Skies on Fire

PICTURE OF MOLLY ON THE SIDE!!!!

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Chapter 1

First Victims

“IT’S TAKING FOREVER!!!” my sister Alexa whines.

I look into her deep green eyes with my piercing green ones. “Patience is key and you should know that by now.” I say through clenched teeth. I pull up my soft red hair into a messy bun and throw my hood up.

“You say that every time.” She mutters and throws up her hood over her fiery red hair also.

I reposition myself in our usual tree while Alexa ties her black sneakers. We had on our usual attire: black skinny jeans, black hoodies, and black sneakers. I peer through the leaves and see the sun setting and think back to simpler times.

*FLASHBACK*

“MOM AGAIN REALLY?!?!” I giggle.

My mom runs over and opens the window to let smoke out. I look over in the sink and see our dinner…. Again.

My mom smiles and sighs and says in her deep southern accent, “Honey come here and let me tell you something.”

We both take a seat at our dinner table, “If someday, so be it, I have to leave the earth, every sunset I want you to look at the sky painted with red and orange and think of your mama. Think of me and all the wonderful times we had together. And think of me up in heaven trying to cook but I only end up setting the skies on fire.”

That next day she was killed along with our dad from being hit head on by a drunk driver.

*PRESENT*

I smile at the memory of when we were all together. I look over at Lexi and see her bouncy impatiently. She got her impatience form our mom and I got my soberness from our dad. We made quite a pair. But we were all we had. I look back at the waterfall where we live about a mile behind us. It was my 18th birthday today and hopefully today would be lucky most days we sit out here waiting while we roast in sun. My thoughts were interrupted when we hear a vehicle in the distance. I look over at Lexi as a wide smile breaks out on her face. A black suburban turns the corner of the dirt road and I throw 10 nails out in front of us. I pull down my black ski mask and pull out my pocket knife.

Our first victims.