Flowers of Death

  He was dead. My uncle whom I barely knew. I was only five years old. I layed down in my mom’s lap when she told me. I laughed. I don’t know why. He was my uncle and I laughed.

     The day of his funeral, everyone wore black except me. I chose a bright colorful pink shirt with a skirt that had blue, green, pink and purple flowers on it. I greeted everyone smiling, bearing my teeth. They were all pink-eyed and puffy, searching for a smile to give me but couldn’t. They showed pictures of him on a giant screen. My uncle. Afterwards, I went outside on a hill. It was tall and  covered in tiny white flowers. I sat on the top picking them. While everyone was sharing tears and stories, I was picking these little white flowers. Then, I thought: If this place is held for funerals, all these flowers might be for all the people who passed? I picked these flowers, the ones meant for the deceased . I ripped out all the petals. These beautiful flowers that I ruined because I didn’t know. Just like my uncle. 

Reap What You Sow

When you’re in kindergarten, everything is a blur. I remember hearing the sounds of roaring hippopotamuses stepping on legos and meerkats rummaging around in the dirt outside.  So many kids. Except one. He walked up to me, smiled, then shook my hand. From then on, we walked, talked, played, and raged. Until the next day at school. He bit me. All by himself and it hurt. I told the teacher and she separated us. Just like that.  The next day at school, I bit him back. What he did I followed. He never once spoke to me again after that. And he vanished into the night with my laughter.  What happened to the kid that shook my hand? He was gone and I was alone. Now.

All Alone In The Darkness

I was out camping with my family and our friends. We planned to be up in the middle of the deserted mountains for two days. Rain, wind, sun, and heat seemed to follow us wherever we went. I felt like I couldn’t breathe no matter where I was. Suffocating. One night, however, my uncle decided that we should look for the perfect place to fish the next morning. We waited till dusk to leave camp. By the time we left, there was a sliver of the burning sun that illuminated the sky with a swirl of cotton candy. It was easy for  us to climb down the giant hill and into the woods. The dark woods with a small stream. We were able to locate the perfect area with a concrete wall that hid a section of water away from the rest of the stream, attracting most fish.

We went to head back, but realized that it was pitch black outside. Impossible to see two feet in front of us. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. My parents were nowhere to be found, yet I was stuck with my younger brother and his friend. I told them to not stray and stay by me. I heard a gust of wind swish through the trees. I turned my head towards the direction of the shattering leaves, and as my eyes adjusted in the darkness, I started to see a trail from the way we came. It was like the woods opened its heart for us in order to save us from the darkness that we were facing. The path appeared more and more as we got closer to camp. My brother and his friend were breathing down my neck with desperation the whole time. Once we saw our tents, the woods seemed to give us a push with its graceful leaves, getting through the final tree. We all let out a gasp of relief as we made it out of the woods with bugs, animals, streams, trees, that showed their monstrous side at nighttime. The woods saved us and there was no other truth to that. When my parents were gone. When I had no ideas left. The woods were there when I needed someone the most. I thought I was all alone, but I was wrong. When no one else was there, the woods were. (final story)