I want you to write a story from the point of view of a girl finding out about her parents deaths. She can be rushed to the hospital to see them die, she can be with them, she can be getting a call, whatever, I want to see if you guys can make me cry!
Don't forget to email me the results at jes.lei.cooper@gmail.com
soinsanlyboycrazy's story: Rated PG
I sat on my bed, giving my laptop the blank stare like I did every day. Nothing more to do, really. It was a Monday afternoon. My parents were at work leaving me home alone to . . . well, to do what I usually do even when they were home! The internet. It was 7 P.M. and I’d been in the same spot and position since I arrived home four hours ago.
The phone began to ring and I was still unwilling to move, but as the ringing persisted, I stood up and answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Melanie?”
The voice sounded like my aunt Terry’s, though I hadn’t seen or spoken to her for years. “yes?”
“it’s me,” she said, “I’m on my way to pick you up.”
“Um . . . why?” I thought that it was a perfectly logical question, but she sounded like she almost began to cry.
“I’ll explain on the way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She immediately hung up after that.
I was shaking. I had no idea what was going on or why she was coming. I barely knew her, and the sudden phone call was enough to freak me out, right?
I closed my laptop and just sat there quietly in my dimly lit room until I heard the door open. I was surprised that she still had a working key after all these years.
When I was ten, her and my parents got into a huge fight about the fact that our family didn’t spend Christmas with my mom’s side of the family and then I never heard from her again until today.
I didn’t even leave my room and instead just sat there until the sound of footsteps got louder and louder and my doorknob began to turn. When my aunt peeked in, I noticed that she’d been crying.
“We need to talk about something,” she said quietly as she gestured her hand toward the door “c’mon, let’s go.”
Without a word, I followed her outside and into her car, still extremely scared and confused.
From the driver’s seat, she reached out and squeezed my hand “Honey, your parents were in a car accident.” It took her at least thirty seconds before she began to speak again “Your mom,” Aunt Terry sobbed but immediately straightened up “She died immediately.”
I wasn’t crying. Why wasn’t I crying?! My thoughts began to race as I tried to comprehend what I was just told. I just sat there and watched as my aunt cried.
She choked out sentence by sentence after that, “Your father died in the hospital about a half hour ago. Sweetie, I am so sorry.”
I remained silent.
Motionless.
Five minutes passed before I felt the engine start, and I realized that my eyes were closed.
Why cry? Said a voice in my head, there’s nothing you can do about it now.
But they’re your parents! Said another voice, if you really cared about them, you would cry! You cry all the time, why not now?
I dug my nails into my skin and inhaled deeply.
I could still hear my aunt sniffling and sobbing.
“I’m taking you to my house,” she told me “the rest of the family is there.”
Two years later, I’m living with my aunt.
After my parents were buried, she lived at my previous home for a few days until my things were packed and ready to go. We began to talk more and more and I started to see her as part of my family once again.
So here in my home, I sit here on my bed, staring blankly at my computer screen.
