Wait For Me

• Andie Sharman, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2019

My closed eyes are glistening wet, I blink them open, slowly. I grunt and grimace as I feel a searing pain explode in my side. My muscles collapse, I feel faint. Nothing can save me, it’s too late. I need a miracle now. I lay, deathly still, in my own blood pooling around me. This was the hard end, this is it, this is my last breath. Then a memory came back to me. A memory so soft that it was like the calm breeze tickling my skin. I let the memory replay in my head.
It’s autumn, six years ago, and my family and I are going for a relaxing walk in the early morning. We walk solemnly, talking about the future and what we wanted to become. I trip and fall, knocking my head on a tree. I begin to cry as my mother bends down and scoops me into her loving arms, my father kisses my forehead. “Hush, little one, we are always here for you. We won’t let any harm come to you. You are our little flower.” I smile, painfully, it was my last memory of them, and I valued it with every living part of me. I sigh ad mutter under my breath,
“It doesn’t look like you’re here now…” I twist my head up, straining my neck, pain races up my spine. It’s excruciating, but I look up… and smile. I let out my last breath, my last shimmer of life. I feel my body seize up and my eyes mist over. Then, I crumple to the floor in my ocean of blood and tears.
“Wait for me on the other side.”