What was taken

Prolouge

Death....It means sorrow, sadness, empty condolences and belated regrets. To me, that is what death is.

Death, can mean many things, to many people. It can mean happiness, Anger, Shock and any other emotion known to the world.

It's much to often people think of death as another event that comes and goes without reason. It's so much more than that, it's almost..gratitude, to know that you lived. Even if it's short...you lived.

It is scary to me, to think of death the way most do. What is a scarier way to define death? An end, or a beginning?

To say these things out loud will surely get me an appointment with a shrink, labeled a troubled child. Besides, it's my turn. To stand up and say my final goodbyes to a stranger I never knew, a friend of my mothers.

I walk in my loud flats across the room. I hear them, my flats echoing off the smooth mahogany floor. My mother has her hand clasped in mine. Obviously, this was not a close friend, No red lines down her cheeks that showed the signs of tears, and little sadness was clearly displayed in her facial expression and physical movement.

As I stood, raised upon the deceased elderly woman I flinched, she was a lifelike doll, blush and all. Curiosity consumed me and I lowered my small petite innocent hand into the coffin,but her skin was ice-cold. I took a piece of white scratchy paper out of her hair and opened up the hurried fold.

In messy writing, I began sounding out the words that were on the paper.

Mackenzie,

I have been planning something for over a year now, and it's going to be great! It will happen in years though, so this is your only warning!

- Stranger

Once I read the note, it was time to leave. I dropped the note on the floor, partly shock, and partly my clumsiness.

I swear, I saw the dead woman's face turn up a smirk before her neutral expression returned.

I panicked and told mother, and she believed I was seeing things. Maybe I was.

I was only six....