I need a title so comment one if you have a good idea

The funeral

I hated funerals. I hated the somber mood, the itchy black dress that I had to wear, and the cold grey coffin were my mother lay. It would have been easier to handle all the emotions that were overwhelming me if she wasn't killed in front of me.

We were having dinner one night when we heard a crash. My mom left to go and see what it was. After about a minute I heard voices. Curious, I walked over to the room that she had walked into and looked in. The sight before me caused me to gasp. There was a strange man standing in the middle of the room. He was wearing all black and the only thing that I could see were his eyes which were squinted as he prepared to shot my mother who was sitting with her back against the couch.

She looked up at him and whispered one word, "Please." Her eyes looked up at him and she repeated, "P-please, I-I'll do an-anything."

He looked down at her and I could practically see the smirk in his eyes. He leaned down and said, "No, it's too late for that now. Just remember, you brought this upon yourself."

I was glued to the spot as I watched his finger tighten around the trigger. The bullet went straight through her head and into the couch behind her. Her blood sprayed out behind her, getting on everything.

I jumped as I heard police sirens in the background. The man must have heard them too because he took one last look at the scene in front of him and jumped out the window that he entered through. When I was sure he was gone, I ran over to my mother and hugged her bleeding body, not caring if my cloths were being soaked in blood. At this point tears were streaming down my face. The police came in and took me away from her. I didn't remember much after that except from screaming for her to come back because my mind was too shocked to think of anything else.

I shook my head trying to clear the memory from my head. I tried to focus on the priest talking about my mother's life but it sounded as though he was on the other side of a football stadium. The pitter patter of rain on the ground was soothing even the though I was soaked to the bone and shivering and the black dress did nothing to help.

When the priest asked me to come up to say a few words before they buried her But I just turned my head away. I was afraid that if I tried to talk, my voice would crack and I would have a break down in front of everyone. I hated to cry in front of people, it made me feel weak and insecure.

She didn't own very many things but only possession that she had given me was her old black leather diary. I now clutched that diary in my cold shaking hands.

Listening to the priest drone on and on about her, I felt like I was suffocating. I needed to get away from the funeral, from the black clad people, away from everything. I stood up and started to walk away from everyone. Some people glanced at me but most just ignored me. When I was far enough away from everyone, I started to run. I ran past tombstones and trees. I didn't stop running until I could barely breathe. I collapsed beneath an oak tree and let out a huge sob. My tears started falling and they mixed with the rain that was already on my face. I just stayed there for a while, all thought of time had slipped from my mind.

After what seemed like hours I sat back up and tried to control my unsteady breathing. I had stopped crying a few minutes ago and now I just felt empty inside. I decided to see what was in the diary because I didn't have anything better to do with my time and I wasn't going back to the funeral.

I opened the book and flipped to a random page.  When I tried to read the messy handwriting, there was a flash of light and I was transported to another place. It was almost like watching an old movie where the screen flickered and the audio was a bit off.

I was at a 70s party. I was surrounded by eighteen year olds who were all dancing but none of them payed attention to me. In the crowd I saw a younger version of my mom. She was sitting dejectedly off to the side in a wooden chair, staring at someone. It was a man who appeared to be dancing with another man. I tried to recognize the man that my mom was staring at but I couldn't place his face. His partner spun him around and I glimpsed his face. Then the memory of him came back, crashing over me like a tsunami. I gasped and closed the book and the place was gone. I didn't want that memory to resurface. I didn't want to remember him. I didn't questioned what happened with the book, my head was too numb.

I was breathing hard and felt dizzy but I knew that I would be fine. I slowly sat up and stumbled back to the cold black funeral. This time though, the priest's voice sounded as though he was on the other side of the universe instead of a football stadium. I look down and a single tear rolled down my cheek and hit the smooth leather cover of the diary.

Ok, so I did a lot of editing to this. It is rather short (1014 words) and thank you to everyone who helped me create the first chapter back in 7th grade (I think they were Maaike,  Rowen, and Reagan). Please comment anything that I need to work on for this book, feedback is very helpful. Thanks, Katie.