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This is a small piece i had to do for my creative writing class at school. I was not sure if i wanted to go on with the story or if it was best left as is. Comments are welcome.





As a child, all I remember is my mom. She was my rock, my only guardian. Calm eyes, warm smile, it was always enough for me. It was not until I was around the age of seven that I really started to wonder, who is he? Who is my father? I would ask my mom ever so often when she seemed to be in a good mood, ďwho is my dad?Ē She would always smile and leave the conversation with a phony excuse. The way she shooed my question away, the way her voice sounded, the look in her eyes, I knew I wouldnít find the answer from her for a very long time. The thing that struck me the most was that it never went away, the desire to know. Every time I would fill out a school paper asking for both my parentís names, every time the teachers told us to go home and ask our moms and dads. It stung; it never went away, this desire. I searched through stacks of papers at my house, no names of potential fathers. My birth certificate didnít even have a name on it for father. What kind of man was this, one that wouldnít even accompany my mother to his childís birth? Still, I needed to know, I didnít just want to know, I needed to. Did he even know I existed? On my sixteenth birthday, I blew out the candles on my birthday cake; I wished that he would find me, that his name would turn up somewhere, somehow. Sure enough, my wish came true.
The day after my birthday I got off the bus and walked up to my porch. Sitting on the porch was a box dropped off from UPS. I brought it inside and ripped the tape off with my teeth, I didnít know why I always insisted on using my teeth as a tool, but I did. Inside the box was a present, wrapped in birthday cake wrapping paper. There was a card. I assumed it was from one of my aunts. I ripped open the card, searching for money. Instead of money I found the words-

[i]Dear Stephen,
Happy sixteenth birthday, you are growing up so fast. I miss you. I know that I have never been around much but I promise I will be soon. There is a present in the box, I know itís cheesy but I heard you like basketball. Listen, donít judge a book by its cover.
Love,
Dad.[/i]

My hands shook with anxiety. Was this some kind of joke? I opened the wrapped box and found a toy car inside. I laughed out loud. It was yellow and purple car with Kobe Bryant coming out of the roof holding a basketball. How did he know that I like basketball? Had he talked to my mother? Anger pumped through my veins, sweat appeared on my brow. Donít judge a book by its cover? What, he appears to be a deadbeat absent father, but really isnít? What a load of crap. I threw the stupid toy car down to the floor. It cracked, good, I was furious. After sixteen years, a toy car, thatís all? What about some money for college? My nostrils flared. I bent down the pick up the car and found that something was sticking out from inside the vehicle. A piece of paper. A business card. I straightened out the thick paper and read it.



Roger Smith




Secret agent for the CIA.








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Comments

The following comments are for "THE BIRTHDAY WISH"
by woalook100

shortest
thing I've read of yours ever! I got busy last year, so I never finished Daddy Dearest; will be commenting on it in a few days or less.
This story was clever, maybe a little too simple coming from a storyteller like yourself; but it is tight nonetheless. It's good to see you are still posting things.

( Posted by: brickhouse [Member] On: July 3, 2009 )

Birthday wish
This is cute. I'm not sure you could go on with this unless you want to write a novel. you know what i mean? To agree with brickhouse, the story is very basic, simple. Like a first time writer. anyways, your heart was in the right place. toodles!

( Posted by: smartie99 [Member] On: July 3, 2009 )





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