I am writing a new story, and I have about three pages done so far. It would be awesome If you can read this and give me imput. DONT WORRY, THIS IS ONLY THE FIRST TWO PARAGRAPHS. (: _________________________________________________________
I hope it’s a dream, but I haven’t even fallen asleep yet. It was out of
the blue, nobody saw it coming. It almost seemed like it was planned,
but the note says differently. You wrote the note in a hurry, I could tell by your handwriting and because you wrote in red pen; you never ever write in red pen. Were you forced to write it?
It’s the morning of my mothers funeral. Where are you? Your weren’t home last night, then again, you haven’t been home for the past three nights. You have been saying that you were taking care of business and law stuff pertaining to her death. I believed you at first, but now your hiding something. You would never answer my calls or texts, and today doesn’t change that. If you miss her funeral, I will never forgive you. Its thirty minutes till we have to leave, and your still not home. I’m already waiting for you, the driveway gates open and its your car. You lazily drive up, and causally walk into the house.
“Where have you been? We need to leave or we’ll be late.” I said, honestly not caring where he has been, I just wanted to leave.
“Don’t worry about it, I just have to grab something and we can leave, get in the car.” He was hurried, trying to hide something in his pocket. I didn’t notice when he walked in, but he is all dressed. He’s clean, shaven, suit and tie, and is wearing cologne. I get into the car, and there is a smell. This smell is recurring, especially when he has been gone for awhile. I never have asked him what it is, because I don’t think I could handle the truth.
The funeral seemed like it lasted days. By the end, I couldn’t shed one more tear. As they ran down my face, I was running down memory lane; I was running towards you. I remembered all of the nights that it would just be me and her at home while my dad was at ‘work’. She would bring home Chinese food and movies. Those were the best, but those quickly faded away. The memories of her hurting, being tired, and sick came into mind. The time right before her death. It was like a spring flower that had bloomed for so long, died over night. I saw the flower dead, and should of watered it, but I just thought the flower will bloom again in the morning. I try not to think of the bad memories, it wont help at all.
