Poor Mrs Pauley

‘The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.’

My first question is what an earth is a stoop?! *Googles and is now enlightened that the stairs she used to play on outside her flat is called a stoop*


Mum kicked us out before dinner, saying we needed fresh air. Why doesn’t she understand that I was so close to levelling up and finishing my game? There’s more important things than fresh air! I get enough of it when I’m at school in P.E.. Plus it would be more interesting if she let me go out on my bike, but she wants to be able to see me from the kitchen window. I took Meg our Border Collie out with me, if I’m forced outside then so is she. Except she loved it wagging her tail as she followed me. I was playing fetch on the grass outside when I saw a police car stop outside our house. Another car pulled up behind it, what was going on? I looked at mum, who was staring back at me. Was I in trouble?

They get out of their cars and cross the road, walking towards Mrs Pauley’s house. Maybe they’re her sons, and it was a party? She mentioned she had six sons, who she rarely saw except for birthdays and Christmases. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t visit more, Mrs Pauley was cool, even though I was old enough and didn’t really need a babysitter (mums!) Mrs Pauley always let me do what I want. She also gave me all her chocolates she got during Easter, because she didn’t want them.

They banged on the door, asking Mrs Pauley to let them in. Why didn’t they call her mum? I could hear her shouting, but couldn’t make out the words. The policeman looked to his colleague and he forced the door open, it dawned on me that they weren’t her sons. Meg started barking, I ran over. Mrs Pauley was screaming ‘You can’t do this, I’ve lived here for forty years.’ I asked her what was wrong. She broke down into tears and hugged me. I’d never seen her so sad. She explained everything to me, she couldn’t pay her rent and they were going to take her house away. These two men were dragging her sofas outside, the same ones I had sat on for many years that she had read stories to me on.

‘You could stay with us, mum won’t mind.’ I say, Meg rests her head on Mrs Pauley’s leg, she agrees too.

Annmarie xoxo



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