I just need some one to rate my story an tell me if i misspelled some words and tell me whats wrong. This is my first novel at 13 years old.
Darkness...That was all just darkness. Where was I was a mystery until I heard a woman shriek from somewhere beyond. I was pulled from my hand towards the scream. This had happened before. I was pulled into a velvet room with a child and mother. The mother with long flowing light hair stood among three large men in black as the child quickly hid herself in an oak chest at the foot of the large bed. That woman, like many nights before stood before the men protecting her child. The men advanced and attacked my mother.
A sudden flood of tears gushed down my pale cheeks staining the carpeted floor as I witness of what was to be the death of my mother again. I remembered this night. The dark men beat my mother?s fragile body as she looked at me, not the child with her sapphire like eyes begging for help. She said that she loved me, she said to let it all out in a raspy voice with tears because she said that I cried she would cry with me.The men kept beating her until the sounds of cracking filled the dark room. Blood spattered everywhere. One man left my mother and towards her desk. From his pocket a lighter was thrown onto the desk igniting it. Flames burned and spread as he did the same to all wood made furniture. I felt like a monster. There I was able to help her, to at least open the door to let my father and brother in but instead I became that child, me, behind her oak chest, layers of blankets above my head. My mother`s eyes, those were the things I remember most.
Those sapphire eyes.
I cried for my brother. I cried for my father. I cried most for my mother who laid on the ground as the men stopped beating her. They went through everything, destroying everything. When my brother and my father finally broke down the door, rifles in hand, it was too late. The men in black were gone, the room completely destroyed. Curtains yanked from their places, the status all broken, and the desk completely burned. In the midst of it all, laid my mother in a puddle of her life. Her face broken like a china dolls after a fall, and her body was twisted in so many ways it seemed impossible. I crawled towards her life-less body, my rushing clear tears turning red when they hit her face. I fell. I didn't`t care, I curled up next to my mother whimpering. Her blond hair soaked red, torn cloths, and beaten up face, I ignored it all. She was just sleeping I thought, just sleeping. My mother would wake up and we could go into the garden to play. She?s okay, she?s going to wake up soon. She wouldn't?t leave you. She loved you?
Inside the car it was quiet, the noise of the engines even and subdued, the air deathly cold, the windows tight-fitting. I in a black dress on the back seat, a sapphire box, unopened, besides me, and a blue lotus, wilted. The graveyard burial grounds slowly flowed past dark tinted windows.
The thundering rain drenched the grounds. Dark tress dripping with ice cold rain. In an opening of the center was a hole, a coffin with a glass top suspended. Many people were there surrounding it, in black, mourning and saying there words. My father holdincandidaters knelt by the coffin with my brother wailing at his side. The priest in his dark flowing robes said finale words as the coffin was lowered and everyone moved back. My mother?s pale face beautiful if not for the craters on her face. Sapphire eyes never to open again. Whispers. The guests were insulting me, pointing at my place by a tree. I knew. From there places they scowled at me for dressing in blue and not in black. They said that my mother?s death meant nothing to me, that I was glad that she was gone.
They were wrong, so wrong but what they thought was half true.
Like an observer. I felt like an observer. Standing by the tree, far from the funeral I cry without a voice, the cold depressing rain stabbing at my body as my heart is burning in anger as I blame an unknown entity for stealing my mother.
Why? Why did you take her away? Do you find joy in seeing my misery, while I stand far from my mother?s grave? Does it amuse you to see other people stare at me with disgust as I look down at the mud gathered around my feet? Tell me, why have you taken my mother? I ask now who will sing my lullaby?s to my while I sleep? Who will keep father from losing his job? Who will help my brother and me from when harm comes near? Who will tell me the tales of the other world? ?Give me back my mother!? I screamed with a silent cry to the darken sky. That day I was just ten years old, yet you wanted to see me in despair so you took her. Why, why, WHY! GIVE BACK MY MOTHER!
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