Will's Exposition: Short Story

04/20/2014 12:38

Short Story: Exposition




      It happened without any warning. It was a bomb that exploded through the phone. They didn’t even think about me! They just said a simple “I’m Sorry” cover-up. They don’t care about me and they never did. When my parents left me they didn’t give any kind of goodbye. And I know they aren’t coming back.


Because they are dead.


       I say this without any source of simplicity. My tears stain this page that will be copied over and over again for any readers sake. My cheeks are wet and I can barely see this page. But I will keep writing until my fingers ache and the pages in this book are completely wet. This must confuse you and all of the other readers because I haven’t given you any kind of explanation of what happened or why I hate myself. So I will start with this:


      My parents died in the explosion that killed three people and injured two hundred sixty four. They shouldn’t have died. Or I should’ve been there with them but I refused at that time. When I think back it seems that I would rather do nothing in my old apartment than hold my parents hands and die with them. And I am sickened by the thought that will always stay in my mind of my selfish doing. Now I have no family and I have nothing.


I will never forgive myself.


       I have to get out of this place before I strangle myself with disappointment. But I still can’t believe that a nineteen-year-old boy could kill my parents with a bomb. I used to think my parents were invincible. Back when they were alive and I thought hiding under my covers would make me invisible. When we all sat at are small table in our small apartment. And we would pass plates full of breakfast, lunch, and dinner while listening to the sounds of New York five o’clock traffic. And sirens and horns would sound every five minutes. When you lived there longer you would get used to it. But my parents didn’t get to live a long life in that small apartment. And they never will be again.


        I still can’t believe I could’ve been so gullible. I should’ve known better and maybe I wouldn’t be as hurt today.


        I need to get out of the apartment where my parents abandoned lots and lots of memories. I have to get away from the life my parents used to live in or I will never have a life! I don’t want to make the memory of my parents disappear but I don’t think my parents would want me to live a life in debt to them. I have to get away from the place where my parents smiled and frowned and lived their daily life in. My parent’s souls will stay with me forever but if I stay in the place where my parent’s souls once lied I will never live life to the fullest.


       The past should be in the past, right? But it seems that the past will only ruin my present and my future! Right now the past is coming up my throat and making me force out a scream that will only make my tears sting worse.


        My parents shouldn’t have died on April 15, 2013. They were so close to the finish line. But that bomb wouldn’t let them run any further. They shouldn’t have died in the Boston Marathon of 2013. And although they didn’t get to see a finish line I hope this isn’t where there finish is, I hope this is just the starting line of a new beginning.


For them,


And for me.