Dear Dad, Mum's Gone.

This story is for the History Competition.
Hope you enjoy!

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6. The Aftermath - Part 1

My fingers trailed along the banister of the crushed staircase. I could hear Ralph's urgent voice as he called out, for somebody, anybody. Robert was curled up by the smashed front door, tears falling silently down his pale-pink cheeks. My fingers bumped, and finally, the road they travelled, ended. My eyes found a surface, but my fingers found something different. A ripped scarf. I bent down, and picked it up, and twizzled it in my fingers. Sirens, oh those sirens, ended with one final wail. Then, the crackling of flames, as the roof burned. We should have left. We should have escaped from the house, ran down the street, head somewhere without the noise and bustle. But we didn't. We stayed in the house, and watched it burn and collapse, right above and around us.

 

Then...came the body. It was wrapped around the carpet. Hair, beautiful, brown hair, tangled and ruined around the perfectly pale face of a woman. A scream escaped my throat, and I felt my knees buckle, and I fell to the floor. Robert's footsteps sounded behind me, but my heart pounded so loud I couldn't have been sure if it was Robert at all.

I let my hands fall, I let my head drop. Mother. Our mother, there, in the carpet, dead. The more I thought about it, the more the tears fell. The more my heart ached, and the more I wished it was all a dream.

"Nancy...is that, is that mum?"

It was Robert. He fell to my side, and dug his fingernails into my arms, but I didn't care. He could have put me through the pain mother must have gone through, but it still wouldn't be enough. Ralph traipsed into the room, and I heard him gasp. Then came the sobs from hell. He screamed, and thrashed about, as if he were having some sort of fit.

"Nan-Nancy, what, what do we d-do?"

I didn't have an answer. But I knew that if I did, it still wouldn't fix the fact that mom was dead. I checked her pulse, if anything, double checked it to see if there were still that one chance that she might lift her head in a daze, and ask what was going on. But, my fingers couldn't get anything. Her skin was cool despite the flames burning fiercely around us. What were we to do?

 

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