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Okay, this is a story I wrote for English, which is kind of sequel to my short story Mortality. It may be a little confusing, as in my assignment I could do different fonts, which I couldn't do here.
Mortality- latter
Lucy,
I still can’t believe you’re really gone…even though the funeral was today. The whole time I was standing there, listening to speeches, having people I don’t even know come over to me, telling me how sorry they are, that they feel my pain! No they don’t, they don’t feel my pain, they have no idea how I feel. I don’t even know how I feel. I saw Charlie and the other boys at the funeral. The look on his face, he looked completely crushed. I know I should hate him, no one would ever think any less of me if I did…and yet I can’t. I didn’t speak to him, I just saw him there. I can’t hate him because I know he will have to live with this the rest of his life. He’ll get enough judgement from his conscious.
By CARLY SIMONS
What started out as harmless fun ended fatal, as a drink-driving accident resulted in the death of 12-year-old Lucy Sutton. She was driving with her two parents when another car came speeding around the corner and hit them front on. The other car consisted of 4 teenage boys all of whom had been drinking, including the driver. The boys all survived the accident but
Continued page 3
When you’re not here
How can I go on breathing?
When you no longer breathe
How can I forget you?
When we’d never even spoken
How can I enjoy my life?
When I’ve taken yours away?
How can I forgive myself?
When you’re not here to forgive me first.
By Charlie Brennon
I hate this poem. It’s my pathetic way of trying to show my feelings, yet the right words will never come. I hate talking about my feelings even more though. Everyone wants me to talk about it, but I can’t stand to. I killed a girl. What’s there to talk about?
Police break up wild party
By TAYLOR WILLIAMS
An out of control party was broken up around 2am Saturday night by the local police after a neighbour complained. “The music was too loud and there was some underage drinking and drug use, but compared to the usual parties we’re called to break up it was pretty tame” police officer, Tim Johnston reported.
‘Hi Charlie, it’s Sam. I’ve left like three other messages in the past week and you haven’t replied to any of them. You okay, man? Okay, well…give me a call will ya?’
Phone Message Two‘Charlie, it’s Sam again…it’s been like a day since my last message, and you still haven’t gotten back to me. What’s going on man? I know you’re home, so please pick up…okay, be that way.’
Phone Message Three‘Hey Seb, it’s Sam, have you spoken to Charlie lately? He isn’t returning my calls…I’m really worried about him man…he hasn’t been the same since, you know…well if you do talk to him tell him I called, okay?
Phone Message Four‘Charlie, it’s Seb, I guess you’re not home…Sam called me; he’s really worried about you…you should call him man…okay, well, peace out.
Phone Message Five‘For the love of God Charlie, please, please, please return my calls…I’ve left like half a dozen. Anyway, unless you call me back I’m coming round today, okay?
I don’t know why I’m writing this down, I guess writing’s easier then talking. Talking is stupid…
I hate my handwriting. But then, I hate writing in general… probably why I failed English. I’ve always found music to be a better way of expressing emotions…everyone will listen to music, and half the time people don’t even hear the words…half the time they don’t need to…
Lately I’ve been listening to depressive stuff, goes with my mood. There was this one song, can’t even remember it really, I just remember one line “Why'd you have to kill to feel alive?” describes how I feel. We were drunk that night; we were drunk, in a car. Thought it was all just harmless fun, until someone died…
Can’t get rid of the guilt, and I wasn’t even driving. Imagine how Charlie feels. Wasn’t just his fault though, we all thought we were untouchable. That something like this could never happen to us.
I went to school for the first time since the accident today. I saw Charlie there; he couldn’t even look at me. He kind of looked up; saw me there and quickly looked down again. I saw guilt wash all over his face as this happened. I wanted to say something, to let him know I didn’t blame him, give him some kind of feeling of forgiveness...but I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breath…my throat just closed up and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears. I felt so bad later, that I couldn’t speak to him. I heard that he isn’t talking to anyone anymore, not even the others that were in the accident. That only made me feel worse. I should have said something…anything. Yet I didn’t…and I probably never will.
