the story i wrote for my creative writing class

I Was Sold to The Rolling Stones?!

The blaring repetitive beeping of my alarm rang out throughout my room and eventually my head. I slowly arose from my slumber and slammed my hand down on the alarm. I groggily got out of bed and slipped on my brown uggs and put my beautiful, brown, and curly hair into a messy bun. I picked up my phone and played The Rolling Stones, to start my morning. I’ve always fantasized about being in the arms of Mick Jagger. Though I was 27 and living with my mother, I still had hope that somehow the universe would bring us together and he would find me beautiful. They’re just my favorite band ever... However, the elation from The Rolling Stones, especially Mick Jagger, subsided and I could already tell that it was going to be one of those days. I despise my life and all its worth, which is nothing. My alcoholic and abusive mother shouts foul insults and slurs at me every single day. I’m just so tired of her. 

She wasn’t always like this. We used to have a big happy family consisting of my parents, my younger brother, and myself. Everything was perfect until the incident. My poor brother died in a car crash along with my dad. Ever since then, my mother started drinking and began to abuse substances and eventually me. She blames me for their deaths but I was only a kid, who needed someone to take care of me; who needed a mother. 

I hear the sound of a reckless driver pulling up to the driveway. I checked the time and it was about nine in the morning. I ran to the window and saw my very drunk mother stumble out of the rundown Dodge minivan. While there was a mutual disdain for each other, she was still my mother. I am not entirely sure why I feel obligated to help her but I ran out of the house to do just that. 

As I approached her, I could hear her grumbling and muttering curses. She’s too hungover on a Tuesday morning. What was she doing out so late? I began to slowly pick her up to not cause her to freak out and struggle to do so. My mother began to panic. 

“Oh my God, I’m so- I'm so sorry, McKenleigh.” She groaned and slurred her words. 

“Mom, what are you talking about?” I questioned.

She has never been this emotional or apologetic before, especially towards me. She went on and kept repeating that she messed up. I still had no idea what she meant and so I was starting to get frustrated. I kept aggressively pushing for answers. I no longer feared my mother. 

“What, Mom? You need to tell me what you did wrong!” That's when she finally broke.

“I was out gambling and got full of myself and I lost to a group of men. I had to pay off the rest of my debts… So I decided to sell you.” She spoke it all swiftly, in one breath. 

I was in disbelief. It was really difficult to hear. The fact that my mother would sell me. My breathing heightened and I felt lightheaded. I was scared of the possibility of being trafficked or worse. And with that, I lost control of my body and my vision started to darken as I heard my mother calling my name.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I found myself lying on a very spongy-cushioned couch. It smelt funky as well. After a minute or two of trying to get a sense of my surroundings, I finally got a grasp of the situation. Oh my God, while I was unconscious my mother had given me up to the trafficker. Tears began to roll down my rosy cheeks as I sobbed uncontrollably. I heard the creak of the door gradually get louder than my crying, getting my attention. I looked towards the direction of the off-putting noise and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I lightly pinched myself to check if I was dreaming. There stood four men, it was the band, The Rolling Stones. 

“Hey there, girl,” One of them spoke in his British accent. “Why are you crying?”

“Well- I just- I didn’t know-”

“Shh… It’s all okay now. You’re safe.” The same man reassured “We are-”

“Oh, I know who you all are,” I interrupted him. “You guys are the Rolling Stones.” I wiped the remaining tears and adjusted myself to be more comfortable. I went on to point at each of them saying their names. And then it got to him. My forever yearning, everlasting longing. Mick Jagger. I tried speaking but nothing came out. Opening and closing my mouth just from utter shock. 

“Careful, love, you might catch flies,” He spoke with his posh British accent, laced with such suave, “with your mouth open and all.”

Still in aw and now slightly embarrassed, I slowly closed my mouth. I couldn’t tell what it was, but there was some sort of deep connection like I was waiting for this moment. I forgot about all my troubles. 

“Uh, hello? Can you guys stop that?” One of the other group members called out, “we have to explain to her what was happening.”

I was a bit confused but then Mick spoke.

“This may be hard to believe, but me and the band” He started, “We’re werewolves.”

I busted out laughing. This day couldn’t get any better. However, my laughter ceased when I heard a low growl. I looked up and saw Mick with narrowed eyes. 

“Be serious, please.” His gaze softened “

I shifted in my seat. Mick let out a low growl. His eyes gradually faded from black to red. I heard his bones start to crack and saw that they started to shift. I backed into the couch as much as I could out of fear. 

“We are mates.” Mick spoke but it sounded as if it wasn’t his voice. He then started to lunge at me but before anything bad could happen I shut my eyes.

A moment or two pass me by. I heard the familiar blaring beeping of my alarm clock. I slowly opened my eyes.

Turns out it was all just a dream.....