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Short stories: Dark stories

by Sherry Bentley-Short

Created on: July 30, 2008

Waves Wash Over Me

When I was small, we would go to the beach. I remember the times that we had and the things that made us all happy. The thing that made me happiest of all was when the waves would wash over me

When I was a teen we would still go to beach, we didn't hang around as much as a family any more and there were boys, so many boys, and one boy in particular was there, this summer we felt the waves wash over us.

When I'm Seventeen it seems odd thinking that this will be my last year going to the beach with my family. Next year I will be be someplace with friends, I'm going off to college and so this year will be end of family vacations as we know it. Feeling kind of sad I lay down into the waves and allow them to wash over me. I'm feeling better when I see him and that summer to we found that the waves washed over us.

When I'm 19 I arrive at school, it is a big year for me and everything seems so new, that's when I see him, so we talked and remembered the times that the waves had washed over us. That night I drove out to the beach alone, the beach house locked down for the season but the water was there and as I remembered him and the feelings that we had the waves washed over me.

When I'm 22 it's only a few months from graduation, this is a whole new beginning for me, the wedding will be in a few weeks and we will start our life together him and me. That's when I find out that I am pregnant, this was not the plan. Again I go to the mother of the sea as I lay in the sand feeling the waves wash over me.

When I'm 23 our baby is stillborn, Glitch in the plan again, but we must move on him and me. We dive into our careers and don't mention the baby much. The family has asked that we come out to the beach house for the summer and we agree. So as was custom when I was a child we all talked about the events of the day when, my mother tells us that my father is dying, and that summer him and me didn't feel the waves washing over us it was just me. I went to the mother of the sea with my tears and my pain and once again she allowed the waves to wash over me.

When I'm 25, I am back home again this time for a funeral and it is cold and the wind coming off the sea makes it worse it's a biting cold and still the chill does not kill the pain. Less than a day from the time that we had buried my father. We found my mother as she appeared to be sleeping only with way to many pill bottles laying around her and then we buried her next to dad. It was a horrible ending to a

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