Its Monday. I decided that each Monday, I will posting a new blog post. These posts will be either book tags, stories, poetry, and book reviews. Lets see how long this will last.
Genre: christian fiction, short story
Synopsis: Fiona’s world begins to fall apart. After a recent gun shooting, her biggest supporter is gone. Now she is struggling to keep the faith, keep her grades up, and stay out of trouble. Will Fiona keep the faith in one of the darkest times of her life? Or will she blame God for losing her father?
Part One (The Bus Stop)
Rain poured down from the horizon as I lifted up my heavy book bag over my head. Rushing to the closest subway stop, I collapsed into the seat. I gasped as I realized that my science essay had fallen out of my bag and was soaking in a nearby puddle. Leaning my head back as I sighed. What was I going to tell mom?
The creaking of the bus stopped beside the subway as my ears cringed from the squeaky noise of the tires. Holding my back tight across my chest, I stood up and headed toward the door of the bus.
As the door opened my rival, Charles Avery stepped out of the bus.
He smirked in a mischievous matter. He raised his eyebrows as he saw me. “Oh hello, failing Fiona how is school treating you?”
I nodded my head trying to avoid the anger boiling inside of me.
“So how is doing school at home? Is it true that your mom pulled you out of school because you are failing?”
She bit her lip. It was true. I was failing. Failing so poor my GPA was under a 3.0. “No, my mom that it best for a better environment.”
He laughed. “Seriously, that is your answer. You will never be going to Harvard, Fiona. You are a failure just like your father.”
My father was not a failure. He died saving people’s lives. My heart began to race as I knew the waterworks were coming. “You’re just jealous. My father saved lives.”
“Your father could have stayed at the hospital where he belonged but no he decided to go the shooting and he was next victim of another shooting.”
“At least he was a hero and died a hero. Your father is a coward and only cares for himself.”
Throwing a punch toward me, I fell hard on the sidewalk. I knew I shouldn’t have at said but sometimes he has always got on my nerves. As my eyes fluttered open as one of my eyes squinted as the ache from the punch entered. He had punched me in the eye. What will I tell mom? Lifting myself off the ground, I realize that my backpack is out of sight. Rubbing my forehead, I stood up. Gathering up my dirty blonde hair in a ponytail, I head north off of Henry Street toward my neighborhood.
My spine shivered as past the theater where my father and so many victims died. Why did my father have to die? He could have lived a long life, but no you had to kill him. He was my backbone. I looked up in the sky. What do you want from me? You killed my father. You did it.