Sarah couldn't breathe. There was no air coming out of the vents, as if oxygen suddenly felt sparse and quickly dispersing elsewhere. Dad wasn't in his designated seat. But it seems they had reached their destination. The house looked familiar. It was still day although the sun had already begun to set from the right window. The heat pounded ferciously against the glass, demanding more sweat and red to perspire on her delicate skin. She lurched forward, then instantly retracted back into her seat once more. The complex cross belt strangled her chest and refused to loosen. Sarah's lungs heaved as panic began crashing down in waves. Why would he ever leave her? Fumbling to find the damn red button, her sweet innocent tears trickled down those round cheeks of hers. Crying out in utter frustration as she could not blink them away. Her small hands clawed at her strung up prison. Click. Release encouraged her to gasp for more air as she climbed her way to the front. Dad was no where in sight. Her tiny face burned full of loss, rage and confusion. She yanked at the handle which remained locked. Another pull at the door only sent her body flying backwards into the adjacent seat. She laid there crying and defeated. She savored every last breath as if it were her last until black dots emerged inward from her peripheral. The desperate child cried out hopelessly "DADDY!" over and over. "DADDY!" did not transcend outside that lonely minivan.
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You thought of an immortal angel
Hovering but not soaring Chained enough to watch But never to touch A world that is corrupt and unjust Bound by men who crave perfection White Porcelain with no cracks Women that only mirror your desire Your needs, your wants You expect independance from a goddess Who was stripped of such You thought of an immortal angel You thought less of a woman So here I am. Dead. Conscious, but dead. I can see everyone at my own wake. My beloved Margaret. Gertrude, my nurse. Damn Pnemonia got the best of me. Told myself I would make it eighty but sadly, foiled once more. All these other posers here I have no recollection of. Probably came for the after party. Oh boy, do I have something up my sleeve. Back when I was breathing I was the top prankster to my grandkids. Where the hell are they now? Anyway, wait I lost my train of thought. Even when I'm dead, I'm still senile. Pranks! Yes! Sure I have some tricks. Put a farting bag under Getrude's chair once. Twice. Well countless times actually but who's counting. I also pulled the ol' water bucket when my grandson opens the door...splash you got grandpa-ed. OH but Charles, you've out done yourself this time. That ring go invisibility! Got it at the pawnshop one afternoon back in '89. I admit, I always took things for granted. Hopefully it pays out. The Seller said it would disappear when the timer goes off. Thirty seconds. I look at my wife; anticipation rings through my ears. Dead ears to be precise. POOF! Her tears stopped streaming down and screamed at what was once my peaceful body in a casket..then she fainted. Oh buy, I'm not gonna hear the end of that.
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Chanel Ashley, small poet, breakfast connoisseur, and renowned reader among young adult fiction. ArchivesCategories |