Gone
It happened.
She was alone, left behind. They really were underneath the debris.
Gone.
Her bicycle clattered onto the cement, but she couldn’t remember letting go. Emerald eyes sought through the rubble left in the small crater, looking for any sign of movement. There was none.
“Excuse me, miss?” a voice asked.
The girl turned to find a police officer standing behind her. She swallowed.
“Yes, sir?” she said, her voice barely a croak.
“Is this your house?” the man indicated the pile of rubble.
“Yes,” the girl said quietly. “And the one next door.”
“Was anyone in the house?”
The girl mumbled something.
“Miss?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “My parents.”
“And where were you?” the man asked.
“On a bike ride.” The girl pointed to the bike on the floor.
“And your name is?”
“Alison,” the girl said.
“Come with me, Alison.”
Reluctantly, she obeyed, climbing into the back seat of the police car.
She’d known it had to happen sooner or later. There’d been too many bombings in the area. Her family was going to move in with her aunt in England tomorrow. But now she was going alone. For good.
She realized she wasn’t sorry about it and immediately felt ashamed. Why didn’t she care that her family had just died? Maybe it would sink in later, she decided, but she couldnt help thinking about it. Her parents were gone, and she didn’t care anymore. The truth was, she didn’t care about anything anymore. She hadn’t for a long time, not since the war started. With a sigh, she sank back against the seat and waited for the policeman to pull into the station.
September 8th, 2006 at 9:06 am
Your descriptive moments in the last paragraph are wonderfully illuminating. I really feel like I got to know this character in this piece of flash fiction. It makes me want to know more, though. You are leaving me hanging with the notion that a daughter doesn’t care about her parents’ death because of a war. What is this war about, and why has it affected her so drastically? The other thing that I noticed (and enjoyed) was the fact that your narrator seems to have a distance from Alison. The narrator seems to be both inside of her head and not be able to penetrate her walled-off self. How do you think you were able to capture that?
September 8th, 2006 at 11:33 am
I like how you wrote a paragraph on something that could really happen. I am also wondering how this girl isn’t sad about her parents just dying. I also like how this is written and how it could happen to anyone.
September 8th, 2006 at 12:10 pm
Wow! That was like a book! I mean, it sounded like it was written by a real author. It was really good. I like how it was really long, but really short at the same time. I also liked how it was like she was really sad, and then all of a sudden it says that she’s not sad. It was great!!!!!
p.s. I liked how it was different than all of the rest of the stories, and she wasn’t sad about her parents. Everyone else would have made her cry, and stuff like that. Good job!!!
September 8th, 2006 at 12:11 pm
Wow. That could physically happen, especially if the world keeps going more toward violence than peace. The things I am wondering are; When is this set?, Where is it set?, How long has this war been going on?, and why doesn’t she care? Really purposeful writing, depending on what else II see I might nominate it. Look at my blog it kind of corresponds to yours in a way.
September 8th, 2006 at 12:14 pm
Wow that’s sad….
no I mean 
yeah…. Well anyway. I think your story is very heartwarming and very very sad. Why the day before london? Well I think your story deserves a nomination.
September 8th, 2006 at 1:04 pm
I think that you’re story is good and a very intense topic. I like the detail!
September 9th, 2006 at 4:51 pm
It makes me feel sad, as if i was there. you should keep going with the story it’s amazing.