The wind howled, calling my name in a gentle whisper as I walked along the gravel path and up to the black iron gate.
The big oak tree above cast an eerie shadow over the gate. The moon hiding behind it's branches, as if it were scared of me and seeking protection from the ominous tree.
It's leaves shook greatly, and the gate clanged sharply in the wind. I swallowed my fear and grabbed the cold iron with my hand. The rusting paint came away in my palm, leaving evidence of my arrival.
I jumped round in fear as the gate released a loud clang upon my entrance. Shaking off the feeling of dread, I turned back to face the rows of tombstones which lay ahead of me.
The grass was severely overgrown from lack of treatment and the flowers all withered in their slimy vases. Some of the concrete was cracked, others chipped.
Even in the dark of the shadows, the path was familiar to me. Walking between the rows of graves was the easy part, it wasn't until I stopped right in front of the known grave did my heart plummet into my stomach and bile rose in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes blurring my vision before I wiped them away with my sleeve.
"I-its been so long. And no day goes past where I don't think about you." Sobs wracked my body as I collapsed to the ground, clutching the headstone with my fingers. Breathing ragged and uncontrolled, I just sat there expressing my sorrow until I ran out of tears.
"We'll never forget you. Especially me." I sniffed and wiped my nose with my sleeve. The wind howled once more, whipping my hair to the side in an aggressive grasp.
The tree rustled in the wind, branches fraying enough for the moon to filter through the leaves and illuminate the name embedded within the concrete.
Lillian Holland
Loving wife, mother and best friend
Always selfless and caring
She will be missed dearly
1956 - 2016
~*~*~*
"Christie! Wake up!" Tom whispered from besides me. I looked at him drowisly and buried my head in my history book just as Mr Crook was coming to check on the class.
I could feel Tom's heated stare burning into the side of my face but I ignored him and started scribbling down the questions and answers from the text book.
"You haven't wrote much Christie. Are you struggling?" Finley asked as he poked his head over my shoulder and looked at my lack of work.
I jumped in my seat and turned my head slightly.
"No." I cleared my throat to rid myself of the pre-nap hoarseness. "I'm fine now thanks. I was struggling before but Tom here helped me." I smiled encouragingly, hoping he'd buy it. Mr Crook didn't take well to slackers.
He narrowed his eyes slightly before shrugging his shoulders.
"Okay. Tom, I'll write you a gold slip for helping her out." He said and walked over to his desk.
YOU ARE READING
Brokenhearted Girl (Continuing & Editing)
Teen Fiction"Anyway I want to show you this." he handed me a small piece of paper. I turned it over and it was a photograph. The same one I had with my dad, mum, baby me and toddler Aaron. "I have this photo." I said quietly. I ran my fingers over my dad. He lo...
