As I walk slowly to the bloody gruesome crime scene I snap on my gloves to examine the body of a girl much to young to have died. I can’t bear to have to tell her parents how she died, a brutal murder from an elusive well known murder all because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking at her beaten face with a long scar running from her eyebrow to her jaw oozing out bright red blood, I can tell she was a beautiful girl with a promising future, making me think of when I was that young looking forward to a career in science never thinking I would end up dissecting the bodies of murdered men and women. Do not get me wrong I love my job but it is hard to examine the body of a ten-year-old boy whom was hung from a tree because of a prank gone wrong by some older kids he was trying to impress. As I am looking around I find the note from the famous killer, which I do not usually read because I try to not become to involved in other areas of the crime. I notice something while reading the note I cannot quite put my finger on it. I am staring at this note thinking there is something eerily familiar with this handwriting; I look down at my sandaled foot where a delicate tattoo donning the words “I love you”. These words, the words that my father and I said to each other the last time we saw each other before he died, but the writing on my foot which I had gotten the artist to make look exactly like my fathers on one of my birthday cards, was exactly the same. It even had the short, yet prominent tail on the “y”. I am just going to take it back to the lab at have it examined for when it was written, maybe he wrote it a long time ago, I have no idea but there is not a doubt in my mind that it is indeed my fathers handwri...
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...dad. Connor comes up behind me and kisses my neck as tears roll out of my eye, he knows that this is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It was his suggestion anyway, he told me to write it down for generations come, as I am pouring out my disgruntled heart out onto these pages all I can think about is how I am supposed to tell my future children about their grandfather. Connor keeps telling me not to worry but he knows that I constantly fear our safety and my relentless killer of a father will eventually come looking for me. I know everything will eventually be all right but there is nothing that can get the look in my father’s eyes out of my head, the look of what am I doing with my life, the look of utter regret and sorrow. The look in my eyes of angst and pure rage as my dad tries to tell me that he didn’t mean to do what he did. The look of a liar.
I woke up at John Morris’ house, on his coach. As I knocked a flyaway hair out of my face I noticed my face was wet, with tears, and then it all hit me at once that my Dad and Mrs. Borden were dead. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I heard John Morris ask if I was alright, but that seemed like a completely different world, I responded with a meek okay, so Mr. Morris wouldn’t see me like this. That didn’t work though, I saw his tall shadowy figure ducking under the door frame with tea. As Mr. Morris sat down and put the tea on the coffee table in front of us, I turned my head and quickly wiped the tears from my eyes in hopes he wouldn’t see.
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
As he falls into a silent shell, filled with visions of killing his mom. He struggles desperately with the haunting truth. Reaching deep into his self he musters enough courage to go on.
After he had sat with her, he got up and walked away to stand near the door. I sat in the chair next to her bed and the first thing I did was grab her hand, I dropped my head down because I knew our time was coming close to being done, what no one understands is how much of an impact she had on my life. There may have been an 83 year age difference between her and I, but she was my mentor, my story teller, my care provider, she gave me the best advice, she cooked the best food, she was the one I always aimed to make proud, but most of all she was my best friend. “It’s okay to cry, sweetie” said my dad. I didn’t want to cry though, that’s not what grandma would have wanted, but I couldn’t help it, I started to cry a little. How was my dad not crying yet? How could he stay so strong, he was much closer to her than I was, but somehow he managed to stay strong throughout all of it. I sat by her for probably 15 minutes holding her hand, I stood up, hugged her, whispered into her ear “I love you great grandma and I’ll see you when I get there”, I kissed her cheek and turned to leave the room. My dad was standing behind me and I walked into his arms and started crying, I couldn’t handle knowing that this could be the last time that I
...a situation arose where death was a possibility I would stay by his side no matter what. The End is my favorite part. Rose is on the wooden thing while Jack is in the water. Their conversation brings me to tears every time. She is freezing, she’s ready to give up, and he tells her “Never let go.” I’ve had my times where I just wanted to die. I’ve asked Shawn, “Can I just die.” And he replies with a soft no, kisses my forehead, and sighs. He can see the pain I’m in, but he knows it will get better. I’ve cried for hours on his shoulder cuddled up into my blanket, and he holds me and tells me everything will get better. He plays with my hair and makes me feel better. “I’ll never let go.” My relationship with Shawn I believe is like Jack’s and Rose’s. Full of life and love.
In the morning my father was there to drive us to school. I didn’t ask about the argument that I had heard the night before. I just figured somethings were better left alone. I could tell by my father’s face that he was upset. In all my fourteen years I had never seen him this upset accept for the night that my grandfather died.
As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the car, the questions began.
Right then and there I remember Wayne. I remember his face, his scent, his charm, and our memories. Everything comes flowing back. Prom, the lake, school, the beach, and everything else. I then wonder if he made it, if he’s okay, and if I might see him again. I had not really thought about him since I got this job as a nurse and moved to New York City, but before that I missed him like crazy and wanted him to come home. Then out of nowhere he kisses me. Wayne, that same boy I was just thinking about, my boyfriend from high school who was drafted into the war was home, was here, and was kissing me. I hadn’t seen him since graduation day. That day was the last day I received a hug, a kiss, a glance, anything from him, and that day was the last time I saw him until now. He has me wrapped up in his arms. I kiss him back with all my strength, and once the kiss came to an end I began to cry. “Why are you crying beautiful?” Wayne said to me. “It’s been so long I thought you would have forgotten about me” I reply. “I could never forget about the girl of my dreams, the girl that I love, and the girl I can’t live without” said Wayne. Then at that moment he got down on one
It was a beautiful night. It was perfect for a walk. As I strolled further into the park a figure approached me. It was as dark as pitch so I couldn’t make out who it was. It was late; you wouldn’t usually see anyone at this time. My heart was beating faster and faster. The strange thing was I wasn’t frightened; it was just my heart beating rapidly. As the masculine figure approached, I began to walk slower. That was when I heard the voice.
The phone rang from the other side of the room; I ran to the sound of it, thinking it was my mom calling to see how my first day of summer vacation was going. I was about to be a sophomore in high school. I picked up the home phone and said, “hello?” Instantly when I heard the voice on the other end, my stomach dropped. Sweat began to build on my pale forehead. While on the phone I ran into my old sister’s room to wake her from her nap. She was a typical senior in high school that slept all day. The women on the other line told me “I need to speak to your mother, Michael has been in an accident at work…” I Interrupted asking if he was ok in a weak, shaky voice. She kept telling me, “I’m sorry, I cannot release that Information.” I cried out of pure fear “That’s my dad, what happened to my dad”. I gave the women my mom’s work number even though they were no longer married. All that was going through my mind was ‘he’s dead, why else would they call my mom? I sat on my bed crying, all of my emotions left my body and my heart started to race.
.... Finally, my parents arrived, riding the sound of their running footsteps on the hollow wooden dock. Dad immediately relieved my weary arms of their burden and pulled my brother out of the cold blue lake. I looked up into my Mom's face to see tears of mixed panic and joy as she embraced my younger brother, heedless of the world that surrounded the two of them. She focused only on her son, who looked back at her silently with deep brown chestnut eyes.
I am jarred out of a relaxing sleep by a voice yelling my name in a loud whisper, and a light burning through my eyelids. Groggily, I open my eyes to see my father standing in the doorway to my messy room. He tells me that I need to get going, that it is 3:00 a.m., and I'm burning daylight. I find my clothes and get dressed. The whole time I wonder why I get up this early to visit the rugged outdoors. I want to go back to bed, but I know my dad will be back in to make sure I am getting ready, in a little bit. Instead, I put my boots and my wide-brimmed, black cowboy hat on, and walked out to catch the horses. The horses are all excited because it is dark and they are not that cooperative. My dad and I get them saddled and in the trailer, and go back into the house to get our lunch, water, and a cup of coffee. Now, we can head for the high country.
In 2010 when I was just 12 years old my dad had a heart attack.I was devastated what was I supposed to do without my dad at such a young age if I lost him so soon I would have no one to hold me when I 'm was hurt,no one to give me advice when I make mistakes or let alone I would have no one to walk me down the aisle.
When I think back to my childhood memories of my father, I remember most his thirst
Bored out of my mind on a cold and rainy day, my friends invited me to attend a live basketball game in Oakland, California. I felt ecstatic since I have never gone to a NBA game before. I realized that the place I needed to arrive at was around twenty miles away from my home. I was not willing to take the bus all the way from San Francisco to Oakland with this horrible weather. Caught in the excitement, I took my dad's car keys without his consent and decided to drive to the arena in Oakland with no driver's license.