Campfire Story

Untitled-2 - Other
--This story is open for another 99 entries
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Jul 19, 2008 12:37 AM Introduction
kalikala1980 started with:
Joanna held her father’s hand in her own. She knew that Death skulked in the shadows just waiting. It was only matter of time before He would come and rip her father from the world of the living for Death was not meant to be kind. She listened to her father’s labored breathing and knew it was impossible to deny this. Still silently she prayed. “Daddy why’d you have to wait so long to tell anyone?” “You know how he was Joanna.” Joanna turned to see her mother. The years had not been kind to Cecila. Her once brilliantly blonde hair was now faded to a dull ash color. Her cobalt blue eyes had long since lost their luster. Lines seemingly etched themselves into deep grooves on Cecila’s face. No, life had not been kind. “Why are you here?” Joanna stood and faced her mother. “How you can you even ask me that?” “It’s not like you’ve bothered to show up before…or even ever,” Joanna stated accusingly. “Joanna.” “Don’t Mother….its always the same excuse…..I…..I just don’t want to hear it this time.” Joanna held her father’s hand in her own hoping for something…some sign of life. Cecila moved closer to her daughter and laid her hand on Joanna’s shoulder. “Don’t!” Joanna jerked at her mother’s touch.
Nov 01, 2008 01:35 AM Entry #1
Maybe it was irrational to do such a thing, maybe not. But actually seeing this man, her father, so weak, so inadequate, saddened her. There wouldn't be another time to tell him how she felt, or what had actually happened. the unkind truth of the situation at hand had made it impossible to think. it made it impossible for Joanna to say what she'd really meant to say. It was there, inching at her mind, when all of a sudden it would leave as she tried to grab hold of it. Her father was going to die. There was no cure for this. There would never be, because this wasn't normal, this was murder. It was spiteful, untraceable, unprovable murder. It was like making a set of stairs too slick to walk down on purpose so someone would undoubtedly fall. There would be no way to make you guilty. In the back of her mind there would have been the seed of thought of revenge. But not now. Not in this situation. And definitely not without limit or mindlessness. The forest around her was too dark, it was getting late in the day. The trees towered into wicked silhouettes contrasted to the becoming night sky. Joanna took frightful awareness of this as her father lay, dying beneath the canopy of stars. But off in the distance, a light flickered.