The magical orange turban

Everyday, when I wake up, I have to get straight to work. My parents are ill and can’t take care of my siblings and me. So I do all the housework, get all the food and water, and I take care of my many brothers and sisters…for I am the oldest. When I woke up one morning, I got into my daily schedule…make my bed, clean my room, clean the bathrooms, then all the other rooms, and then…onto my parents bedroom.
I silently stepped into the dark, soundless room. I didn’t dare flick the lights on, just in case they were sleeping. I went over to the bed, and found my mother, motionless on the bed. Her face looked dead. No emotion behind her old, ageing eyes.
It took me a few minutes to register that my mother was dead. And my father was no were to be seen. I left the room in a hurry.
I told my Brother, who was the second oldest, that he was in charge. Like any annoying sibling, he asked where I was going. So I told him the whole horrible story. How mother died and father is missing. My brother, moot, asked how mother died. And I didn’t know, because I didn’t check. Moot went into the room, to check things out.
I heard something rustling behind the curtain, so I followed him in. I stayed at the door, because I’m a big chicken. While Moot walked across to room to the big king bed by the window, I stood guard at the door. Moot lifted the blanket and a puzzled expression crossed his face. I left the room, telling Moot that I had chores to finish.
Once I got out of the room I packed my bag and got onto my dog. I put on the magical orange turban of wannahawkaloogie…and flew away to find my father, just as the snow began to fall.