The GraveA Story by BrooklynI followed my mother and father
through the iron gates and into the cemetery. They walked side by side up the
dirt path. They had long ago memorized the way to the particular headstone that
we were walking toward. My mother knelt by the grave as she always did. The
autumn leaves crunched under her weight. The trees had mostly shed their leaves
by this time in November. November seventeenth. My birthday. My mother’s shoulder quaked in sobs
and she buried her face in her hands. My father knelt down to comfort her. He
held her as she cried and soon tears began their shaky path down his tanned
face, dampening his black beard. I stood near by, watching them. I
looked sadly at the grave and decided to join my parents by it. I put my hand
on my mother’s shoulder and she shivered. We stayed like that for a long
time. Until my mother’s tears run dry and she stood up. She took my father’s
hand and turned away from the headstone. They began walking tot the silver
Saturn parked by the road outside of the gates. She looked back at the grave
fleetingly. “We’ll be with you one day,” she whispered to the stone. Sooner than you think, I thought, but
didn’t say anything out loud. I know what happens next. I know that my
mother begins to cry again in the car as she is driving. She’s not going to see
the little boy who runs into the road after his ball. When she does see him,
all there is left to do is swerve. The impact of them hitting an oak causes her
to die instantly and my father to die seconds later. I take one last look at the
headstone. Alexandra Carla Morgan~ born and died on November 17th
1995. I’ll see you very soon, Mother. © 2012 BrooklynReviews
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6 Reviews Added on August 30, 2012 Last Updated on August 30, 2012 AuthorBrooklynwhy do you want to know?, MAAboutI'm a fourteen year old girl that is now in her freshman year of highschool. wish me luck!. I'm awful at spelling, and I need to work on "down time" in stories. I also can't seem to write one book for.. more..Writing
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