Don't even know where this came from. It kind of started out as a dream I had the other day, but then I remembered a question I had about this story and decided to explain how Amelia died.
I shouldn't be up this late…it does weird things to my brain.
A sudden jolting impact shook the car. Headlights flashed, blurry in the corner of her widening eyes, rendering her temporarily blind. The screeching scream of metal against metal rose above the wails of pain ripped from her throat, mingling terribly with the horrified gasps arising from onlookers’ cars.
Sudden fiery pain raced through her body, accompanying the sudden collision. Limbs locked and knuckles white, she released a terrible, agonized scream into the night.
The tense tranquil of the hospital room was nearly too much to handle. Hannah stared, wide-eyed and shocked, at the disastrous mess that was Amelia. Her face was sunken and sallow, giving her a lifeless appearance. Protruding from her skull unnaturally, Amelia’s roughly repaired jaw only added to the skeletal aura about her.
A weak, tearful hiccup disrupted the taut silence, making Hannah jump. It took her a moment to realize that it was she who had made the noise. Her face felt oddly wet, and she put a hand to her cheek to discover a steady stream of tears drizzling down it. Inhaling in a choking sort of way, she lowered her shaky hand and resumed her silent vigil.
Beep, beep, beep. The monotonous chime of the heart monitor was a welcome relief from utter silence to Hannah, an incessant reminder that there was still hope for her misfortunate friend. The only additional sound was an occasional raspy exhale from Amelia herself, to which Hannah’s heart leapt hopefully. Time after time, however, her shaky optimism was unrewarded. Seconds, minutes, hours passed with no change in Amelia’s condition.
After what could have been either centuries or merely a few scarce moments, a gentle touch to her shoulder startled Hannah out of her horrified trance. She stared, eyes wide and wet with tears, into her mother’s comforting gaze.
“Come on, sweetie,” she murmured softly. “We have to go home.”
“N-no,” Hannah tried to protest. “Amelia’s…”
“I know.” Mrs. Jones half-smiled in an attempt to persuade her. “I know, sweetie. But staying here and losing sleep won’t help her get better. You have to stay healthy, too.”
“But —”
“Listen, sweetheart. Amelia’s gonna be okay. You’ll see her again tomorrow. Just trust me on this, alright?”
Reluctantly, Hannah allowed herself to be led into the elevator, through the lobby, and into her father’s white Sedan. She stared unblinkingly at the back of her mother’s headrest, wishing that life would be simple and happy. Her wish went unnoticed, apparently, as her father chose that moment to swerve and consequently knock her head against the window next to her.
A horrible, pounding headache resonated behind her eyes, threatening to worsen Hannah’s day even more. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to escape the distressing world around her, and allowed the soothing sway of the car to lull her into a restless slumber.
“Hannah…Hannah, baby, wake up.”
The teenager groaned pitifully, rubbing at her eyes to ward off the light. “Dun wanna. Sleepy.” She had been having a wonderful dream, where everything was back to normal and Amelia was healthy as ever. Upset at having to leave her dreamland, Hannah managed a grumpy pout. “Go ‘way.”
“Hannah Grace Jones, wake up now!”
Surprised at the urgency in her mother’s voice, she opened her eyes and sat up. “Mom?”
Mrs. Jones was wide-eyed and wild-haired, a fearful expression etched across her graceful features. She looked horribly upset, and Hannah felt her stomach drop with apprehension.
“Hannah, sweetie, I’m sorry, so sorry…” her mother mumbled, jaw shaking.
“Mom!! What’s wrong? What happened??”
“Amelia. She’s dead.”
With those three simple words, Hannah’s world abruptly stopped.
Life blurred indistinctly, vague images flying around her at a speed to great for her to comprehend. The only escape from the tumultuous cyclone was anger.
“You promised I’d see her again!! You promised!!” she screamed, fingers clenching into fists.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I know…”
“It’s your fault, Mom. Somehow, it’s your fault, I swear.”
“That’s not fair! How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t make it through the night?!!”
“Shut up!! Just shut up, please.” Hannah’s voice lowered to a croaking whisper, her eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears.
“Hannah…oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do…Hannah?”
There was no response. No words would do at that moment. Instead, Hannah meekly embraced the silence.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Goodbye
Wow. This is even more depressing than usual. Did you guys like it? Leave a comment, please!
A heavy silence spread over the graveyard, broken only by the scuffling of small animals as well as the occasional despondent sniffle. Thick as the dreary fog that shrouded the area, the sinister quiet dug its stubborn way into the hearts of those present.
The freshly laid gravestone was surrounded by an ocean of black; the dark clothes were an attempt to demonstrate the misery felt by the family and friends of the newly deceased. Bulky black coats were little protection against the aura of sorrow and lifelessness that filled the graveyard.
Hannah Jones’s hands were shaking, eyes wide and fearful. Never before had she experienced such strong feelings as this. Her best friend had passed. The beautiful and caring Amelia Braddock, once jovial and free-spirited, was no more.
Just three days prior, the closest of friends had been planning and plotting their next slumber party together. They had anticipated a weekend of careless fun, of blindfolded makeovers, of truth or dare and gossiping about the new hot transfer student.
It was hard to believe that Hannah would never share a sleepover with Amelia again. She shivered, wanting, no, begging for the misery and shock to be gone. Her heart felt hollow, as if she’d never fully recover from the horrible sight of seeing her best friend in a coffin, pale as snow.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she couldn’t take the agony. Amelia wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. She was merely fifteen; the two of them were supposed to go to college together, and dorm together, and grow up together! This nonsense about Amelia’s being dead was a lie. It couldn’t be true. Amelia wasn’t dead.
A lone tear slipped from her squinted eyes, triggering a sudden but steady flow of teardrops streaming down her cheeks. Her hands shook. Her lip shook. Amelia wasn’t dead.
A speaker’s voice, mournful and low, shattered the quavering silence that had cloaked the graveyard. His words were unfamiliar to Hannah; the man spoke of paradise and better places. He lied, Hannah knew. Nothing could be happy right now.
The world seemed to blur around her. When she finally forced herself to return from her numb world of dreary comfort, Hannah found that she had been left alone with the corpse. No, not the corpse. Amelia. Amelia wasn’t dead.
Trembling, the teenager took a hesitant step towards her friend. Amelia’s face was very nearly blue. She looked as if she were merely sleeping, and Hannah wished she could believe so. Amelia looked tranquil and content. It was almost unnatural seeing her best friend without a hyper grin stretching across her face.
“Amelia?” Hannah whispered, voice hoarse and grating. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry that we couldn’t grow up together. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be praying for you.
“I have to go now. My mom is probably going crazy looking for me, but you know how she is. She’ll have forgotten about it by dinner.” She released a dry, lifeless laugh. “I’m gonna miss you, Amelia.”
Blood roared in her ears. Every instinct in her body told Hannah not to leave, to stay by Amelia’s side forever, but she knew she couldn’t do so.
Heart pounding, soul empty, she got to her feet and left.
A heavy silence spread over the graveyard, broken only by the scuffling of small animals as well as the occasional despondent sniffle. Thick as the dreary fog that shrouded the area, the sinister quiet dug its stubborn way into the hearts of those present.
The freshly laid gravestone was surrounded by an ocean of black; the dark clothes were an attempt to demonstrate the misery felt by the family and friends of the newly deceased. Bulky black coats were little protection against the aura of sorrow and lifelessness that filled the graveyard.
Hannah Jones’s hands were shaking, eyes wide and fearful. Never before had she experienced such strong feelings as this. Her best friend had passed. The beautiful and caring Amelia Braddock, once jovial and free-spirited, was no more.
Just three days prior, the closest of friends had been planning and plotting their next slumber party together. They had anticipated a weekend of careless fun, of blindfolded makeovers, of truth or dare and gossiping about the new hot transfer student.
It was hard to believe that Hannah would never share a sleepover with Amelia again. She shivered, wanting, no, begging for the misery and shock to be gone. Her heart felt hollow, as if she’d never fully recover from the horrible sight of seeing her best friend in a coffin, pale as snow.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she couldn’t take the agony. Amelia wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. She was merely fifteen; the two of them were supposed to go to college together, and dorm together, and grow up together! This nonsense about Amelia’s being dead was a lie. It couldn’t be true. Amelia wasn’t dead.
A lone tear slipped from her squinted eyes, triggering a sudden but steady flow of teardrops streaming down her cheeks. Her hands shook. Her lip shook. Amelia wasn’t dead.
A speaker’s voice, mournful and low, shattered the quavering silence that had cloaked the graveyard. His words were unfamiliar to Hannah; the man spoke of paradise and better places. He lied, Hannah knew. Nothing could be happy right now.
The world seemed to blur around her. When she finally forced herself to return from her numb world of dreary comfort, Hannah found that she had been left alone with the corpse. No, not the corpse. Amelia. Amelia wasn’t dead.
Trembling, the teenager took a hesitant step towards her friend. Amelia’s face was very nearly blue. She looked as if she were merely sleeping, and Hannah wished she could believe so. Amelia looked tranquil and content. It was almost unnatural seeing her best friend without a hyper grin stretching across her face.
“Amelia?” Hannah whispered, voice hoarse and grating. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry that we couldn’t grow up together. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be praying for you.
“I have to go now. My mom is probably going crazy looking for me, but you know how she is. She’ll have forgotten about it by dinner.” She released a dry, lifeless laugh. “I’m gonna miss you, Amelia.”
Blood roared in her ears. Every instinct in her body told Hannah not to leave, to stay by Amelia’s side forever, but she knew she couldn’t do so.
Heart pounding, soul empty, she got to her feet and left.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Send Help to Your Children, Oh God
To the man who ended nearly thirty lives yesterday, including those of many young children:
Are you satisfied with your deeds, I ask? Has your lust for blood been sated with the murder of many innocents?
You were not in your own right mind when you committed this abhorrent crime, I realize. But who, save for yourself, is to blame for consuming the drugs and medication that weakened your resolve and allowed the Devil to control your actions?
There is a woman who, until yesterday, served as a kindergarten teacher at the school you assaulted. Her name was Victoria, and she sacrificed herself in order to keep her students safe from you. After the school had executed lockdown, she ordered the children in her classroom to hide in the cubbyholes where they stored their jackets. She herself did not try to hide, but instead accepted her fate as she protected their lives. You shot her, but did not discover even one of her students who heeded the brave woman's advice.
As if these monstrosities were insufficient, you even took the lives of your own parents. Your mother, a worker at the school you rampaged, was shot to death at your own hand.
I wonder what thoughts ran through your mind before you put a bullet through your own head. Did you feel regret? Were you horrified at the tragedy inflicted by your own self? Were you still too high on drugs to realize what abominations you’d committed?
May God bless your soul, no matter what sins Satan has perpetrated through you. You are His own, and that which He creates cannot be evil. However, due to His decision to grant you the responsibility of free will, your mind is still vulnerable to the Devil’s vice. It is only by His mercy and love that we are ever free from the Evil One’s grip.
To my almighty Father in Heaven, Jesus Christ,
Jesus, our Savior, bless the many families influenced by this calamity. Soothe their shocked and miserable hearts with Your loving kindness. Speak words of comfort to them and those close to them, and graciously escort the souls of those killed to Your wonderful kingdom.
Amen.
Okay. I heard about the shooting in Connecticut from my mom yesterday, and I just HAD to write something as a tribute to those poor families. This is more of a prayer than a story, but I just kind of jotted down what I was thinking and fixed it up into a post.
About the title. I don't even know, I couldn't think of anything and that's what I was saying in my head, so yeah.
Comment, please!!
Are you satisfied with your deeds, I ask? Has your lust for blood been sated with the murder of many innocents?
You were not in your own right mind when you committed this abhorrent crime, I realize. But who, save for yourself, is to blame for consuming the drugs and medication that weakened your resolve and allowed the Devil to control your actions?
There is a woman who, until yesterday, served as a kindergarten teacher at the school you assaulted. Her name was Victoria, and she sacrificed herself in order to keep her students safe from you. After the school had executed lockdown, she ordered the children in her classroom to hide in the cubbyholes where they stored their jackets. She herself did not try to hide, but instead accepted her fate as she protected their lives. You shot her, but did not discover even one of her students who heeded the brave woman's advice.
As if these monstrosities were insufficient, you even took the lives of your own parents. Your mother, a worker at the school you rampaged, was shot to death at your own hand.
I wonder what thoughts ran through your mind before you put a bullet through your own head. Did you feel regret? Were you horrified at the tragedy inflicted by your own self? Were you still too high on drugs to realize what abominations you’d committed?
May God bless your soul, no matter what sins Satan has perpetrated through you. You are His own, and that which He creates cannot be evil. However, due to His decision to grant you the responsibility of free will, your mind is still vulnerable to the Devil’s vice. It is only by His mercy and love that we are ever free from the Evil One’s grip.
To my almighty Father in Heaven, Jesus Christ,
Jesus, our Savior, bless the many families influenced by this calamity. Soothe their shocked and miserable hearts with Your loving kindness. Speak words of comfort to them and those close to them, and graciously escort the souls of those killed to Your wonderful kingdom.
Amen.
Okay. I heard about the shooting in Connecticut from my mom yesterday, and I just HAD to write something as a tribute to those poor families. This is more of a prayer than a story, but I just kind of jotted down what I was thinking and fixed it up into a post.
About the title. I don't even know, I couldn't think of anything and that's what I was saying in my head, so yeah.
Comment, please!!
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Ring, Ring
Ring, ring.
“Hello?”
“Megan!! Megan, s-something really bad has happened. I don’t know what to — I just — I—”
“Kayla! Is that you? Calm down. What happened?”
“I c— I can’t, I won’t let them do it —”
“Kay-! Kayla. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Calm down.”
“……”
“…Better?”
“…Okay. I’m okay now. Sorry…”
“It’s alright. Now tell me; what’s wrong?”
“I just got the news…Megan, I have to have an amputation. Tomorrow.”
“……”
“Megan?”
“I’m here. I just…Oh, Kayla, I’m so sorry…”
“I-it’s okay, it’ll be fine. I already met the doctor and he’s really good.”
“Okay. Great. Wh…What happened??”
“Well, yesterday my l-leg gave out when I tripped down the stairs. It felt like it had broken in four or five different places…It hurt so bad…Mom took me to the hospital and it turns out I have severe osteoporosis. My leg is so shattered it won’t function anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“…I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Kayla…Would it be okay if I go to the hospital with you so I can be there when you wake up?”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
“…Megan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared…”
“It’s okay. That’s perfectly okay, Kayla. In fact, if you weren’t scared, I’d be afraid for your sanity, heheh. Don’t worry. I’m here, it’ll be okay.”
“I just, I don’t want to lose my leg…What’ll I do about tennis?? I can’t play tennis with a prosthetic leg. How will I exercise? How will I take showers? How will I go for a run? What’s gonna happen to me, Megan?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just know that whatever happens, I’ll be here and I’ll be praying for you.”
“Megan, I c-can’t—”
“Shhh. Shhh, Kayla, don’t cry. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay in the end. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“Shhh…”
“…Megan?”
“Yes?”
“…Thank you.”
I woke up this morning and decided I wanted to write something made up entirely of dialogue. Thus, this story was born. How did I do? Let me know :)
“Hello?”
“Megan!! Megan, s-something really bad has happened. I don’t know what to — I just — I—”
“Kayla! Is that you? Calm down. What happened?”
“I c— I can’t, I won’t let them do it —”
“Kay-! Kayla. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Calm down.”
“……”
“…Better?”
“…Okay. I’m okay now. Sorry…”
“It’s alright. Now tell me; what’s wrong?”
“I just got the news…Megan, I have to have an amputation. Tomorrow.”
“……”
“Megan?”
“I’m here. I just…Oh, Kayla, I’m so sorry…”
“I-it’s okay, it’ll be fine. I already met the doctor and he’s really good.”
“Okay. Great. Wh…What happened??”
“Well, yesterday my l-leg gave out when I tripped down the stairs. It felt like it had broken in four or five different places…It hurt so bad…Mom took me to the hospital and it turns out I have severe osteoporosis. My leg is so shattered it won’t function anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“…I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Kayla…Would it be okay if I go to the hospital with you so I can be there when you wake up?”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
“…Megan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared…”
“It’s okay. That’s perfectly okay, Kayla. In fact, if you weren’t scared, I’d be afraid for your sanity, heheh. Don’t worry. I’m here, it’ll be okay.”
“I just, I don’t want to lose my leg…What’ll I do about tennis?? I can’t play tennis with a prosthetic leg. How will I exercise? How will I take showers? How will I go for a run? What’s gonna happen to me, Megan?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just know that whatever happens, I’ll be here and I’ll be praying for you.”
“Megan, I c-can’t—”
“Shhh. Shhh, Kayla, don’t cry. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay in the end. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“Shhh…”
“…Megan?”
“Yes?”
“…Thank you.”
I woke up this morning and decided I wanted to write something made up entirely of dialogue. Thus, this story was born. How did I do? Let me know :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)