.
The following morning, I kept thinking about how kind Uncle Art and Marissa had been
toward me, despite my brattiness. Even though the mood on the ride back from the vet had been
lighthearted, I still felt that I needed to resolve the lingering tension between Marissa and I. I
picked up the phone to call her, and I asked her to come over to the farm house for lunch. She
agreed happily, and said that she would be right over. I headed over to the kitchen and started
making sandwiches, and soon I heard a knock on the door.
Hi Irene! How are you? she exclaimed as I opened the door. She dove at me, and
instead of pulling back like I usually did, I accepted her warm embrace. She was surprised, but
brushed off the feeling as we walked into the house.
Im great! And thanks for coming over on such short notice, I replied. We walked into
the kitchen and sat at the table. I pulled out the plate of sandwiches from the refrigerator, and we
started to eat.
So whats up? Marissa asked.
I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted when I first got here. I was so rude to you
and you were just trying to help me out, so thank you for that.

Oh, no problem! I knew youd come around eventually, she said. We finished eating
and went out to ride the horses. I finally knew how to handle them correctly, thanks to Marissa.
This bubbly girl really was a once in a lifetime friend, and I was glad I decided to trust her. We
passed Uncle Art on the field and he waved at us.
Hey Marissa? Can you wait here while I go talk to my uncle? I asked her.
Sure thing! Take your time! I rode over to Art and got off my horse.
Hey Irene. Glad to see you and Marissa hanging out, he said.
I just wanted to come and apologize to you. I know when I first got here I was upset,
and maybe even a bit confused, but I still shouldnt have acted that way toward you and Marissa.
I apologized to her already, and I think were fine now.
Its okay Irene. I talked to her before, and we both understand. I gave him a hug, and he
was surprised too.
Im going to go back to Marissa now. See you at dinner?
Of course. See you then. I mounted my horse and ride back to Marissa.
Everything alright? She asked.
Everything is fine. And for the first time in a long time, I truly meant it.