Makayla's Death: A Short Story

My mom kept being persistent about me going outside instead of being inside all of the time, so my brother and I went out to ride our bikes. I went out and started to ride my bike up and down the street. That’s when I heard a girl say “Hi” when I passed the house across from mine. It was a girl and her younger sister that looked about my age. And from that day on we always

Losing a mother at the age of ten is not a thought one could imagine; however when faced with it, you have no other choice than to hold onto the memories that were left. The day my mother was killed, she had the opportunity, to call the entire family, to say goodbye. Sixteen years later, I can still remember those exact words of that phone call. While on the phone, I remember my mother saying that she loved me, and that I would probably not be seeing her for a while. At first this truly did not register in my mind, being that she always struggled to care for my sisters and myself; we often ended up staying with family members for an extended amount of time. I responded with “I love you too,” and, “Okay mom.” A few days later, a detective knocked at the door, and began to explain what had happened; she was found in a hotel room with everything stripped from her besides her boots. Everything in the room was wiped down, and all the sheets, pillows, and towels were removed. Her killer was never caught, and her death was ruled as an unidentifiable cause. Looking back now, that phone call made sense and I feel as if she was attempting to warn the family, yet no one caught on. Those little hints, of saying goodbye, could have possibly saved her life, still no one truly understood the meaning of the phone call. My father suffered from two strokes at one time; he was left paralyzed on his entire right side. My sister and I were advised that he would probably not pull through, and to

I found out Tuesday after school. My mom brought my sister and I into her room and made the announcement. They were both clearly devastated. I myself shed no tears until I was in the safety of my own room. All I felt was hate, resentment, fear, and devastation. Out of everything that could have happened, why did she have to go? I continued to ask myself that one question over and over. I felt like it was partially my fault. I questioned if I had done something that would have led to this. We sent her away to find out what had caused her death. They found nothing, and assumed it was a neurological problem.

After several weeks of my Grandmother passing, I came to realize she wasn’t coming back. The feeling of shock had left and now I felt intense amount of emotional suffering. The continuous feeling of pain and unanswered questions lingered about in my mind. I began to wonder how it could have happened and what people could have done differently. At this time, my whole family was grieving over the loss as well.

In 2002 I moved to Papillion, Nebraska and instantly me and the little girl across the street clicked. We did everything together from the day we met. Some of my favorite memories with her are doing lemonade stands, riding our bikes around the neighborhood

over night Adrian flew to Des Moines, got into the airport's terminal around half an hour before midnight and waited for his morning connecting flight. Him and Ronela were exchanging text messages throughout the night. During the wee hours of the morning, it seemed to him like everyone had left the place, the place was deserted, a ghost town where my son (16 years old) was left completely alone in the terminal..when the temperature dropped..., "I was very cold, I put on everything I had, my sweater and jacket, hat and still was very cold"said Adrian. At a time a lonely janitor passed by and " I tried to talk to him" He said to me through the phone "where is everybody?" Adrian asked him, "I don't know" was his only answer. It's hard to believe, as a father it brakes my heart, no one cared, no one looked around to see a 16 years old boy left there by himself, everybody went home or in their own cocoon... I would expect in a situation like that, someone should have looked around, ask about his whereabouts, put him in a lounge or a smaller room with some other people. How would you feel having someone close to you completely worried, isolated and scared... not to mention this boy is my son. I was heart broken and very sad...

Five days had passed this time since anyone had heard from my mother. I remember praying to God to protect her from harm and for me to find her. The next day she showed up, but not in the way we had hoped. One morning as I was getting ready for school my sophomore year in high school, my phone rang to the voice of my stepfather. My stepfather had told me he heard a call come over the dispatch scanner at his work and my mother’s name was mentioned. The sheriff had informed my stepfather that my mother had been involved in an accident. My stepfather asked me to go to the emergency room and see what condition my mother was in because he lived a half hour away from the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital I found my mother cut out of her clothes, covered in her own urine, massive amounts of blood all over her body, and lying lifeless on life support on the table. At this point, no one knew whether my mother would be okay. My mother had bleeding on the brain as well as a tear in her shoulder, a shattered face, and a chest tube draining fluid from her lung which had collapsed. All I could do was pray! My mother’s life was in God’s hands now. Three days later she woke

Our mom Julia had overdosed and the EMTs did everything they could but she was pronounced dead hours ago with J right beside her. Julia wasn't my biological mother but she had raised me alongside J my entire life. My dad had been with her for a while back when I was younger and she even used to say that he was like the Kurt Cobain to her Courtney Love, he hadn't died or anything but after getting too comfortable he ran off and dumped me onto Julia like some hand me down.

I got a call one cold, dreary winter night as I was laying beneath the covers on my bed while watching Greys Anatomy. As the phone rang, I didn’t care to answer but the second I hit accept I heard my mother on the other line in a panic. I didn’t think much of it because my mother was the type of person to over exaggerate the little things such as not putting your drink on a coaster. As I waited in silence to hear what my mother said, I could hear my dad screaming in the background. That’s when my mother told me to come to the hospital that something atrocious had happened to my sister. I dropped the phone to the floor and scrambled to the door leaving it wide open. When I got there, I walked up to the front desk as I stumbled walking in. The lady at the counter led me to my sisters room which felt like a million miles away. As I approached my sisters room, I saw the consternation in my mother 's eyes, and the way my dad was refusing to leave the hospital room but being dragged out by some of the doctors. As I looked through the window to where Bria’s body was, I saw it

Ayla of the Mamutoi walked through long stalks of golden grass and wheat. Alongside her walked a paint horse named Karma. Karma nudged Ayla with her brown, silky muzzle. She had a layer of dust over her bay paint coat and her two tone mane. She had a black tail with a lovable personality and face. The herd animal as she was, she let out a loud, traveling, neigh, disturbing the whispering sound of grass. Nickering, she turned to Ayla.

In 2014, Sheá decided to go to Little Flower while I decided to go to Central. After several months, we weren’t as close, but we always made an effort to text each other during every class. The risk of getting caught didn’t matter. As long as we got to say our crazy hellos, it was all okay. At the end of March, I was told that Sheá was hospitalized for medical reasons but it wasn’t anything urgent. For the three weeks she was in the hospital, I only visited once. Everyday I was told that she was going to get better and that she was okay. That wasn’t the case. Everything I’ve been told was a lie. On April 5, I tried visiting again, but her room was restricted from all visitors except family. There was no news or update until the morning of Monday, April 7th, 2014, the date of her death. Monday was the start of a school week, and I knew my parents wouldn’t let me be absent from school, so I built up all my emotions from that day. Starting from this day, I became extremely depressed. I kept on thinking that I should’ve done more, I should have spent more days with her, I should have went to the funeral, and that I should've paid my respects to her family, but due

We had many experiences together as I said before. One I remember most is when we always met and went to Obey River in Pickett county. We went all through the summer, we always knew what out plans were going to turn out to be. We would start by always playing in the water while our parents would get the cookout stuff together. We enjoyed every minute we spent together.

Makayla glares after him, inwardly of course, a warm, inviting smile still plastered on her face, cursing him for kidnapping her, raising her and not even saying goodbye just, Don’t fail me. Makayla knows she won’t of course, she's completely confident that she'll bring in at least the 1.2 she's worth, but he could at least have told her goodbye.

February twenty-third 2010 was just a regular ordinary day. I was on my way to class on this cold February afternoon, when my phone rung. It was my cousin on the other end telling me to call my mom. I could not figure out what was wrong, so I quickly said okay and I hung up and called my mom. When my mom answered the phone I told her the message but I said I do not know what is wrong. My mom was at work and could not call right away, so I took the effort to call my cousin back to see what was going on. She told me that our uncle was in the hospital and that it did not look good. Starting to tear up I pull over in a fast food restaurant parking lot to listen to more to what my cousin had to say. She then tells me to tell my mom to get to

In 2005, Steve Jobs delivered an inspiring and thought-provoking commencement speech to the graduating class of Stanford University. His speech addressed the concept of death, and how people should let the idea of death motivate them to take charge of their lives. Individuals only have one life, and Jobs stated that one should be able to look in the mirror as if it were their last day and be proud of what they have done. There is some merit to his conclusion, especially from a Christian view point. Christians only have one life to live, and their actions and lives should be a testament to what God has done in their lives. However, some of his remarks fall into the vein of a godlike mindset, where individuals should live like it is their last day, regardless of what that may mean to each individual. While for humans it is natural to think that they deserve to live their lives the way they desire, humanity’s true identity lies in being image bearers of God whether individuals realize that calling or not. Death should motivate people to live a life they are proud of, but it should also drive individuals to look toward the author of humanity and the purpose He has for each them.