This is part 2 out of 3 of Lie 10! Then the epilogue!Thank you guys so much! Almost at 200!
3 hours ago
It was raining. Cliche. I know. So, my mom and I stood out in the middle of the newly cut lawn, under a large Snoopy umbrella. Edward loved Snoopy. There was a priest, who stood adjacent to the grave. My father couldn't leave the base, at least not anytime soon.
I kept looking around, tensely, expecting Emmarie to come from the shadows. I needed an Emmarie hug.
I wanted to smell her shampoo-it smelled much like Edward's. I wanted to braid her hair like we did when we were 13.
I wanted to be with her.
And Edward.
And my father.
I wanted everyone to be together. I wanted us not to be standing under the childish umbrella in black satin dresses.
I never felt so alone.
The funeral was coming to a close, the priest's face annoyed and tired. Marcus was there, but Hayden never showed. A few other Aunts and Uncles stood behind us, but they shed no tears.
My family sent my little brother to stay at my Grandma's house, for they didn't want him here.
Edward must have met thousands of people in his life, but only 10 were here.
My mom had bags under her puffy eyes, but refused to cry in front of people.
The roses I held in my hand still had thorns, but I gripped them tight. The smell was intoxicatingly sweet. Familiar. It smelled like happiness.
The rose was a dark blue, a rose that is rare, but grows near us.
Up in the north hills is a bright place that is full of the most beautiful, exotic colored flowers.
Emmarie's favorite was the pale pink, as mine was the mint green.
Roses.
That could be where she went. When in a bad mood, her, and I (occasionally with Edward) we would go up and watch the sunset as the lights of the valley flickered to life, as people went to sleep.
No, we'd stay awake. We'd lie on our backs, making up our own constellations. Our own stories about Jared the Giraffe and the invincible three horned unicorn that lived just past the Big Dipper.
While being dark, you could still smell the roses. The flowers would provide a remedy of relief, they're sense triggering lifeliness.
We never picked the flowers. No, never. The only memory we have of those nights where images. It was to dark to photography, at least at night. The roses from today came from someone who dared to harm the garden.
Not us. We would never hurt a place that meant so much to us. We would lean over and cradle the roses as the dew drops fell into our palms.
I needed to go.
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Laced Lies
Short Story#824 in S.S I, Victoria Adams, almost never lie. In fact I've only told 10 lies in my life. But it was those 10 lies that ended it all: 1. My dog ate my homework 2. I don't have a crush on Elliot Ways ...
