150
150 death stories
  13
  •  
  0
  •   1 comment
Share

mariaokumura
mariaokumura Currently adventuring in my head...
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Short story.

150

M.O.

"Jaynie?" My dear friends call.

I watch their tear filled faces as they stare at me.

"Why?" My mother babbles into incoherent words as her face turns into a waterfall.

My dad is stoic as always, he watches me like the rest but shows no sign of emotions.

Maybe someone will come around later, asking them all sorts of questions about me.

About how it happened.

Maybe I'll be in all the newspapers, if I'm not already.

I'm one of those people that falls into that neat little statistic of 150 a year.

I lay in a shiny coffin, its very fancy looking.

It doesn't fit me.

Closed casket.

I'm only a teenager, it really doesn't fit me.

My mother wishes I was still just a missing person, that way there would be hope that I was still alive.

My father does too, I think.

A little old lady went to the grocery store a little less than a week ago.

She's the one who found me.

I'm glad she didn't have a heart attack or stroke or something.

I was positioned like a lifeless doll by her walking path.

I was wearing a tight little black dress, something you'd never see me wear if I were alive.

Bright red lips.

Hair curled to the side.

Laying gracefully on the gravel by the old baseball field.

Apart from all the stitches in my skin I was the picture of beauty.

And you know, the fact that I was dead.

Someone killed me.

And now I'm just a statistic.

One of the 150 this year.

That's how I'll be remembered by the world.

Not for anything I did.

For what he did to me.

I'll be a cautionary tale, but a boring one.

I wasn't sneaking out or doing anything wrong.

I just existed.

I'll disappear into the 150...

What a waste.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (1)
SHOUTOUTS (0)