A
auoc
Guest
This is a prologue to a story i'm writing, one i will actually get published. This is a draft, so I came here for feedback. I write when i'm stressed, so i've got a lot to share, buuuttttt i'll only do a little bit.
I was thirteen when my life ended. Arianna was six, and the twins were only three. But it's been a while, since hell broke loose. I still haven't forgiven myself.
For what I did.
For who I killed.
Our very own Mother. Arianna, Calvin, Reese, Mom. All dead. Here, as fast as flame. Gone, as fast as the wind comes. And it was my fault, even if the police called me innocent and grieving.
It was precisely six-o-five PM on a Saturday when Calvin and Reese came running in when their snow-crested shoes on, slipping and sliding along the kitchen floor. "Shay, Shay, what's for dinner, Shay?" Little Calvin had questioned. I smiled. "Ramen, little duckling." I picked him up and spun him around, then set him down to go run along with Reese. To them, I was more like their Mother than our own would ever be. It was at six-o-eight when disaster finally struck.
It was unexplainable, what happened. I couldn't explain it if I tried. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know, actually. I'd always been strangely drawn to fire. If I ever saw it, it would capture my attention, away from whatever else was happening. I hadn't been able to make it surge until I was nine. I was in the living room, watching the pathetic scrap of fire struggle for life, when I wished for it to do so, and it sprung to life, then dissolved into ash. That wasn't proof, but it was somewhere to start.
Now, back to reality. I was staring at the flame underneath the pot on the stove, when it began to spring. And again. And again. And again. Until the whole stove was engulfed in beautiful, hot, red death. My mind had frozen. It refused to be of use. But what shook me back to reality wasn't the engulfing flames searing my skin, or the red hot pain spreading through the house. It was the cries of Calvin. The cries of Reese. Of Arianna.
And of Mom.
That's, my REALITY.
THOUGHTS? OPINIONS? i'm excited for this, i'm in love with writing, which is why i have three hard drives full of stories, upon stories, upon stories.
I was thirteen when my life ended. Arianna was six, and the twins were only three. But it's been a while, since hell broke loose. I still haven't forgiven myself.
For what I did.
For who I killed.
Our very own Mother. Arianna, Calvin, Reese, Mom. All dead. Here, as fast as flame. Gone, as fast as the wind comes. And it was my fault, even if the police called me innocent and grieving.
It was precisely six-o-five PM on a Saturday when Calvin and Reese came running in when their snow-crested shoes on, slipping and sliding along the kitchen floor. "Shay, Shay, what's for dinner, Shay?" Little Calvin had questioned. I smiled. "Ramen, little duckling." I picked him up and spun him around, then set him down to go run along with Reese. To them, I was more like their Mother than our own would ever be. It was at six-o-eight when disaster finally struck.
It was unexplainable, what happened. I couldn't explain it if I tried. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know, actually. I'd always been strangely drawn to fire. If I ever saw it, it would capture my attention, away from whatever else was happening. I hadn't been able to make it surge until I was nine. I was in the living room, watching the pathetic scrap of fire struggle for life, when I wished for it to do so, and it sprung to life, then dissolved into ash. That wasn't proof, but it was somewhere to start.
Now, back to reality. I was staring at the flame underneath the pot on the stove, when it began to spring. And again. And again. And again. Until the whole stove was engulfed in beautiful, hot, red death. My mind had frozen. It refused to be of use. But what shook me back to reality wasn't the engulfing flames searing my skin, or the red hot pain spreading through the house. It was the cries of Calvin. The cries of Reese. Of Arianna.
And of Mom.
That's, my REALITY.
THOUGHTS? OPINIONS? i'm excited for this, i'm in love with writing, which is why i have three hard drives full of stories, upon stories, upon stories.
ur sig