Re: Trailer Trash Novels & Stories

I glance up momentarily, and I see Tristan! Leaping up, I stub my toe so hard I'm bleeding all over the floor. But I don't care. I take the television off mute, then press rewind. Trey Diego and Gloria Vasala are selling The Black Corporation and The Black Corporation International for two trillion dollars. Although Trey and Gloria are the CEOs and spokespeople, I see Tristan in the back. I record it, pause it, then take photos of him. Paralyzed, I stare at his paused image in the back of this crowd for hours.

"Yes. It's the fifth one on the right." The travel trailer was dark and there were no streetlights, so the entire area looked sinister. Who was I kidding? It was sinister and that's why I almost landed in jail. The car stopped and he turned off the loud engine. My hand went to the door handle as I looked at his profile. "I still don't understand why you did this, but thank you." The headlights were still on and Reed looked out through the windshield. I followed the direction of his gaze and saw my little sister's cat pacing in front of the trailer door.

Flashback; Harsh was returning with his family from their delightful vacation in Switzerland. As they emerged from the airport, his chauffeur was already waiting with the sleek car. He gently held little Shanaya in his arms, her eyelids heavy with sleep. Taking the keys, he dismissed the driver and settled into the driver's seat. The car glided away as the night drew closer. "Mumma, I wan ish cleam,"(I want ice cream) three-year-old Shanaya uttered in her adorable, gibberish voice, Her big, expressive brown eyes gazed out of the window.

To her, that was worse than death. "Too bad, it's not up to you." Donovan waved, ordering, "Exile them to the Wastelands. They are never to set foot in any packs again." The Wastelands were a barren, desolate region in Northmere—no food, no water, only howling winds and savage beasts. Being sent there was synonymous with a death sentence. The Gamma warriors stepped forward, dragging the mentally shattered Falcon and the struggling Julia out like rugs. Walter remained collapsed on the floor, watching his son being taken away. After a night, he looked decades older.

Luke and Tricia glared at me with even more hatred in their eyes. They immediately started contacting the biggest DNA testing center in the city to get the test redone. The streamers present had been hired by Tricia to support her side. She had already paid them in advance to ensure the scandal gained traction. So by now, the drama had gone viral online. Netizens were all demanding a livestream and waiting eagerly for the final result. Seeing that, Tricia grew more excited and confident. She spun around and shouted, "I won't let down the people who believe in me! I'll give you all a proper answer very soon!"

They stepped inside, holding up their torchlights, only to be met with a room filled with garbage. The stench was unbearable, thick and suffocating. Amidst the filth lay a worn-out, grimy mat—it had been my bed. The only possession I had was a tattered doll I'd brought from home. The doll stood out in the squalor. Its age was apparent; the fabric was faded and patched in several places. Yet, it was clear the doll had once been cherished, lovingly repaired by its owner.

The trailer slows down and lets down a ledge, pushing its back doors open. I attempted to slow down too, but the Jeep Gladiator accelerates and continued to bump into me until it successfully pushes my M5 Sedan into the back of the trailer. Its back door instantly closes, and suddenly, everything goes dark.

The ointments were replacements for the one he threw out but they still felt like the old one I always clutched for support. Maybe because like that day, he hadn’t cared about why I was so obsessed with a used bottle of ointment. He just decided it was important and replaced it. That was the Travis I knew and loved. And that Travis was gone. With a deep breath, I walked to the trash bin and dumped the entire box. The crash of plastic hitting plastic felt louder than it should have, but it echoed through the room as if giving me the closure I desperately needed. I picked the trash can off the floor to go dump it outside the bigger trash can outside the house. I paused by my drawers, rememberi

Breed unlocked the trailer door and swung it open. Silence greeted him. He peered inside the darkened trailer. It was still sort of dark out and he couldn’t see anything. “Greer, hand me a light.” Greer turned to another brother and grabbed his flashlight then handed it up to Breed. The men all stood and waited as Breed popped the light on. Suddenly, a high pitched scream exploded out of the trailer at Breed as a body flew at him. This body had knocked him off the trailer, down on top of Greer.

“You’re going to tell me everything about this cousin of yours… full name, where he lives, what he drives, who he sleeps with, and the color of his damn toothbrush. And if you leave anything out, I’ll know.” He hesitated. Just for a second. But that second was long enough for Henry to step forward and crack his knuckles, long enough for me to let the chain sway again, its hooks catching the dim light. “Okay, okay!” he blurted. “Name’s Travis Holt. Lives on the east side, runs with the Grey Pines crew. Drives a beat-up green pickup. I don’t know who he’s with, I don’t…”