It wasn't how she imagined it would be like. She thought it would be sweet, and something she'd want to remember forever. She thought it would happen during a date with her crush, at the perfect moment, as he dropped her off at home, just before her dad came outside to see what what going on.
Instead, she had been told she wasn't allowed to go out anywhere with a boy til she was eighteen. Then she'd snuck out her window and dragged Denny out back to her old play house in the backyard. He kissed her first, and she enjoyed it. Then a spider dropped on her shoulder, causing her to scream, and fall backwards, knocking into whatever noisy clanky thing her father kept in there. This woke everyone up, and set the dogs barking.
Denny helped her back out, brushing off any stray cobwebs, and a couple spiders before she saw them. Moments later, both her parents were standing outside, both glaring. Red-faced, she walked over to them, finding great interest in her slipper clad feet. After a slight argument, in which her father lost, no punishment was announced, and she was allowed on a date the next weekend.
Not her dream first kiss, but it was certainly different. And she wouldn't change it for the world.
NOTE:
And this is the last prompt I have from 2010.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Tainted
Tears rolled down her face, and her arms were wrapped around her, trying to hold what was left of her together. She'd lost the battle. She was no longer that beautiful, innocent girl she was that morning. Her innocence was gone.
What was left was a hollow girl, the light gone from her eyes, reduced to a crying mess on his bedroom floor. She'd go on to live, though not surviving. Each day a battle, a battle to see if her pain would overcome her.
Each day she'd find, she got a little bit better. It wasnt a good way to forget.
To forget his sweet words, telling her he loved her, he'd never hurt her.
To forget his hand sliding up her leg, up her skirt.
To forget how he'd held her still, with only his weight against hers as he took what he wanted, not even thinking of the girl beneath him.
In the days after, she'd push it from her mind, and concentrate on making her family and her friends think she was happy. Normal.
At nights, the memories would push back into her mind, remaining as she fell asleep, giving her nightmares that no one ever knew about.
Months will go by, and sh'ed forget completely. Sh'ed meet some new friends, and they'd think she was happy too. But soon they'd learn the truth. Some would threaten to make Him ever regret doing what he did.
But they'd never get the chance.
The pain became too much for her, as she struggled alone. All it took were just a few pills. No one would notice, no one would care.
They'd all forget her, just as they'd done before.
What was left was a hollow girl, the light gone from her eyes, reduced to a crying mess on his bedroom floor. She'd go on to live, though not surviving. Each day a battle, a battle to see if her pain would overcome her.
Each day she'd find, she got a little bit better. It wasnt a good way to forget.
To forget his sweet words, telling her he loved her, he'd never hurt her.
To forget his hand sliding up her leg, up her skirt.
To forget how he'd held her still, with only his weight against hers as he took what he wanted, not even thinking of the girl beneath him.
In the days after, she'd push it from her mind, and concentrate on making her family and her friends think she was happy. Normal.
At nights, the memories would push back into her mind, remaining as she fell asleep, giving her nightmares that no one ever knew about.
Months will go by, and sh'ed forget completely. Sh'ed meet some new friends, and they'd think she was happy too. But soon they'd learn the truth. Some would threaten to make Him ever regret doing what he did.
But they'd never get the chance.
The pain became too much for her, as she struggled alone. All it took were just a few pills. No one would notice, no one would care.
They'd all forget her, just as they'd done before.
Murder
Twigs snapped, sending her heart into overdrive.
Quiet.
If she could just stop making so much noise, then maybe she could get away. Maybe she'd live to see another day.
More twigs breaking. The sound was getting closer and closer.
A hand over her mouth, trying to not make anymore noise. She held her breath for as long as she could.
The noise stopped. It was silent.
Maybe he was gone. Maybe she really would survive. Maybe he'd given up. Maybe she was underestimating him.
A pale face peeked around the tree. Pale blue eyes widened at the sight of the back of a leather jacket. She jerked her head back from the side of the tree. Praying she wouldn't be noticed.
He turned, making no noise. A piece of blonde hair stuck to the side of the tree. Careful to make no sudden noises, he walked forward, stopping on the other side of the tree.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she knew she was going to die. There was no way out. She'd given in.
A black gloved hand reached around, taking ahold of her arm. He pulled her out, throwing her to the ground.
She opened her eyes, and looked right at him. She was ready to die. She wanted it to end.
For the longest minute either of them had ever had, he stared at her. Memorizing how she looked.
"Sarah, I-"
She glared at him. "Don't you ever say my name again. Just kill me like you have all the others, I'm no better then any of them."
Her final words. He didn't hesitate in pulled out a gun, and shooting her.
He walked away. Nothing left to say to the one person he'd ever truly loved.
Quiet.
If she could just stop making so much noise, then maybe she could get away. Maybe she'd live to see another day.
More twigs breaking. The sound was getting closer and closer.
A hand over her mouth, trying to not make anymore noise. She held her breath for as long as she could.
The noise stopped. It was silent.
Maybe he was gone. Maybe she really would survive. Maybe he'd given up. Maybe she was underestimating him.
A pale face peeked around the tree. Pale blue eyes widened at the sight of the back of a leather jacket. She jerked her head back from the side of the tree. Praying she wouldn't be noticed.
He turned, making no noise. A piece of blonde hair stuck to the side of the tree. Careful to make no sudden noises, he walked forward, stopping on the other side of the tree.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she knew she was going to die. There was no way out. She'd given in.
A black gloved hand reached around, taking ahold of her arm. He pulled her out, throwing her to the ground.
She opened her eyes, and looked right at him. She was ready to die. She wanted it to end.
For the longest minute either of them had ever had, he stared at her. Memorizing how she looked.
"Sarah, I-"
She glared at him. "Don't you ever say my name again. Just kill me like you have all the others, I'm no better then any of them."
Her final words. He didn't hesitate in pulled out a gun, and shooting her.
He walked away. Nothing left to say to the one person he'd ever truly loved.
Alcohol
Bottles strewn around the room, all of them empty, all of them are beer of some kind. There are a couple unopened ones sitting on the counter, but they won't last long.
For as long as Alyssa could remember, this was her life. Her father drank all night, and slept all day, leaving his daughter to clean up the mess. So Alyssa did, if only to avoid the bruises she knew her father was capable of making on her skin.
After her mother had died only six years ago, the fifteen year old saw a drastic change in her life. She started high school on a bad note, and found herself in the principal's office more often then she saw her classrooms. Her grades were horrible, and her classmates were even more horrible.
More than once, Alyssa wondered what would happen if she were gone. Dead, or just running away, it didn't matter. She just wanted away from this life.
As she walked home again, this time with a letter from her school board, announcing her suspension from school, she felt life had put a heavy burden on her shoulders, one she couldn't hold up for much longer.
A bridge separated her from the road she lived on, and as she stopped to lean over the side, looking at the shallow water, she heard a couple of kids laughing, and riding skateboards down the street.
What she didn't expect were the warm hands that pressed against her back, making her lose her fall over the railing, down toward the river. She caught a sight of one of the kid's faces. She didn't recognize it.
She felt the cool water over her skin before she felt her head and back smack the rocks. When she tried to move her body to get up, she couldn't. As she started freaking out, the water slowly rose up, across her face, cutting off her air supply.
Panic hit her harder, and she continued to struggled, until finally she was too tired. As her sight disappeared into darkness, she realized something that made it not as bad.
It was her way out.
For as long as Alyssa could remember, this was her life. Her father drank all night, and slept all day, leaving his daughter to clean up the mess. So Alyssa did, if only to avoid the bruises she knew her father was capable of making on her skin.
After her mother had died only six years ago, the fifteen year old saw a drastic change in her life. She started high school on a bad note, and found herself in the principal's office more often then she saw her classrooms. Her grades were horrible, and her classmates were even more horrible.
More than once, Alyssa wondered what would happen if she were gone. Dead, or just running away, it didn't matter. She just wanted away from this life.
As she walked home again, this time with a letter from her school board, announcing her suspension from school, she felt life had put a heavy burden on her shoulders, one she couldn't hold up for much longer.
A bridge separated her from the road she lived on, and as she stopped to lean over the side, looking at the shallow water, she heard a couple of kids laughing, and riding skateboards down the street.
What she didn't expect were the warm hands that pressed against her back, making her lose her fall over the railing, down toward the river. She caught a sight of one of the kid's faces. She didn't recognize it.
She felt the cool water over her skin before she felt her head and back smack the rocks. When she tried to move her body to get up, she couldn't. As she started freaking out, the water slowly rose up, across her face, cutting off her air supply.
Panic hit her harder, and she continued to struggled, until finally she was too tired. As her sight disappeared into darkness, she realized something that made it not as bad.
It was her way out.
Blame
It's late at night when the sound of yelling wakes up the sleeping five year old. She sits up in bed, her red hair a tangle of curls on her head, and sleepy green eyes look around her dark room.
Kicking back her blankets, she slips off her bed, bare feet making no noise across the horrible red and black carpet. As she peers through the open door, and around the corner, she can clearly hear her mum and dad arguing. At first, this confuses her. Her parents didn't argue, they loved each other, and they loved their kids.
Out loud, she calls for her mum, and the arguing stops and a tall woman with curly blonde hair comes around the corner, a small smile of her face. She picks up her daughter, asking what she was doing awake, then proceeds to tuck the small girl back in bed.
Every night for nearly four months, her parents argue until finally one day, her dad announces that he's got a business trip he needs to go on, and will be away for a while. When asked if she could go too, the five year old was told sternly, "It's only for a short while, Ellie, and I'll be home before you know it."
A week later, Ellie woke up to a loud crash. Thinking there was a monster, at first she cowered under her mum's blanket, but then her thought's turned to her baby brother. So forcing herself up, she marched into the living room, intent on protecting her brother. Instead of the scene she was expecting, what Ellie saw instead was her mother sitting on the floor, crying, a kitchen chair was thrown across the room.
Wrapping her small arms around her mum's, she realized the truth of what was going on. Her dad had lied. He was gone. He was never coming back. For weeks after, he mother constantly told her that it wasn't Ellie's fault. But it was. She didn't know how, just was. Maybe if she'd been good, and hadn't been such a brat, or maybe if she had done better in school, and not tried to get in trouble so much.
It was her fault her baby brother wouldn't have a dad.
NOTE:
Another thing that really happened. This is actually a memory of my own, I just changed the name. My parents divorced when I was a child, and I always thought it was my fault, that I didn't behave enough for my dad to still love me.
Kicking back her blankets, she slips off her bed, bare feet making no noise across the horrible red and black carpet. As she peers through the open door, and around the corner, she can clearly hear her mum and dad arguing. At first, this confuses her. Her parents didn't argue, they loved each other, and they loved their kids.
Out loud, she calls for her mum, and the arguing stops and a tall woman with curly blonde hair comes around the corner, a small smile of her face. She picks up her daughter, asking what she was doing awake, then proceeds to tuck the small girl back in bed.
Every night for nearly four months, her parents argue until finally one day, her dad announces that he's got a business trip he needs to go on, and will be away for a while. When asked if she could go too, the five year old was told sternly, "It's only for a short while, Ellie, and I'll be home before you know it."
A week later, Ellie woke up to a loud crash. Thinking there was a monster, at first she cowered under her mum's blanket, but then her thought's turned to her baby brother. So forcing herself up, she marched into the living room, intent on protecting her brother. Instead of the scene she was expecting, what Ellie saw instead was her mother sitting on the floor, crying, a kitchen chair was thrown across the room.
Wrapping her small arms around her mum's, she realized the truth of what was going on. Her dad had lied. He was gone. He was never coming back. For weeks after, he mother constantly told her that it wasn't Ellie's fault. But it was. She didn't know how, just was. Maybe if she'd been good, and hadn't been such a brat, or maybe if she had done better in school, and not tried to get in trouble so much.
It was her fault her baby brother wouldn't have a dad.
NOTE:
Another thing that really happened. This is actually a memory of my own, I just changed the name. My parents divorced when I was a child, and I always thought it was my fault, that I didn't behave enough for my dad to still love me.
Ostrich
We never learn about them in school, and they are hardly mentioned on tv, but in my house, we've got a really old picture hanging above the mantle. It's a family member from the 1820s of someone on my mother's side wearing a hat with ostrich feathers, and a young girl clinging to her arm. Then there was my great grandpa who lived in Florida who had an ostrich drawn cart. I wish I had more then just a photo of that.
Papa used to own a farm too, but he sold it after just a few years because Nana didn't like them. That was before even my dad was born, and even he used to say that he was disappointed that Nana disliked the farm.
Would it be strange if I said that I was one day going to have my own ostrich farm? I promised Papa, and my dad that I would. Nana will be frowning on me from Heaven, or at least that's what Leah, my big sister says. She follows Nana's rules to a T.
But back to my dream. It's strange to say the least, most kids my age wanna be actors, or singers, but I'm the only one who does. At least Teddy agrees.
Papa used to own a farm too, but he sold it after just a few years because Nana didn't like them. That was before even my dad was born, and even he used to say that he was disappointed that Nana disliked the farm.
Would it be strange if I said that I was one day going to have my own ostrich farm? I promised Papa, and my dad that I would. Nana will be frowning on me from Heaven, or at least that's what Leah, my big sister says. She follows Nana's rules to a T.
But back to my dream. It's strange to say the least, most kids my age wanna be actors, or singers, but I'm the only one who does. At least Teddy agrees.
Apple
Opening my lunch, I peer in, analyzing everything that had been placed neatly inside. A ham sandwich, a granola bar, a couple of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the dreaded fruit… This time it happened to be an apple.
Everyday, I faced the same dilemma. A fruit I disliked. At least now, my mother gave up on packing oranges, I couldn't stand those, not the colour, or the taste, and especially not the smell. Apples on the other hand, I disliked, but I could stand to force one down.
As I glanced around the noisy classroom, I noticed the teacher smiling sweetly at me. Her look translated to 'you'd-better-eat-everything-in-your-lunch-today-or-I'm-going-to-call-your-mother-again'. Yesterday, when I walked home through the snow, my mother had been waiting for me, her arms crossed, and an annoyed look on her face. She'd asked me why I'd traded my apple for someone's banana, and I was forced yet again, to explain that banana's were my favourite fruit, not apples.
Yet again, I lost the argument. So today, it was an apple. I took a bite of the crunchy fruit, and quickly finished the dreaded thing, and moved on to my cookies.
No phone call tonight, I thought smugly.
Everyday, I faced the same dilemma. A fruit I disliked. At least now, my mother gave up on packing oranges, I couldn't stand those, not the colour, or the taste, and especially not the smell. Apples on the other hand, I disliked, but I could stand to force one down.
As I glanced around the noisy classroom, I noticed the teacher smiling sweetly at me. Her look translated to 'you'd-better-eat-everything-in-your-lunch-today-or-I'm-going-to-call-your-mother-again'. Yesterday, when I walked home through the snow, my mother had been waiting for me, her arms crossed, and an annoyed look on her face. She'd asked me why I'd traded my apple for someone's banana, and I was forced yet again, to explain that banana's were my favourite fruit, not apples.
Yet again, I lost the argument. So today, it was an apple. I took a bite of the crunchy fruit, and quickly finished the dreaded thing, and moved on to my cookies.
No phone call tonight, I thought smugly.
Orange
Remember being in public school, and at the beginning of every year the teachers would do fun little games so they could get to know you a little better (they still do this in high school) and one of the questions were always'What's your favourite colour?' ?
The kid next to you is furiously filling in the questions in a messy scrawl, and you look back at you're your own paper, and you've only filled in your name. The first question just happens to be the colour one. At first you write in orange, then after a minute, you erase it and fill in another colour, and erase that. Then ten minutes later, it's back to orange.
Then you move on to the other questions, each one taking several minutes to answer. When you look around the room, and you are sighing with relief that you aren't the only one who didn't only take ten minutes on the sheet. The teacher sees you and smiles, and you think that she's hoping that you take another ten minutes on it so she can avoid trying to get the class's attention for a few more minutes.
As you get older, the question doesn't get any easier, and every year it starts to get a little more annoying to come up with the answers. By the time you reach high school, you're now just scrawling answers in, trying to make it seem like you are sincere in your answers. But the truth is, they have over used the questions. But throughout the past ten years, orange was always your favourite colour.
The kid next to you is furiously filling in the questions in a messy scrawl, and you look back at you're your own paper, and you've only filled in your name. The first question just happens to be the colour one. At first you write in orange, then after a minute, you erase it and fill in another colour, and erase that. Then ten minutes later, it's back to orange.
Then you move on to the other questions, each one taking several minutes to answer. When you look around the room, and you are sighing with relief that you aren't the only one who didn't only take ten minutes on the sheet. The teacher sees you and smiles, and you think that she's hoping that you take another ten minutes on it so she can avoid trying to get the class's attention for a few more minutes.
As you get older, the question doesn't get any easier, and every year it starts to get a little more annoying to come up with the answers. By the time you reach high school, you're now just scrawling answers in, trying to make it seem like you are sincere in your answers. But the truth is, they have over used the questions. But throughout the past ten years, orange was always your favourite colour.
New Life
I walked into the almost empty coffee shop, almost empty, because not including the waitress, there was only an older man sitting with a newspaper, sipping at a cup of coffee. I took a seat near the door, where I could see almost the entire room.
It didn't take long for the waitress, a young smiling woman with blonde hair in a bob style, to walk over to me, and ask what I wanted.
Coffee, I told her. That's all. I wasn't hungry, I just wanted to walk around this new, unfamiliar town, get used to the feel of it. While I waited for my cup of coffee, I glanced again at the old man. He smiled at me, then gestured at the table. I nodded my head, and the man got up, and with his cup, came and sat down opposite me.
What's your name? was the first thing he asked, and I answered almost right away. Lysandra Pyfer, new person in town. He introduced himself as Raymond Castle, the man who owned the local grocery store.
It didn't take me long to open up to this man, he was friendly, and seemed eager to learn about me. I told him about my old town, and how I used to write all the newspaper articles for the town. It was fairly small, so there wasn't much news to begin with, we mostly covered things the local high school did, and any community events.
He asked about my family, who they were, and where they were from. I answered with a lie I had come up with prior to moving. My mum and dad lived in England, and my baby sister, Jacklyn, went to a boarding school in Ireland. In reality though, I had no family. They all abandoned me as a baby. I hated the people who adopted me, and was quite glad to learn of their untimely demise two years past.
When he asked why I moved there, I almost gave in and told the truth, but where would that get me? Probably stuck in a police station somewhere, explaining to the police why my ex boyfriend was on my bedroom floor, a pair of safety scissors in his neck. Instead, I told him that I wanted a fresh start, which was still true.
We sat for almost two hours, sipping on coffee and talking. Though the more we talked, the more I felt guilty about lying. It wasn't one of my strong points to keep a secret, and this one was proving to be just as difficult as every other secret I'd kept. Like my best friend getting pregnant at sixteen, and she'd asked me not to tell anyone, or when I was seventeen, and I started smoking.
Soon though, Raymond announced that he had to leave, and welcomed me to the town once more before he paid for both our coffees and left. I didn't stick around the coffee shop, instead leaving for my new apartment.
Inside, instead of feeling freedom, I felt small, and crushed. The house was suffocating me. Who knew that lying to one old man, would make someone feel like this.
I wanted it to end. I wanted the guilt to end. As I looked around my apartment, my eyes landed on one thing that would help me. My sleeping pills. A long nap, that's all it would take.
As I dumped some of the small white pills into my hand, I swallowed two of them. Then after five minutes, I wasn't sleepy yet, so I swallowed two more. It continued until I'd downed almost eighteen.
Now I was feeling tired. I slumped over to the side, my head was resting on the cool linoleum, and darkness swept over me. The memory of my ex boyfriends blank face filled my mind, and it was the last thing I would ever see.
It didn't take long for the waitress, a young smiling woman with blonde hair in a bob style, to walk over to me, and ask what I wanted.
Coffee, I told her. That's all. I wasn't hungry, I just wanted to walk around this new, unfamiliar town, get used to the feel of it. While I waited for my cup of coffee, I glanced again at the old man. He smiled at me, then gestured at the table. I nodded my head, and the man got up, and with his cup, came and sat down opposite me.
What's your name? was the first thing he asked, and I answered almost right away. Lysandra Pyfer, new person in town. He introduced himself as Raymond Castle, the man who owned the local grocery store.
It didn't take me long to open up to this man, he was friendly, and seemed eager to learn about me. I told him about my old town, and how I used to write all the newspaper articles for the town. It was fairly small, so there wasn't much news to begin with, we mostly covered things the local high school did, and any community events.
He asked about my family, who they were, and where they were from. I answered with a lie I had come up with prior to moving. My mum and dad lived in England, and my baby sister, Jacklyn, went to a boarding school in Ireland. In reality though, I had no family. They all abandoned me as a baby. I hated the people who adopted me, and was quite glad to learn of their untimely demise two years past.
When he asked why I moved there, I almost gave in and told the truth, but where would that get me? Probably stuck in a police station somewhere, explaining to the police why my ex boyfriend was on my bedroom floor, a pair of safety scissors in his neck. Instead, I told him that I wanted a fresh start, which was still true.
We sat for almost two hours, sipping on coffee and talking. Though the more we talked, the more I felt guilty about lying. It wasn't one of my strong points to keep a secret, and this one was proving to be just as difficult as every other secret I'd kept. Like my best friend getting pregnant at sixteen, and she'd asked me not to tell anyone, or when I was seventeen, and I started smoking.
Soon though, Raymond announced that he had to leave, and welcomed me to the town once more before he paid for both our coffees and left. I didn't stick around the coffee shop, instead leaving for my new apartment.
Inside, instead of feeling freedom, I felt small, and crushed. The house was suffocating me. Who knew that lying to one old man, would make someone feel like this.
I wanted it to end. I wanted the guilt to end. As I looked around my apartment, my eyes landed on one thing that would help me. My sleeping pills. A long nap, that's all it would take.
As I dumped some of the small white pills into my hand, I swallowed two of them. Then after five minutes, I wasn't sleepy yet, so I swallowed two more. It continued until I'd downed almost eighteen.
Now I was feeling tired. I slumped over to the side, my head was resting on the cool linoleum, and darkness swept over me. The memory of my ex boyfriends blank face filled my mind, and it was the last thing I would ever see.
A teardrop is insignificant in a pool of water, but it can touch the soul as it runs down someone's face.
The funeral wasn't for anyone she really knew. It was for a girl at school who had fallen into a coma, and after forty-eight hours, her parents pulled the plug, knowing their daughter would never wake up.
Half the school were bawling their eyes out, less than a quarter of them knew the girl. The rest of the school were consoling their friends.
Sixteen year old Anna McLean was counted among the consoling friends. She's agreed to come to the funeral in support of her best friend, Samantha Rose. The church was full of people who were just sitting there quietly, people sniffling, and a few who were outright crying.
Beside Anna, with her mass of curly red hair blocking her face, Samantha was one of the few who were outright crying.
The dead girl, Jennifer, had been a very close friend of Samantha's, almost like an older sister. The two had spent most of their time together, until a year before, when Jen had started hanging around kids who smoked weed all day long.
The day at school, when they were told about Jen having a heart attack, and hitting her head on the ground, therefore going into a coma, Samantha had left her class, running to the bathroom to wash her red, splotchy face, make her skin go back to being normal. Anna had run into her on the way there, and the two spent ten minutes in the hallway, with Samantha crying into Anna's shoulder. Not even the principal told them to get back to class.
Two days later, they were told about Jen passing away the night before. Once again, Anna found herself consoling her best friend. The way that Anna acted, it seemed like she didn't care, but she did, but she didn't know how to react to this, and completely denied the fact that it was happening.
Samantha on the other hand, realized it was happening, and though she never cried in front of people, did so for the first time in ten years, she actually sat down and cried. With people in the room.
Four days later was the funeral. Samantha had begged Anna to go, because she needed the support, but while there, she rejected anything meant to be comforting. Throughout the entire funeral, she just stared at the pictures being projected on the wall, not paying attention to the people talking, not until Jen's niece and nephew got up.
The two had written a poem for their aunt, and read it out loud, whrn they were done, they went to sit down. You could see, Sarah, Jen's little niece, crying, and the sight of the four year old touched everyone's souls. It wasn't fair that a child that young should have to deal with someone so close to them dying.
Fate is cruel, forcing that.
The ending song, a hymn, that Jen had loved, set most people into tears, as the song was about love, and life.
Live. Laugh. Love.
That was Jen's favourite quote, Samantha's too, both girls adopted it the same day, years ago.
Death ends a life, but not a relationship.
NOTE:
This was actually based off something that really happened. One of my best friends, someone I considered an older sister, died of heart complications. Her parents had to make the hard decision to let her go, she had no brain activity while in her coma. There's now a tree planted outside the front doors to my school that's dedicated to her. And another one beside it dedicated to another boy who died that year.
Half the school were bawling their eyes out, less than a quarter of them knew the girl. The rest of the school were consoling their friends.
Sixteen year old Anna McLean was counted among the consoling friends. She's agreed to come to the funeral in support of her best friend, Samantha Rose. The church was full of people who were just sitting there quietly, people sniffling, and a few who were outright crying.
Beside Anna, with her mass of curly red hair blocking her face, Samantha was one of the few who were outright crying.
The dead girl, Jennifer, had been a very close friend of Samantha's, almost like an older sister. The two had spent most of their time together, until a year before, when Jen had started hanging around kids who smoked weed all day long.
The day at school, when they were told about Jen having a heart attack, and hitting her head on the ground, therefore going into a coma, Samantha had left her class, running to the bathroom to wash her red, splotchy face, make her skin go back to being normal. Anna had run into her on the way there, and the two spent ten minutes in the hallway, with Samantha crying into Anna's shoulder. Not even the principal told them to get back to class.
Two days later, they were told about Jen passing away the night before. Once again, Anna found herself consoling her best friend. The way that Anna acted, it seemed like she didn't care, but she did, but she didn't know how to react to this, and completely denied the fact that it was happening.
Samantha on the other hand, realized it was happening, and though she never cried in front of people, did so for the first time in ten years, she actually sat down and cried. With people in the room.
Four days later was the funeral. Samantha had begged Anna to go, because she needed the support, but while there, she rejected anything meant to be comforting. Throughout the entire funeral, she just stared at the pictures being projected on the wall, not paying attention to the people talking, not until Jen's niece and nephew got up.
The two had written a poem for their aunt, and read it out loud, whrn they were done, they went to sit down. You could see, Sarah, Jen's little niece, crying, and the sight of the four year old touched everyone's souls. It wasn't fair that a child that young should have to deal with someone so close to them dying.
Fate is cruel, forcing that.
The ending song, a hymn, that Jen had loved, set most people into tears, as the song was about love, and life.
Live. Laugh. Love.
That was Jen's favourite quote, Samantha's too, both girls adopted it the same day, years ago.
Death ends a life, but not a relationship.
NOTE:
This was actually based off something that really happened. One of my best friends, someone I considered an older sister, died of heart complications. Her parents had to make the hard decision to let her go, she had no brain activity while in her coma. There's now a tree planted outside the front doors to my school that's dedicated to her. And another one beside it dedicated to another boy who died that year.
Cartoon
Saturday mornings held a lot of memories, memories of waking up at seven in the morning just to sit in front of the television for hours watching cartoons. Even as I grew older, I continued with the early mornings, rewatching everything I'd seen from the age of three.
When I turned thirteen, those memories stopped. Why? Because I thought that as a teenager, I was too old to watch cartoons anymore. I regret this decision. It was a stupid mistake, but I cannot find it in myself to take back what I said, and go join my family. I have far too much pride in me for that.
So instead, I'll sit here in the kitchen where I can hear the tv, but no longer see the moving pictures that I used to love as a child.
NOTE:
Some small word prompts I wrote in 2010. Several more to follow.
When I turned thirteen, those memories stopped. Why? Because I thought that as a teenager, I was too old to watch cartoons anymore. I regret this decision. It was a stupid mistake, but I cannot find it in myself to take back what I said, and go join my family. I have far too much pride in me for that.
So instead, I'll sit here in the kitchen where I can hear the tv, but no longer see the moving pictures that I used to love as a child.
NOTE:
Some small word prompts I wrote in 2010. Several more to follow.