The Mall
Kristine Millard, age 16
Contest Winner
I stepped out of the mall into the crisp sunshine. With my hand pressed against my forehead I shielded my eyes while they adjusted to the brightness of the Saturday afternoon. I scanned the parking lot, looking for my fathers BMW. I searched for a few minutes, but became dissatisfied with the results and returned to the mall to continue my shopping.
Ron Arnold relaxed in the seat of his BMW, removing the tie from his neck. He was on his way to pick up his daughter Casey. He was stressed with his job, and the wrinkles on his face showed it. He needed a break, time to relax and forget about his work, time to catch up on missed sleep. His eyes were heavy, and stung from the stale air in the car. Blinking, Ron slowed down, not aware of his speed, not aware of the road. He fell into a daze, maybe even a light sleep. Ron's hands released the stirring wheel and his head dropped to rest on his shoulder. A horn squealed, awakening Ron. The sound penetrated through his spine like lightening. His head shot up to see his car about to drive off the over pass. Ron's foot automatically hit the break peddle, and his hands griped the stirring wheel. But, he was too late. The vehicle crashed through the metal guard rails, and plunged toward the highway below. His head whipped forward into the stirring wheel, knocking him out before his death. The impact of his car smashing onto the concrete was the final blow. His car was totalled, but worst of all, so was his life.
I was becoming frustrated with the absence of my father. He was now almost a hour late, and late was not something my father could tolerate. He was the most punctual person I knew, and always had been. I had a horrible feeling in the bottom of my stomach, something was wrong. To say the least, that something was eating away at every nerve left in my worried body. Images flashed through my mind like a horror movie I couldn't turn off-no matter how hard I tried. I could see him so vividly in my head, sick in a hospital, or held-up at gun point at the bank. Looking upon death, his life before his eyes, and depending on the decision of a ex-convict with a stolen gun. A ex-convict who at anytime could decide my father deserved to die, or was over worthy of life. Who, in his own fear, could kill my father, thinking that my fathers death would bring him joy-joy in knowing he was not the only who suffered the pain of his life.
Thinking of my father, terrified, and hurt brought tears to my eyes, and hatred to my heart. I grew hate for the ex-convict I imagined, and hate for anyone else who could hurt my father. Anyone who by hurting him-a man who I admired, trusted, and loved-would be hurting me. I selfishly feared pain in my life, and I knew that was wrong. Standing there in the parking lot, all alone, I realized how precious life was, and how love can hurt. But, love in its self, is such a great medicine, that can heal any wound. Love was why we existed, and what we needed to share. Another tear rolled down
my cheek. I feared death merely because I didn't know death. I sat down on the edge of the side walk, whipping the tears from my cheeks. Silently praying for my fathers safety. I sat there for about 10 minutes, with my eyes shut-blind to the sunlight, until a hand touched my shoulder. When I opened my eyes in shock, I saw my father sitting beside me. His skin pale, but his worry marks that scarred his face seemed to have faded. A slight smile came across his face, as he looked at my worried, tear stained cheeks.
"I'm sorry I was late, hun." His voice sounded mono-toned, but happy.
"W-w-what's wrong" I questioned, stumbling over my words with fear. Was my father really here? Was I imagining him? It was so hard to tell, but it seemed real to me. I wanted it to be real.
"There was an accident, it happened so fast, the police had me in for questioning" He paused, as if deep in thought. "The poor man, they think he fell asleep at the wheel." I hugged my father, not wanting to let go. He was really alright, he was really with me. The joy and relief bounced through my body. We walked to my fathers BMW together, in silence. We were cherishing the silence, because when all is silent, the love can be heard.
The following Monday, I returned to school, to discover the man who had died in the car accident was Casey's father. Casey, a girl who I sat with in biology class was dealing with the pain of death, and I couldn't help her. I couldn't help her, for I feared death myself. One thing I do know, is love can survive death, and Casey's father is still loving her today.
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Winners list:
Aaron Pearcey: Poem - Homework Blues
Jenna Henderson: Poem - *Nsync Style
Kelly Flower: Untitled limerick
Beth Byrd: Poem - Is It Me?
Corey: Untitled poem
Kristine Millard: Short Story - The Mall
Eve Forster: Short Story - Bustle
Mistee: Short Story - Going Home
Brooklyn Soden: Four haikus about spring
Sarah Gustin: Short Story - The Greater Gift
