My life had changed, and not solely for the better. At least, it did not seem that way at the time. How do you explain to those standing in line that you would much rather be anywhere but greeting them at that moment? How do you tell them to leave, and give you a moment of much needed reprieve from the over stifling attention of your family and friends? The answer is simple: you don't. You grit your teeth and let them shower you with apologies, flowers, hugs, and looks of pity. However, what grated on my nerves the most was the same phrase that I kept hearing over and over again, "I'm so sorry". I could not explain exactly why it bothered me so much, besides the fact that each time I heard it, it was accompanied by sad, pitying eyes and an awkward hug. I endured it, though. Not once did I leave my parents and my oldest brother to stand alone next to the body of my best friend, my brother. I did not remember much of what happened that night, or the next day, or the next, but I did remember the pain of the gaping hole left in my fifteen year-old heart, as I watched my parents fall apart in front of me. I knew then that I needed to be strong, that I needed to help hold my parents' broken hearts together. Even though I knew that my parents loved each other and would never leave one another, I had that small fear inside of me that I would watch them drift away from each other like so many other parents that lose a child; but their love held strong. It would be several years later that I would look back to see that if I could have changed what happened, I would not. A part of me matured and was wizened faster than it should have, and if I had been able to prevent his death... well, something tells me that he would not have lived as happy of a life as he had.
Nearly six years later, I found my family finally healing a little. We had one picture of him up in our new house, and we would talk about him to other people. Though my love for him never diminished, I often found myself trying to remember the way his voice sounded and trying to recall his little idiosyncrasies that made him who he was. There was one thing we both shared and bonded over. Music. Everything about it would catch and hold my interest, and people would often catch me humming quietly under my breath, no matter where I was. Lyrics were nearly the only things that would stay in my head and were quickly memorized, much to the amusement of my friends and co-workers. I could often be found in my room playing my guitar or reading a book when I was not at work or working on my classwork. I preferred a quiet life. I was naturally observant and preferred to stay in the shadows while everyone else stole life's spotlight. I was always shy, and people that had just met me, often mistook me for being uppity or snobbish.
What I did not know was that my life was about to take another drastic turn. Not long after I had graduated from high school, I had moved to another town about 30 minutes away from my parents, so that I could attend the local community college. I had a decent job and a small apartment. I thought life was finally taking a turn for the better. However, one day I received a phone call that turned my life upside down. My parents and my older brother were driving to a football game. I was unable to go because I was too busy with work and classes to get away. The weather had turned into a terrible thunderstorm, making visibility near non-existent. My father, even though he was driving as carefully as he could, was not able to see a car that had broken down in the middle of the road. He hit the car, and with the impact they were slung off the road and down a cliff through the guardrail. The police had found one of their phones and found my name as an emergency contact. When they told me they were sending a patrol car to pick me up to identify the bodies, I felt completely numb and most of all frightened. I did not know what was going to happen to me. I kept telling myself that it was all a bad dream, and I would wake up any second to find that everyone was safe and asleep in their own beds. When I got to the morgue, my knees had been shaking so badly that the cop escorting me had to nearly hold me upright, and when they pulled back the first sheet I wept like I had never wept before or since.
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This is a story about a girl traveling to another world. Yes, I know, another one of those, "girl falls into Middle Earth" stories. But I am going to try my best to not make it into one of those completely cliche and unbelievable stories that you know would never happen in real life. My goal is to make it as real as possible but still have that fantasy feeling to it. I hope you enjoy my newest book!
YOU ARE READING
Her Resurrection
Fanfiction"My life had changed, and not solely for the better. At least, it did not seem that way at the time." A young woman goes missing in a small southern town. What the residents do not know is that she has not only gone missing from their town...
