"Behind the Skin"

This is a story that I wrote in year 8. I remember I was inspired when I saw our new neighbours drive past us for the first time, in their moving truck, and waved at us. Then I started thinking, and the result was this story. I'm pretty sure I put it in my weird anthology thing that year, too.
I think that I thought I was really cool, having such a leading ending. I realise now that it's not even an ending at all, more of a cliche ending of a prologue.
One trait, among others, that I share with my year 8 self is the talent of starting stories and never finishing them. I loved, and still do, thinking of the the title, and the first few sentences, and the last line. Different lines and words the characters will say come in and out of my mind, but I never get around to filling the vast gaps between what I have figured out. Plus, I rarely plan plots; just write the first page and half, save it, then leave it. Maybe those stories' destinies lie in being posted, under the face of nostalgia, on my blog?
Well, according to my own Substantial Blog Entry guideline, I think I have written enough to accompany this entry.

P.S., I didn't proof read it to preserve the authenticity of the document (and I really couldn't be bothered).

Happy reading! (And don't judge me, I think I have improved a little since then.)

Behind the Skin

When they first arrived they looked so normal. Two Happy parents and two adorable children, they just looked like the perfect neighbours but that’s where I was wrong.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and the house next door to us had been empty for three weeks. Me my Mum and my little brother were checking the mail and just joking around when the first moving truck passed us, driven by a man around thirty with his family by his side. The first truck was soon followed by six more all white, dirty and had blank number plates.

We waved cheerfully and he returned the favour. We walked over to greet them and welcome them to the neighbourhood but quickly changed our minds as we were greeted with a look that said ‘’nothing suspicious going on here, now GO AWAY!’’ the must have been busy having to unload the contents of all six moving trucks.

That night I couldn’t sleep, there was a rustling coming from out side my window. So I jumped out of bed and was ready to scream at whatever was keeping me awake but was quickly muted by the sight of our neighbour emptying the contents of his tank into ours. I was going to question him and make him fess up but my thoughts were swept away as he turned around and I saw a small gun tucked tightly into his belt. I nearly jumped out of my skin, I was on the floor in half a second I had whacked my head on my bedside table and I could already feel a small bump forming rapidly on my forehead. But I had the courage to stand up again to get a second look, he was just finishing off the job but he was looking around furtively like he could feel my eyes boring in to him. I lay down trying to consume what I had just witnessed. Why did he want to have an empty tank? This one question settled in my brain for most the night keeping me awake, but eventually one more question moved in along side it how was I going to explain the bump on my head tomorrow morning?

I awoke after a few hours of worried, broken sleep to a cold flannel on my face and my blankets being pulled slowly of my glass and paper body. Then nearly asleep again under my pillows was brought back to life abruptly by my two year old brother yelling enthusiastically ‘’Morning time, morning time’’ I erupted like a dormant volcano, I stomped out, threw on my uniform, grabbed my prepacked bag and left the house completely un aware of what I was going to do in the next twenty-four hours.

I knew that it would effect my grades I knew that I would never be trusted but I couldn’t go to school for six hours with this thing nagging at me from the inside out so I decided that I would skip school, not tell anyone and find myself and get to the proof to unmask the hidden truth and prove that our oh so friendly neighbours are really fleeing fugitives and professional frauds.