Personal Narrative Short Story

On a cold December morning snow blanketed the ground while a frozen mist masked the trees. Only the very tops could be seen. I stepped outside and inhaled the clean, crisp Texas air. Still half asleep, I walked to the truck feeling the soft powder compact beneath my boots and the snowflakes melt as they hit my skin. It was the time of year that I had been longing for.

“My old friend from across town came by and told me her son woke up with a high fever and egg sized swellings!” She said panting heavily.

“My father killed my mother,” he says eventually. It’s horribly casual, the way the words tumble out of his mouth, but he can’t think of any other way to say them.

“How about you go get your father, dinner will be soon.” as she carried the pan to the sink.

“Let me know when you have her service. I want to attend,” Andrew said, hoping there would be no autopsy. “Take care of yourself, and again, I am sorry about your mother, she has been a customer here for years, we’ll miss her. I’ll cancel her refills,” Andrew said, watching him leave the pharmacy.

“I’m so sorry mom; I didn’t mean to scare you.” Margot sniffled from the cold.

A little over two years ago, I finally saved up enough money from working part-time to afford a new computer. Before that, I had the computer my parents got me for my 16th birthday, which was around 3 years old then. The computer they got me wasn’t the best, but of course it was better than nothing and got the job done. I’m definitely very appreciative of that. Now, the computer I got myself I didn’t personally build, but I used a website called CyberpowerPC to choose all of the hardware and pre-installed software myself. I was still fairly new to that sort of thing then, so I had to use Google a lot to research all of the different hardware options: what they meant, what the differences were, and so on. The parts I chose

“If you didn’t keep your parents and sister such a secret, if you talked about them, maybe you wouldn’t grieve as hard now.”

I turned m to look at my mother and father. "Mom, dad, have you too talked to Chanel by any chance," I asked them.

“I have something to ask you about. I long time ago. Right after Mommy died, I was very sad. And I cried a lot. But I was afraid if you saw me cry it would make you sadder than you already were.”

“Well, On Friday night Mom and Dad never came home. And it turned out that they were in a Car accident” And as i say that i begin sobbing, and i find it hard to breathe.

“My mother died in childbirth, and my father passed when I was four, so I have few memories of them,” he said. “I went to live with my uncle. He never

"I just found out," I sniffle, "that...that Mom had lied about my father. Turns out he died instead of leaving us. He was murdered...by my stalker. She had been lying to me almost my whole life, and I don't know if I can ever trust her again."

I followed summer into the diner, and glanced at a sign that read “Please Seat Yourself.” Summer lead the way to a booth located near the window, where she practically fell into the seat. I slid into the seat across from her. The waitress clad in a very vintage pink uniform circa 1960’s, slowly made her way to our table, her name tag read “Cindy.” Her hair was a box dye auburn, face clad with gaudy makeup, including a red lipstick that aged her immensely.

“That’s great, hun,” Mary replied. “But, did you find a way through the village?” she then asked, but before Johnny could answer her she began again. “We can’t stay here forever. Were there a lot of sick people there?”