Writing

[novFilms]

when ever i wright for a grade i alwsae get a F. when i write cats and dogsdie and don't talk about earth exploding and uranus spliting in half.

[ItsSammy]

This is just one of my small writing projects which I got inspired to do after thinking up an alternate version of one of my favourite characters. It's not all that good since I wrote it in under ten minutes, but I thought it'd be nice to share one of my short writing projects instead of just hiding them away and never looking at them again.

 

“Why do bad things happen to good people?” frowning just slightly I looked down at the little boy sitting in front of me, his big green eyes staring into mine as he let out another curious question. He'd asked me once before why people had to die and I'd explained that everyone had to die at some point or other, but this question ... this was a question even adults still struggled to answer.
“Why do you ask?” I asked even though knew it had been due to the story I'd told him of his mother ... she'd died before he could even walk and he always wanted to know more about her, which I occasionally inclined to do even though it brought back so many painful memories.
“Because momma didn't do anything wrong.” the way his expression changed from one of curiousity to one of sadness made my heart ache. He was too young to be asking such grown up questions.
“No, but that's not what defines who lives and who dies.” I wasn't quite sure how to explain this situation to him. He was, after all, only six years old.
“Then why?” his head tilted to the side and his curly brown hair shifted with him. “Why did momma have to die?” he asked these questions so easily, as if they didn't tear him apart inside, but he was just a child and I couldn't expect him to feel as much pain and regret as I did. I'd be surprised if he could even remember her ...
“When you play in the meadow, which flowers do you pick?”
“The pretty ones!” he blurted out as his smile quickly came back making his eyes light up. “That way we can keep them in the vase by the window.” his little smile brightened his entire face and I felt my regret growing ... She should be here to see him grow up, to see him smile and laugh. She should have been here when he first said her name, or picked flowers to bring home. She should be here now.
“Yes, we pick those flowers because they are the prettiest ...” my voice was low and full of sadness as I spoke which he quickly noticed, his smile fading. “So why wouldn't death do the same?” my eyes rose to meet his once more and I frowned, “Your mother was beautiful, she was the prettiest flower I'd ever seen and I suppose that is why she was picked so soon.”
“B-but ...” his little hands curled and uncurled as he tried to find the words he was searching for. “You won't leave me, will you?” his eyes were full of fear as he crawled closser to me, trying to make sure I wasn't going anywhere.
“No, I won't leave you.” I replied quickly as I picked him up and hugged him close, “I swear, I will always protect you.”