Guest Blogger Jordan Stinnett

This week I’d like to welcome Jordan Stinnett as my guest. She’s written a very good story, one that has a valuable lesson woven into it. Jordan warned me that the end of the story is kind of PG-13. I found it to be tragic. I will leave the ending for your imagination to fill in. At the end of the story I’ve tagged a couple of websites that are helpful if you are ever involved in a domestic violence situation. Thanks for sharing Jordan.


Jordan Stinnett

Tenth Grade

East Carteret High School


My Summer at Silver Lake

How could this be happening? I can’t believe it. I was captivated by his lies. Swept off my feet. I knew it was too good to be true. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does. No one can save me now.

Summer, it was finally here. I’m almost bursting with excitement. Today was my last day with my mom. You see, when I was 6, my parents split. They had differences in life and what they wanted out of it. My father, Jack, was more of an easy-going free spirit. My mom wanted to settle down and have a big family. So, she moved to Arizona with her sister, Meredith, while my father stayed in Minnesota. He lives in a small town, barely anyone around, but I love it there. What can I say? I miss him. Only seeing him every other summer makes missing him that much harder. But anyways I just got finished packing. I’m staying for 3 months, so I’m double checking everything I need.

“Haley! We have to get to the airport! We’re late.” Mom thunderously yelled.

“All right Mom. Coming”.

I fumble down the steps with my luggage, almost tripping. Great, Aunt Meredith is driving. It’s not that I don’t like her. I mean she’s family. But she always has something negative to say about Dad.

Thirty minutes of non-stop Meredith talking on the way to the airport. She should really get her own talk show. I don’t think she would ever run out of things to say. As we pull up I rush into the huge, glassy doors and hurry to get in line. They quickly check my bags and I get seated on the plane. I get a seat to myself, luckily. Across the aisle from me, I see a girl about my age, 16. She has brown shiny hair to her mid-back. Gosh, she had the deepest brown eyes I have ever seen. I noticed she was wearing the same blue, lacy tank top as I was.

“Hey, nice top,” I said to her with a warm smile.

“Thanks! Same to your self,” she replied.

“My name’s Amber, nice to meet you.”

She seemed super nice so we quickly became friends. I found out that she happened to be going to the same Minnesotan town I was. Her mother lives there, her father died when she was 3. Surprisingly, we have a lot in common. We love Italian food, Taylor Swift, and Nicholas Sparks love stories. We talked for the entire flight; at the end we exchanged phone numbers.

When I stepped off the plane and gave Amber a hug goodbye I immediately scanned the airport for a sign of my dad. I walked to the center, where a sign read Welcome to Silver Lake, Minnesota. The walls were a welcoming shade of peach, odd for an airport, but it felt like home to me. Fliers covered the walls for announcements of town dances and fairs. Just as I began to read one for The Annual Silver Lake Fairfest, someone wrapped their arms around my back. I turned around shocked with fear, only to see the blue joyful eyes of my father staring down at me.

“I sure did miss you, ladybug.”

He has called me that since I was a kid, and I almost cried with happiness at the sound of his voice.

“Oh Daddy, I missed you!”

After our greetings of, how’s Arizona been? And, how’s your mother? He picked up my luggage and ushered me to the parking lot. It was nice to see his familiar Carolina blue pickup in the lot. He only lived about 10 minutes down the road, but we seemed to be in the car for at least 25.

“Dad, where are we going?” I skeptically ask.

“Do you remember Fred’s Diner, just down the road from the Laundromat?” He replies.

Not at all remembering I say, “Oh yeah, of course”.

Watching images of trees and cottages fly by me out the window we head to the diner. As we walk in we are greeted by our waiter, gosh, wasn’t he handsome? His soft, blonde hair with tinges of light brown made me melt. He had deep greenish-blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean. His nametag read: Hello, my name is Luke. But I wasn’t looking at the nametag but rather his muscular arms about to pop out of his shirt. As we got seated, I don’t remember a thing about dinner, just him. I barely touched my food, or held a substantial conversation with Dad. He was the only thing on my mind.

The next few days with Dad were great. I even asked him if we could go to the Fairfest in the fairgrounds Friday at noon. He said he had to work, but I was free to go and enjoy myself.

Friday morning, I straightened my golden blonde hair and let it flow down my back. It was very hot outside so I chose a yellow tank top and some daisy duke cut-off shorts. I ran downstairs and grabbed an apple for breakfast, and headed out the door. Amber met me there, and we decided to play some games. We had been playing the test your strength game when a group of guys got in line behind us. Amber barely hit it at all, even exerting all her force. It was my turn. I slammed down the rock hard mallet and the bell dinged, huh I guess I’m stronger than I thought. I recognized one of the guys behind us; I could remember those eyes anywhere. It was Luke.

He walked over to me and said, “Hey, I was just wondering if maybe sometime you would want to hang out? Maybe do something fun this evening?”

I was too giddy to speak. So Amber spoke up and said, “We would love to,” with a smile.

“Alright see you guys at the beach under the pier at 10?”

We agreed and continued our day with cheesy prizes and cotton candy. Amber came back to my house to get ready, and then we headed for the pier.

The moonlight danced off the ocean waves and shone beautifully on the sand. As we approached the pier we saw about 5 guys around a fire.

“Hey, glad ya’ll could make it,” one of Luke’s friends called to us.

They all had beer. And a few were smoking. All I noticed were Luke’s handsome eyes.

We sat down and one kid looked at Amber and said, “Hey baby, how’s about me and you have a little fun?” And tried to give her a forceful, sloppy kiss.

“Haley, I’m leaving, get away from me creep.”

As we got up to leave, repulsed, I heard Luke say, “Where do you think you’re going? There’s no leaving now.”

I turned around and saw a flash of silver as he pulled out a knife. He grabbed me by the arm with a firm grip and dragged me, kicking and screaming to the beach house beside the pier….



The rest of Jordan’s story paints a very ugly picture of what might happen if you trust the wrong people. Never go to private locations with someone you don’t know. Stay with a crowd you know.




*National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 or www.ndvh.org


*Help for Teens, “Love Doesn’t Have to Hurt”,

www.apa.org/pi/families/resources/love-teens.pdf




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