Foward

"Dad, can we go somewhere warm?" I asked as we walked hand in hand, an ice cream cone gripped in the other. The sun was just beginning to set and a warm breeze brushed past us. 
    "We are somewhere warm." He reminded me, biting into his cone. I smiled and jumped over a crack in the side walk. 
      "No, I mean, like the Caribbean , or Mexico." I said licking a bit of my ice cream. " I think it would be fun, we deserve it too." I added. He grinned and looked down at me, then kissed my forehead with his warm lips.
       "Sure Jill," He said laughing, taking another bite of his icecream. I sighed and pulled on his large hand so he would stop.
       "Promise me we can go." I said holding out my pinky, I felt even at age 16 pinky promises were the ultimate promise, and they could not because of the law of the universe be broken. He locked pinkies with me.
      "Jill I promise we will go somewhere warm and tropical." I grinned and we walked home talking, about our to be trip.


I rolled over and looked at my alarm lock. 11:00 am. I frowned and yawned. Dad had let me sleep in today, that was odd, I hope he is feeling well. I remembered this one time Dad was sick, and he slept till noon, nothing got done for two weeks. I slipped into my fuzzy slippers, that Aunt Molly had gotten me a few weeks ago, saying everyone could use a new pair of slippers. I shuffled down the hall and cracked open the door to the master bedroom. "Dad?" I called stepping inside. I grinned, dad was sprawled out in his usual way, twisted in the sheets, feet and hands flung over the side of the bed. "Dad!" I yelled and shook him playfully. But he did not stir. "Dad! Dad!" I said again, and I leant over him, and realized in a horrifying moment, that he was not breathing. I tore down the hall, and dialed 911. 

"DAD!!!" I screamed as they pushed the sheet covered body into the ambulance. "DAD!!" I screamed again as my neighbors held me back. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. "YOU PROMISED!" I screamed as the white and red truck drove down the street "YOU PROMISED" I screamed again struggling in my nieghbors arms. Tears streamed down my face and  I wanted do die. I curl up and die, it wasn't real, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't true.

 

 

Welcome all Readers! This is a short story about Jillian Cook. Jillian lived with her Mom, Dad, and her older brother Sam. That was until Jillian was four, and her mother a school teacher was killed in a school shooting. Jillian Cook lived with her Dad and older brother Sam. That was until she was ten, and her brother was killed when a bat struck him in the head at baseball practice. Jillian Cook lived with her Dad. That that worked for six happy years.

Just to tell any readers. This is fictional writing (though inspired by a real life) with some dark themes, mention of suicide, drugs ect; There is no sex, only mention of the act. I here by give this writing a rating of PG-13. If anyone tries to mess with me on this, prepare to go DOWN. I was very upset over what happen to another writer on this site. I loathe people who go around and mess with others writings. 

Smut is okay as long as it is well marked. I might have some sex in this later on, it will be well marked, if it ever occurs. PG-13, be advised, don't screw with me, I take my writing very seriously and I grew up in New York City. I'm tough as nails. grrrrr.