Hello and a snippet of a story.
Hey everybody! I have some time before I have to leave for church, so I thought I'd pop on over and give you a blurb from my newest little project, yet to be named. It's just a skeleton of an idea thus far. But here goes!
"A local couple was killed Tuesday in a freak car accident, leaving their five surviving children orphaned." That's what the news blurb said. It's also what I was told. But i was believing it less and less. From where I stood at the podium during my parent's memorial service, I surveyed the mourners gathered in the church my father had pastored for the past twenty-odd years. I had grown up in this church. These people knew me, and knew me well. And yet none of them were suspicious about the accident as I was.
I had stood here for too long without speaking. Speak, you imbecile!
"As you all know," I began, shuffling my sparse notes. "My parents have served this community humbly for as long as I've been alive. It was their wish that any service be kept simple, and in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the local soup kitchen."
It used to freak me out on the few occasions they mentioned their own mortality, but now I wished I could somehow have been more prepared.
I wiped my clammy hands on my dress, a classy dark grey number that had been my mom's, because when I woke up this morning, I had only wanted to smell like her. Right now though, the smell seemed to suffocate me. I tugged on my collar, but it did little to help me breathe.
"Scarlet? Scarlet? Someone was saying my name, someone far away and small. "Are you alright, dear?"
I forced my eyes opened and realized that I was bent over at the waist, hands on my knees, willing air to make its way to my lungs.Too much. It was all too much.
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"A local couple was killed Tuesday in a freak car accident, leaving their five surviving children orphaned." That's what the news blurb said. It's also what I was told. But i was believing it less and less. From where I stood at the podium during my parent's memorial service, I surveyed the mourners gathered in the church my father had pastored for the past twenty-odd years. I had grown up in this church. These people knew me, and knew me well. And yet none of them were suspicious about the accident as I was.
I had stood here for too long without speaking. Speak, you imbecile!
"As you all know," I began, shuffling my sparse notes. "My parents have served this community humbly for as long as I've been alive. It was their wish that any service be kept simple, and in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the local soup kitchen."
It used to freak me out on the few occasions they mentioned their own mortality, but now I wished I could somehow have been more prepared.
I wiped my clammy hands on my dress, a classy dark grey number that had been my mom's, because when I woke up this morning, I had only wanted to smell like her. Right now though, the smell seemed to suffocate me. I tugged on my collar, but it did little to help me breathe.
"Scarlet? Scarlet? Someone was saying my name, someone far away and small. "Are you alright, dear?"
I forced my eyes opened and realized that I was bent over at the waist, hands on my knees, willing air to make its way to my lungs.Too much. It was all too much.
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