Wild Flowers

Eight months ago, Daisy' s parents died in a car accident. After an age of social workers, her godmother (Jenny) arrives out of the blue on on her foster mum' s doorstep, turning her life upside down and whisking her away for a life of love, laughter, and wild flowers.

0Likes
0Comments
425Views
AA

1. Black Ice

 

  I awoke to the sound of silence. It was Christmas, and i was staying at my friend, Claire's house while mum and dad went to a party with some work colleagues. I'd just had a terrible dream about a taxi on black ice- they were in it. Suddenly, and with a loud ringing, the landline downstairs came to life. A groan from the landing told me it had woke the whole house, except Claire, she was sock on, and only when the floorboards began to creak outside her attic bedroom door, and footsteps clunked up the small flight of stairs, did she wake. The phone was for me, or about me at least. "You're parents had a crash on the way home. They're dead." Claire's parents gave me sympathetic looks as I felt my world crash around me. The look on her face told me claire didnt know what to say. I felt my self falling, falling, falling into darkness.  And I woke with a start. Drenched with sweat, yet shivering, I laid there. My heart was pounding in my ears and I could taste the saltiness of tears on my lips. Just a dream- more like a nightmare! I gazed around my room. It wasnt really mine. I'd been here eight months, living with my foster mum, amanda, and having regular meetings with mrs smith- the scary social worker.  I missed my old life. My old house, my old parents, my old friends, even my old school. But eight months had passed, I would never get them back. I drifted back into the world of nightmares, only to be woken in what seemed to be a matter of minutes by amanda. I'd overslept. It was half eleven and I'd missed my last day at school. She didn't seem to pleased, but I, on the other hand, was overjoyed.    

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...