Short Story : My Mother Is Dead

As I was laying on the cushioned couch on a Saturday afternoon, my phone began buzzing in my dark black Nike basketball shorts. As I read the caller ID I noticed that it was my mom. As soon as I picked up the phone I knew something was wrong. My mom's voice was scratchy, and depressed. As I picked up the phone she immediately told me the horrifying news. For a few seconds I had to comprehend what I was hearing. After I analyzed what she had said I screeched my lungs out, bawling hysterically, as if I had heard that the world was ending. For a moment I couldn't breathe, hearing that our healthy Chihuahua had passed away. After that tragic day, about a few months later, even though I was still awestruck by that wretched day the question finally

It was a beautiful, cool July morning in the mountains of Colorado; the birds were chirping and the leaves on the trees were rustling. I could almost taste the bacon sizzling on the stovetop as my mother made breakfast. Nothing could ruin a perfect morning like this… At least that’s what I thought. Interrupting the cooking of breakfast, my mom’s cell phone strangely began to ring; there hadn’t been many people trying to contact my mom since she was on vacation. However, my mom ran to answer the call. “Oh, it’s your sister,” I heard my mom say. Although I was in a different room, I could hear the concern and worry in my mother’s voice moments after she answered the phone. Instantaneously, my heart began to race. I began feeling sick to my stomach

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

I sat there in my room with tears flowing down my blush pink cheeks. Wondering what was wrong with me, as a salty tear ran along my dried out chapped lips. I thought to myself,” Why am I so miserable? What did I do to deserve this? How am I going to escape this life?” I started to ponder that this was the end of my life, this is how I was going to be, sorrowful. At the lowest point of my life, mother came barging through the door with the look of cavernous concern on her face. She knew that it was time for something to be done, whether I agreed or not.

On Wednesday, November 26, 2014, I was coming out of a very hectic day at work, when I received the news that had me breaking down in tears. “Odette your mother is in the emergency room.” I could not believe the words that were coming out of my father's mouth in that instinct. So many thoughts came rushing through my mind. “Why, my mom?” I kept on asking myself, but I knew that I could not show my depression to my two younger siblings. The reason for that was that I did not want to scare them nor make them feel the horrible feeling that I was feeling inside. Even though I appeared to look fine in the outside, my precious soul was dying in sorrows in the inside. The scariest thought of knowing your mother is in danger and that you cannot do anything to save her is very traumatizing. I honestly felt like my hands were tied behind my back while I saw her drowning in pain.

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

I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning Amber! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or any one else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of

My family has passed away a few years back due to infection. I was distraught because I didn't know how to do anything on behalf of my mother and her doing everything even in the zombie apocalypse. Then, I decided that it’s not like they are going to come back and help me and if they did come back they would be zombies. I learned how to cook the food we had and I picked up a hobby. My mom would make us wool blankets for the years and she had so much wool that I decided to knit also. But, now as I stand out here in this barren land I realize that, that isn’t going to help me. While I’m thinking this I see a woman or what I hope is a woman. She has long, dark brown hair and reminded me of my mom. I start to follow this woman and then she starts to run away from me. I start to run after her and this continues for about ten blocks and I get really tired. She must have also been tired because they stopped running. I finally caught up to them. When this woman turned around I realized that she looked a lot like my mother. Then I see that she is holding a little baby girl. This girl I recognized from photos that my father had in the paper factory. This little girl is me and this woman is my

Before my mom sent me and my dad off to find help, she was on the phone with the roadside assistance which seemed like forever. All of a sudden we then realized the gas station wasn’t that far down the road, at least that is what we thought. We started to walk to the gas station, our foots sinking in the mud, the cold mud rises to our ankles. We immediately turn around knowing that this wasn’t the right decision. The gas station was longer than we thought, it was not even visible. Trudging back to the car we come to find my mom on speakerphone with the phone ringing. It goes straight to

Last December, I came home from practice to find my mother on the floor of the living room, hardly breathing. I dropped to her side, begging her to tell me what was wrong, and she whispered that she was having a heart attack. Upon hearing that, my actions became erratic; I was hyper-aware of my heart, of time, of the phone I could not keep still in my shaking hands as I called for help. After waiting in painful apprehension, two paramedics would walk in, put my mother on a stretcher, and carry her out. I would give them her prescription medicine and wrote down the name of the hospital she would be going to. Then, they would take her away, and I would be alone in a house of utter silence. Something about the silence allowed me to ruminate over

As the children climbed unto their moms bed to place their hand on her stomach to feel Geana’s kicking, her water broke and a contraction arose. She turned and tossed, black tears began rolling down her face. The pain was so severe.

I breath between tears with at least some hope that my mother will still be alive when I hear a moan on the other side of the bed. I gasp when I see her face down I pick her up and I hold her in my arm and she coughs up blood and between little murmurs I catch her telling me that she loves me and that I need to be strong when all of sudden she stops breathing. I stop to sob because for some reason I forgot who to cry instead I held my mother. Sirens get louder and louder when the front door opens and a bunch of people come in repeating into their radios “two people down and one alive” and five people surrounded me ask me “are you okay” and I just look at them with confusion why would ask me that when it was clear that I had just lost both of my parents. They took my mother away and took me to and ambulance outside of my house. As I was close to the ambulance I look over at the police car and found this teenaged boy who look at me with fury that when I realized that had to be the boy that killed my parents everything went black and just felt my body drop to the

It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that

My mother Christy Rehn has many great qualities that make up who she is today. First, to give a physical description; she is a female and is 44 years old about 5’5 . She has short dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. Her eyes are as brown as a bear and are very fast moving. One great quality is that my mom is very funny. She enjoys a good laugh when she's feeling happy or not feeling well at all. She enjoys spending time with her family. Especially, going to the movies as well as sitting out on the beach on a hot sunny day. My mom isn’t just another average person, she shares her many unique qualities that allow others to see who she really is on the inside.