Write A Scots Story

Ma hoose seemed like lego. When I got hame, there were boxes a wy. Pieces of it had moved. A photae off a the windaesill, a pair a wellies shifted fae their place aside the door. Ma sister wis sittin on the fleer, a few tears runnin doon her face. It made me upset, seein ma sister greet, and seein how ah her things could jist be uplifted and taken away, but it wis her choice. She wanted to leave. She said university was important, that she wanted tae live by herself, but it didnae look like it.

She looked up when I walked in, and said through a weak voice that didna sound like her ane, “I dinna want tae go.”

I couldna think o anyhin tae say. I jist sat doon aside her an tried tae hud back the tears. I couldna. They started streamin doon ma face, but I didna say anyhin. I didna even look at her, cos I kaint it would mak ahin worse.

I dinnna kane how lang we sat there. It must a been a while, cos fan I got up fae the fleer, the piles o boxes were ah higher, and ahin seemed busy, like fan we were at school, and Miss Morris telt us we hid tae write 2 pages o our story afore the end o the day, an abdy sat in silence, but you could hear ah the pencils gan, as if a wee army o ants wis stormin through the room.