Well, hi. I'm Colin, and this is my first story on this site c:
As I opened my eyes, I took a deep breath and looked down at the quaint town where I had lived for the past 15 years. It was a small town, with the closest school 3 miles away. All that was in this town was a police station, a supermarket, a petrol station, and around 5 houses, no people my age, or younger here.
I remembered what it was like when Dad said we were moving from Michigan to this town just outside Indiana. He told me all about the sights and how much I would love this place. My mom wasn't sure if this was a good choice for him to make, for our family. They would be moving away from the family house, that had housed over 5 generations of the Palmer family.
I remember when I was younger, Dad used to sit on the worn down couch, and bring me and Mom over to sit on both sides of him. He used to tell us about his childhood, how they used to have to mine coal just to keep warm during the harsh winters. Times like that, I usually fell asleep and never knew how it ended, and he used to pull me up and tuck me into bed, his lips brushing my head as he whispered goodnight to me.
That was before the tragedy.
The week before we were planned to move, my mom got a call. I was up in my room, packing away the last of my stuff, taking my posters off the wall, so that I wouldn't have to panic to get rid of everything before we left.
I had just finished packing away the last of my clothes before I heard a scream coming from the kitchen. I rushed down and arrived to see my mom on the floor, sobbing grossly. I ran over to her and grabbed her and hugged her madly. 'M- Mom... what happened?' I said, quietly, shaking madly.
'Aly, it's your father. He's dead.'
