Narrative Writing: A Boy Named Timothy By Ferah

A Boy Named Timothy

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. The room was cold and crowded and had a weird vibe. At first, it seemed pitch black inside, but the balcony door hidden by the curtains showed swaying shadows of light.

My breath caught in my throat; as silent tears ran down my face. I curled up towards myself, knees drawn to my chest, elbows close to my body as my hands tightly clenched the blankets. Until I heard the first knock. With that, I thought nothing of it wiped my eyes and sat up. I crept out of my bed and opened my bedroom door with the expectation of someone like my parents or little brother standing at the door, but no. There was no one. The sound of my parents fighting often kept me awake, so seeing my little brother was a frequent occasion. Then I heard another knock, this time I was sure it was behind me. I slowly turned around and looked around the room as I instantly locked eyes with a boy, standing at my balcony window, waving as if I knew him. I closed the door and curiously but gradually walked over to my balcony door. He looked friendly so I opened my window first with cautiousness and said “Hello”, he replied with “Hi, I’m Timothy Green, I’m new here”. “Naveen Dunne” I answered as I gazed down at what he was wearing. “Brown hair, blue eyes, green pyjamas, dinosaur socks and a teddy bear, what an odd combination” I thought. “What’s keeping you up?” he asked. “I don’t know, what’s keeping you up?” I quickly replied. “I don’t sleep” he jokingly said. With a questioned facial I trustingly opened the door. “My parents are fighting, it’s hard to fall asleep when you keep hearing your name” I said. “Oh” he added, “Well, what’s it about?”. “Who knows” I announced “They fight about anything and everything”. “Why don’t you talk to them?” he asked. “Me, talk to my parents.” I angrily said. “Yes, maybe if you talk to them they’ll stop fighting. You know kids can help adults too” he implied. Hesitatingly I walked over to the door and I listened to the constant bickering of my parents.

Looking back at Timothy, he signaled me to go. I opened the door and stepped foot outside my room. I tiptoed over to the kitchen as I peeked around the wall. I took a deep breath, and entered the kitchen. Nervous, I stared at my parents arguing. I stayed so quiet they didn’t even notice I was there. “STOP IT!” I yelled “That’s enough”. My parents and I talked for hours about solving what they were fighting about. My mum was pregnant and we couldn’t afford to buy things for the baby. They said that keeping the baby would have meant less things for my brother and I. We decided to let my Aunt who couldn’t have babies take care of it.

As I went back to my room tired, I ran over to my balcony and noticed Timothy was still there. “Thankyou” I told him as the sky turned red. “It’s okay, at least you helped your parents out”. As I walked back to my bed, I turned around and Timothy disappeared. I would have gotten up to go find him but being up for hours made me feel sleepy. I think its cool how I was able to help my parents, with a little bit of help from a boy named Timothy.

The End