Personal Narrative: A Mother's Death At A Funeral

Morning brought with it heavy rain.
Even though it was raining, the funeral wasn't that bad; the man said lovely things about mother. About how it was a tragedy she had died so young, and how she died peacefully in her sleep, but I knew better. I had heard mother screaming that night, I can usually remember everything. Mother likes to call it ‘photographic memory’, but I think something bad must have happened to mother because I can’t remember. I only remember the good things and the okay things; I tend to forget the scary things I don't like. The doctor man calls it ‘coping’. They buried mother under the willow tree, which made me sad; the poor willow tree had seen enough death. Under the willow tree is where daddy killed a man; he did it

I went to the back door and moved the potted plant. That stupid b***h hadn’t moved it. I stared at the dumb plant and remembered when she brought it home; she bought some stupid cactus that didn't fit with everything else. I ran my hand over the leaf and relished the faint pain that came with it. I unlocked the door and went straight to her room; where she was asleep. I thought about what I would do next, considering how little she was wearing, but I didn't want to wake the kid. I put my hands around her neck and squeezed, hard. She jerked awake and the fire in her eyes made me lose my grip momentarily. She let out a scream in my lapse of concentration, which I silenced immediately. I watched the life slowly leave her as she flailed and gasped for air. The moment she fell unconscious I dragged her out of the house and towards where the willow tree stood. After a moments’ consideration I undid the swing from its ropes and tied a noose; I put the noose around her neck and tightened the cord. I then locked the back door and drove off. I looked at the blood on my hands from where I cut her wrists by the willow; suddenly a truck came barrelling down the wrong side of the road. In an attempt to avoid the truck I swerved and hit a tree, dying instantly.This year it was a police man who came to talk to me, his name was Teal which reminded me of Scarlet. How silly are all these police people?

The sheets felt scratchy like someone used the wrong detergent, and this bothered me. A policeman came in, and said his name was Patrol Officer Periwinkle. He said they had located my Aunt Petunia and I needed to pack some things to go live with her. An hour later I had my hamburger backpack filled with my books and clothes and Mr Bearacus. I knew Mr Bearacus would protect me from anything that might happen with this lady. The car ride was long and boring, and I watched the scenery pass me by. The sky was a happy blue with soft clouds; it didn't feel right because that’s not how I felt inside. I was sad that mother was gone, but the sky was happy. I arrived at ‘ Aunt Petunia’s ’ house, it smelt nice, like gingerbread and rain. She said she was happy to see me, the officer whispered something about having found a possible killer. Her demeanour stiffened, which made me scared. I asked him what killer he was talking about; he said it was about something else and not to worry. So I didn't worry; police men don't lie, right? Auntie says she hopes I’ll be happy here; I hope so