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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It was St. Patrick’s Day 2011, and all wasn’t full of happy-go-lucky four-leaf clovers. No, it wasn’t going to be a very cheerful day after all. She had been missing since New Year’s Eve. That night of terror still rips apart my chest when I remember the way my phone laid in my hand not ringing. I anticipated her phone call, yet deep inside I knew I would never hear from her again. I knew that day felt different. Maybe it was the way the snow was finally melting along the shore of the reverie that rested outside my sill. Maybe it was the changing of seasons that March always brought that time of year. I was invited out to go celebrate a day full of green everything, but I just wasn’t in the mood for fun anymore. I had changed since she left and no one understood why…except me. So I did what I did best and laid on the bed we used to laugh on. I read old letters she wrote me and wrote in a journal I had been keeping for the last three months. It was full of melancholic and sappy goodbyes, remorseful regrets and yesterday’s sorrows. Little did I know that night would be the night that would change my life forever. I heard the doorbell downstairs ring and my heart raced. It was like I already knew who it was and what he wanted. Too scared to move I just sat there listening to the ring….ring…ring… I looked at the clock on the old dresser and saw it was 11:02 pm For that would be the time I’d always remember. Each step downstairs I took slower than the last knowing what I was about to hear. I saw his silhouette on the front porch and could see his apprehension. As I opened the door all it took was one look upon his face. It was the detective. The man who was in charge of searching day after day and night after night for my sister. She was finally found lifeless under an old Colorado Spruce Pine tree in front of a fountain. Time stopped, so did my beating heart. For my life would never be the same again. Sometimes when I look at the time and it happens to be nine seventeen pm, I cry. Chills run up my arms and through my veins like that fountain she was lying under when she took her final breath. nineseventeenPM Contest John Lawless July 7, 2018
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