The Price of Hope
Nothing.  I lounge on my bed, and stare at the empty ceiling, wondering what to make of the lonely Saturday night.  This lackluster night provides nothing.  I rise and stroll to the living room hoping for an opportunity to present itself.  Callie sits at the center of the room, surrounded by the tan rocks of the fireplace.  The small room dismisses all sounds and motions in a quiet manner the glow of artificial lights occupies the space.  Outside, the brutal winter weather bears a blanket of darkness.  Callie stares intensely at social media on her phone, as still as a calm summer day.
“How can I mess with her today,” I think to myself.  No other options come to my mind for a sibling.
I approach her with simple ideas to irk her, and an idea pops in my head.
“I’ll snatch the phone out of her hands,” I think to myself; it is a classic stunt of mine in the art of annoyance.
I arrive at her position on the fireplace and wait, like a lion stalking its prey.  She remains glued to her new $500 iPhone 6.  I dart my arm out and pluck the phone from her grasp.  I recoil but emerge unsuccessful.
The smooth plastic slips through my grasp.  My thumb and fingers fail at their only duty:  hanging on.  The phone slowly floats high into the air, seemingly unaffected by gravity.  Callie opens her eyes wide, and her mouth gapes open as if drawn by strings. My expression mimics hers.  The phone tumbles, rotates and wiggles like a flopping fish as it ascends.  The air grabs at the expensive device and propels it along.  I fix my gaze directly on the flying object; everything else becomes a distant and forgotten world.  After what already seems like a minute, the phone begins to descend.  My widened eyes capture each frame as the disaster tragically unfolds before me.  I suddenly realize the end point of parabolic path of the phone:  Mom’s Macbook Pro.  Mom purchased it about a month ago for a staggering $1500 -- a hefty dent made into her cache of money.  The computer proved worthy of the price for it drastically improved our web surfing,  helped our paper typing, and eased our research finding; the machine exceeds expectations. Amazingly, a small machine makes life much more efficient.  The phone plans to destroy this.  As it arrives closer to the priceless computer, it accelerates with plans for maximum damage.  The descent completes and the phone pierces the crystal clear LED screen, and ricochetes off as it were made of rubber. 
My sister and I freeze as we assess the situation.  We slowly make our way up to the scene of the disaster; we refused to know the extent of the damage.  Ripples of electric lines scatter haphazardly through the screen.  On the bottom, a small crack bears a scar from the accident.  I touch the thin screen in a futile attempt to fix it, and a black cloud roams over the points of contact.  With a wince on my face, I bend down and pick up Callie’s phone, expecting serious damage.  Thankfully, I see nothing.
“Mom, come here,” I say with a shaking voice.
She smoothly walks in, but stops in her tracks upon viewing the scene of the broken riches.  Her eyes remain in an emotionless blank stare, and she does not move, but I notice her anger and disgust deep in her eyes.
“Jackson go to your room,” she says in a calm but irate tone.
I dash to my room, slam the door, and bury my head in my pillow.  In a quiet isolation, I consider who I am.  Am I a bad person?  Is this case the first in a line of bad deeds?  How can I resolve this conflict?  Perhaps I am overly pessimistic and unrealistic about it.  After all, this occurred as only one accident -- an accident fresh in my mind tarnishing my view on my entire life.  Before, such a disastrous act seemed impossible.  Apparently this view appears incorrect.  I make mistakes -- some more severe than others -- but these mistakes do not define who I am.  I must overcome adversity and move past the negative times in life.  They seem catastrophic at first, but in the end, they exist simply as another chapter of life. 
I turn over and once again stare at the ceiling.  Now, the emptiness vanishes,  agony arrives.  At the moment, the burden weighs down my confidence and self image, but only temporarily.  The future holds success and prosperity, and most importantly, it contains hope.