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Creative Story : A Short Story

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“Do you know how to attach a trailer to the jeep?” It was a friday night and I had just came home from school to take a nap. “Sophie does I think,” I said, slowly, confused. My mom nodded, “Your father wrecked his bike, we need to pick him up.” I was alone, my mom now asking Sophie the same question. The whole house was strangely quiet, and the only sound that was missing was the constant sound of my dad’s television. I rushed down the stairs behind my mom with Sophie following closely behind me. I hopped into the front seat before Sophie, the trivial fact of ‘shotgun’ forgotten. The ride there was quiet, except for my sniffling. I have always been a baby, and I have cried for the simplest things. But when we got there, my eyes were dry and so was my mouth. I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t breathe. My dad was sitting on the side of the road, his motorcycle laying chipped apart ahead of him. The huge red motorcycle that was shiny and impeccable, now lay dented and chipped on its side. My mom put the car in park and hopped out. My Dad didn’t want all the drama associated with the rescue squad coming, and he was at least 2 minutes away from the hospital. So he didn’t want to call anyone. My mom moved closer only to be interrupted by a shrill noise. My dad turned his head slowly. We saw a Kilmarnock Police car and backed up to let the car continue forward. The Police Woman stepped out of the car and greeted Dad joyously. “Eddie!” She paused, “Got into a little bit of
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