The Visual Pops: A Short Story

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

realized how much my mom meant to me before this incident. I recall waking up and uttering the word “mom”. I look around to find that I was lying on a bed covered in pink and blue floral designs. My favourite colours. But, the bright white walls immediately made me flinch. everything else was white. White walls, white carpet, white chairs. It was not at all what I was used to back in my room with my black covered

         When my mom ran to my dad and pulled on his arm to get him away from Gavin, he pushed her against the wall and screamed what sounded to me like bad words. When I ran between them saying, "Mommy, daddy, don 't fight," dad picked me up and threw me onto Gavin, who 'd just gotten off the ground from his first strike. Dad kept yelling at us. I didn 't know why, and it scared all of us.

My mom lost her mother at the tender age of five to uterus cancer. Her father wasn't in the picture any longer even though he lived in the same town. Abuelo Enrique would tell me some of the adventures that my mom got herself into, because of him I got to know my mom and I started to draw a picture of her, as a courageous young woman that would hit any guy that overpass with her or my aunt Pana (Abuelo Enrique's daughter). He would tell me these tales under a banana tree in his rocking chair with a glass of

We lived in the ghettos for all of 2 weeks before we were taken to a camp. My family was split up so my mother, my sister, and I were together and my Father was alone. The work camps were terrible they forced us into hard labor my mother and I knew how to sew so we were put into a work group to sew up soldiers uniforms. I ber one day my mother pricked her finger and got blood on one of the uniforms she was beaten by an S.S officer and yelled at continually. If I ever made a mistake or did something wrong my mother would take the beating for me. I objected every time but she would never let anything happen to me. My older sister was not good at sewing but luckily was put near us she helped cook for everyone in the camp. I will always remember the day of the selection my mother was not chosen but I was my mother tried to talk me into believing that getting picked this time was good and that we needed to say goodbye because she was leaving. I knew the truth though. The next day an officer called out the names of the chosen people my name was called. We were told we were going to take a shower. When they stopped us we were in a big room I did not see any shower heads “Gas chamber” I heard someone mumble. I knew my last breath was going to be soon. All at once gaas entered the room coughing came from all around. I said my last goodbye and said a silent Kaddish for myself and the people I was with. I then took my final breath while many

On a Sunday morning of March 15 1998, we woke up super early to the phone ringing on the other side was my dad. My grandmother answered the phone her face paled as she heard the words “mom I shot myself.” After talking to him for a bit my grandmother rushed out of her room to get my uncle up and they rushed to the house to see him up walking around with a hole in his stomach. Ambulance came to get him then rushed him to meet life force. He flat lined once on the helicopter. They were able to bring him back and stabilized him, and kept him stabled till they got to the hospital. They rushed him immediately into the OR, it was around 15 to 20 minutes into surgery that he had passed away, they were unable to bring him back due to the major loss of blood. My mom soon remarried and I gained two annoying step brothers and a step dad. One step brother didn’t bother me to bad, the other one poked and picked on me trying to pick fights. My step dad had episodes where he was violent and threw things at me and my mom. I withdrew more and more until a few of my friends literally grabbed me by my arm and told me to wake up that they were not going to let me push them away

When I was about five years old I had something happen to me that would change forever. My life before this was not the best and was really confusing to understand and that was because I was always moving into different houses with my mom and would always have a new dad which as a little kid you don’t really know what is going on and have to just deal with it. My mother was not the best and did not take really good care of me.

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

Every day I saw my mom cry and try to walk to the hog site to use the gun to kill herself. One day I ran out into a cold misty day about 15 degrees, ½ mile and I looked her in the eyes and said “is it worth it” and a cold breeze hit me and sent a chill down my stomach, I cried. The worst part was me trying to start fights with her because she never paid any attention to me because she was always on her phone.

As a child I grew up in a home with my two parents and two older sisters. I met most developmental milestones at the appropriate age, and I did not have any major childhood illnesses. One of the earliest memories that I can recall was at age 3 or 4. I don’t recall the exact age and I haven’t asked my mother about the event, but I know it was at least before I was school age. I recall that my mother and grandmother were with me and we were standing on the side of a county road near a small bridge. There were police cars and an ambulance parked nearby with their lights flashing. My mother and grandmother were crying hysterically and this was very upsetting to me because I don’t think I had ever saw them cry like that before. The reason that they were crying was that a close friend of my grandmother had drove off the bridge in their

The most traumatic event in my life was when my father passed away in 2005, when I was only seven. At first, I hadn’t understood his death. I knew what death was, and that it was permanent, but I hadn’t accepted the fact that he was gone until long after his death. My mother was a mess, and I was a confused second grader who could do nothing to help her. We began to go to counselors and psychologists, who all made me feel very uncomfortable. All they wanted was to talk about what had happened to my dad, when it was the last thing I wanted to say anything about. I laid in bed crying for a few weeks, knowing it was because of his death, but I felt emptiness rather than sadness or anger. My mother began to take medication for depression, and still continues to do so. At only seven, I believed her sadness was my fault. To be honest, I still feel hurt when I see her taking the depression medication. I know that I had nothing to do with his death, but it granted me with an unwelcoming sense of guilt. I had just been with him the night before his death, and now he had been cremated into a bag of ashes. All of my teachers were very precautious about mentioning him, and I didn’t know how to process all the new attention I had received at school. I was definitely depressed, but I found a way out of my slump. I distracted myself from his death and did all of my school work from my absences as quickly as I could, and

Throughout my life I've suffered through nurmous horrific events. It began when I was born, when I was diagnosed with Poland syndrome. Poland syndrome is a rare birth defect characterized by underdevelopment of the chest muscle on one side of the body. In most individuals, (me) the missing part is the large section of the muscle that attaches to the upper arm on one side and the breastbone on the other, In women the breast will be noticeably different in overall size and nipple size. I attend a facilty titled "Touching You," for treatment and will later have corrections surgically made later down the road. When I was six years old, my father remarried for the first time to a woman who haunts my mind til this day. Her father took

Losing my mother was very traumatising. She was the only parent I knew since the age of three and the one person I knew I could depend on one hundred percent. I was in school when one of my cousin came to inform me that I was to return home immediately. In my gut I knew something serious must have happened to my mother. I do not remember how I got home. When I saw several people crying at my home and nobody was really make eye contact with me, I just started to cry too and that is when someone told me how sorry they were for my loss. I was in shock for more than three days. I did not sleep nor eat and I did not shade single tears after the initial outburst. Basically I just wanted to crawl in a corner and never wake up from the nightmare. However, I had to become an adult and I

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping