Covered Disaster

With the start of football season comes the dreaded fundraisers. I ask Mom for a ride to the neighborhood on the other side of town; I heard they buy the most over there. Mom tells me to take my bike. After the twenty-minute bike ride and knocking on over thirty doors, I decide I will try one more house. I knock and wait patiently, no reply. I knock again, too hard this time, and the door creaks open.

"Hello?" I yell inside. No answer. I slowly take a step inside, curious as to why someone would leave their door partially open if they were not home. I look around the room. Black walls are the first thing I notice. What kind of weirdo has black walls? Clothes, papers, and garbage line the floor and furniture. A slight stench comes from the kitchen. It is the smell of food when you leave it out too long. I round the corner to see dishes piled high. They must be at least a week old! I go back to the living room, shocked that somebody could live like this. The faint sound of a buzzing TV comes from upstairs. I take a few steps forward and feel a wetness seeping through my sock. A puddle lies on the floor.

A sour smell stings my nose and I decide it is time to leave. Just as I am about to shut the door, I hear a slight groan from upstairs. Somebody is home! I need to make sure whoever is there is all right. I hesitantly walk up the stairs; once again calling out, only to not be answered. I take a deep breath and round the corner. A woman lays passed out on a couch. I recognize her instantly, my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Botts.