Silvery flakes fall from the sky, landing on the ground leaving a blanket of white where people leave their footprints. I sit in the living room, holding my mom's hand and starring at the television; staring at the remainig tower where my father was on a business trip. I couldn't bare just sitting and mindlessly waiting for my father to die or for my father to step out of the building, unharmed, so I put on my jacket and step outside onto the porch. I stare up at the sky as the snow came to a slow stop. I think about my father and what might be going on in his mind. Is he scared?; confused?; trying to figure a way out? Probably all of them. I think about my mother; sobbing inside the house. I think of all the families all over America, not just in Colorado, weeping at the televisions for their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. I think of whether I'll ever hug my father again.
My mother bursts through the door, still in her nightgown, with a fresh set of tears and sobs starting, pulling me away from my thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Pulled From My Thoughts
Historical FictionThis story is a short chaptered story that allows the reader to step into the perspective of kids in Colorado from different times. Hope you enjoy!
