Personal Narrative : A Short Story : The Story Of A Story

The officer had me answer way too many questions making that day far worse than it needed to be he made me give a description of the killer and an overall summary of what had happened.

“Well, dammit all to hell and Goldview, Texas, anyway,” Brandon Masters whispered under his breath. Not that there was anyone around to hear him, even if he’d shouted to the high heavens. He looked up and down the lonely stretch of highway. So close and yet so far, with nothing but his dead cell phone to keep him company. The way he saw the situation…he could suck it up and walk to town—or, he could wait around for the carrion feeders to discover his dried up, shriveled carcass at the side of the road. Ick.

The dry rural landscape is playing with my vision. I am seeing double of everything. Double the amount of frizzled up shrubs. Two for every one pebble on the ground beneath my feet. The blinding white sand is stretching into the horizon, reflecting the sun’s heat onto my already sweat-dripping skin.

Panic ensued, “did I cause this?” I thought. Then, I glanced at the road to see a red van with two familiar people in it, my parents. I panicked even more, trying to think of an excuse. Although, it was too late, as they were already out of the car and walking towards me. So, I fell to the ground, begging them for mercy, but they just stared at me in surprise. “Why did you try to mow with the broken lawnmower?” Mom asked. “Didn’t you see the note we left?”

“Wake up, Wake up,” His mom yells him from his doorway. He slowly got up out of his queen size bed and made out some of the words his mom said like “where, to, be, late,” but nothing after that. He stuttered as he walked over to his white dresser in the closet of his room. He opened the drawer slowly not knowing what to wear. Which felt like an hour but was only forty-five seconds he finally found what he was going to wear. He soon made it to the bathroom, turning the cold shiny handle of the shower and not even waiting for it to get warm. “Hurry up,” his mom yelled as he hopped out of shower and quickly put his clothes on. He was in such a hurry, he almost slipped on the slippery cold tile of the bathroom floor barely catching himself with granite counter top of the sink. His mom was waiting patiently in the car not knowing if he would be there until another two hours. Suddenly as he looked at his phone charging on his bed stand he noticed the time. He basically sprinted for the elevator in his five story house with his gear and rode it down three floors to the main floor. He jumped out of the elevator and sprinted to his car still sore from being at the ice rink the last four nights practicing and training. He wasn't happy that he couldn’t get anything to eat, but new there would be snacks on his plane. They sped out of the long driveway of the five story house in East Grand Rapids.

“I lost control for a moment after hitting what seemed like a bump. I slammed on the breaks and it took me a minute to come to terms with what had just happened.”, Sam --. “I decided to get out of the car to assess the damage I had just done.”

“From day one, I knew, I didn’t murder my mother; I’ve tried to think who would do such a horrible thing,” she said and stopped talking as tears filled her eyes.

It wasn't everyday you found out bad news, specially news like this. I didn't want to believe it, didn't want to hear it either, but sometimes you just don't get what you wish for do you? The emotion's were killing me inside and out. I didn't know what to do or what to say. What to think. I couldn't process how to react, I couldn't work out whether to scream or cry, shout out in anger. I couldn't just sit there and think about what had happened nor did i want to try clear my head but i knew i had to, how was a completely different story though. There was no way of writing the emotions down and i couldn't just let this shit play on my mind. Questions was spinning around my head, a blur, like a confusion of answers that just didn't make sense. I didn't have anyone to talk to, didn't have anyone to help me through. I was all on my own. Didn't no where I was going or where I was going to end up. There wasn't a lot of people around, but then again i wasn't sure of the time. The shops were closed, and the lights that light the night sky was burning away, but it was still dark. I didn't care where i was, or what time it was, I was just walking where ever my feet took me. There was turns for bendy roads, straight roads and alley ways, i didn't fancy getting lost, but i didn't feel like turning back anytime soon. It was obvious i was going to get lost, but then again i didn't feel like finding myself. I took the straight

I could remember every detail of Mary. She was the kind of girl that when she entered a room, everyone would stop instantly just to capture a glimpse of her. She had silky brown hair, so long that it almost grazed the small of her back. Her eyes were chocolate brown, and people often said when you looked right into them you could almost see right into her. Those were the good memories. The memories that didn't haunt me every day. Not many people are unfortunate enough to watch their most loved one die in there cold shaky arms. I remember watching her gasp for her last breath of air while holding the back of her head trying to stop the bleeding. I knew the roads were icy that night but I insisted on catching the late show so that we could be away from our parents and finally be alone.

Daddy was driving us home. Three of us in the backseat and Lula, who was his favorite, in the passenger's seat.

“I’m so excited!” I said, as we were loading the supplies into the car. I picked up the cooler and loaded it into the back of the truck. My long brown hair brushed my face while the bright warm sun of the afternoon warmed me. Then, I started loading other things into the car, not exactly knowing where they were supposed to go.

As we drive the dirt road passing every memory, one attracted more attention than others. This particular moment at the time was joyous, but only for me. It frightened Maggie and Mother. Why did I find so much delight in this situation? My childhood home was burning right before my eyes while the most valuable thing was inside: the quilts. The quilts were made by Grandmother. Her hands sewed every stitch by hand and every cloth used was worn by her. It was an antique work of art; it would have made a beautiful center piece in our---¨Wangero, can you believe that there are still people living in the filth,¨ Hikam says bringing me back to present time. I responded truthful,¨These people do not know any better if they knew they wouldn’t still be living in this place. They would be living in the city like us.” Hikam silently agrees. After driving on something narrower than a single lane and unpaved, we turn onto thier road. Last time I saw my sister and my mother, it was when I was leaving college--my favorite memory--which was seven years ago. As Hikam and I park in front of the shed, I take a deep breath; open the door and step on the dry dirt.

“We got into a car accident,” said Chase. She took a deep breath and took one step forward.

“Mom,” I asked, “are you alright?” I looked at her face as she mouth the words that left my lips.

“She was shot by one of the cops while they were trying to catch her” she said.