Jada's Journal

10/14/18: Deep Dark (Writing Practice)

The desperate mother shouted and shouted, only to be met with the depth of the cave's walls, the haunting sound of drip drop drip drop with such a high intensity of reverb that it could pop your ear drums.
"Daughter... daughter... where are you, my love? Please show yourself! I need you, my daughter! Where could you be? Are you hiding from me? Stop this tom foolery... I'm scared for you, hopelessly frightened, please come back to the one and only, your mother, the one who birthed thee!" The desperate mother called out into the pitch black darkness.
"Mother... I'm gone. You have to let me go. The accident wasn't your fault, mother. Yet, I will always be with you. Always... forever... with you. But, yet, I am still scared of going there. Please..." The sound of her first child's voice faded out, as if it was being absorbed by the cave's lack of light. "Don't leave me." Was the last thing the poor mother heard before she opened her eyes and saw a neatly decorated coffin being lowered into the ground below. She fell to her knees, begging "please... don't go." But it was much too late, and even though her child told her it wasn't, she knew deep down it was, indeed, all her fault.