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I'm a female writer who's been planning to be a professional author since I was five. I hope my writing can entertain others, and maybe make them think. Other hobbies include singing, acting, and reading.

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Thorns #cliffhangerqueencontest

December 30, 2018

    When I was 10, my mom left me. As I was getting ready for bed that night, I heard shouts from downstairs. The next thing I knew my mom had come into my room, suitcase in hand. Kissing me on the cheek, she told me to remember her and walked downstairs and out the door. My dad and I haven't heard from her or seen her since. So imagine my surprise when on the night of my 18th birthday, I opened the door to see my mother standing on our doorstep, dripping with blood.
    I slammed the door quickly, shocked. I turned back around and peeked out the window at the woman on our porch. Her auburn hair whipped around her face in the cold winter air and was covered in snow. The blood was barely noticeable in her crimson locks. I almost pitied her, she looked so pathetic. Remembering what she had done to my family snapped me out of that mindset however. The fact that she was coated in blood wasn’t exactly comforting either.
    “Sweetheart?” My dad called from the kitchen. “Who’s at the door? It’s not another door to door salesman, is it?”
    “Dad, I think you need to come here,” I said, still peering outside. “You won’t believe me otherwise.”
    My dad walked over, suspiciously opening the door. I tried to slam it shut, attempting to warn my dad before he saw who was outside, but it was too late. His mouth fell open as he saw his wife who had abandoned him and his 10-year-old daughter eight years ago.
    “Diane?” He inquired. “What are you doing here and, oh my gosh, is that blood?” His voice raised, the shock now mixing with horror. “Why are you coated in blood? Whose blood is that? What have you done, Diane?”
    “I-I don’t know,” my mom said, her voice hoarse and broken. She slowly started to fall forward, and I reached out to grab her, but my dad hip checked me away, grabbing her himself.
    “Don’t touch her!” He warned. “We don’t know where she’s been.” He pulled her into the house and placed her down on the stone tile in our entryway.  
    “Mom, do you remember anything that happened?” I asked, kneeling down beside her. She shook her head with a moan, her hand shooting up to her forehead in pain.
    “Listen Diane, if you remember anything, you have to tell us, okay?” My dad said urgently. “Is that your blood?”   
    “No,” she croaked. “No, it’s not mine. I just remember.” She started rocking back and forth slightly. “I remember a bottle of wine.”
    “Likely more than one,” my dad whispered in my ear, waving for her to continue.
    “I was upset about… something,” she continued in her raspy whisper. “Something to do with you, Meghan.” She looked up at me, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Today’s your birthday, isn’t it? Happy birthday to you…” Her singing trailed off as she started humming the tune under her breath.
    My dad and I backed away towards the living room, exchanging nervous glances. “What should we do with her?” I asked.
    “We should call 911! Or the police!” At my stricken look, my dad turned to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve missed her too, Meghan. But we can’t just welcome her back into our lives, especially right now! Not only is she drunk and covered in blood, but you’re going off to college next fall! We can’t risk your future on some deadbeat who decided that now is the time to drop back into your life. We’ll just contact the proper authori-”
    “No!” Mom rushed into the room, shouting frantically. Dad and I both screamed, startled. “Please Meghan, you can’t let him do that! They can’t know about me! It will ruin my mission!” With that, she fell backwards in a dead faint. I fell to my knees, checking for a pulse that was mercifully still there.
    “I don’t care if she doesn’t want us to, I’m calling 911.” My dad walked to the kitchen, punching the numbers into the phone. I stared at my mother’s face, jumping back as her eyes popped open. She looked around wildly and, seeing that dad wasn’t there, sat up.
    “Listen. Meghan. I’m sorry for leaving, but you need to listen to me, okay sweetheart? Listen, in my left pocket. There’s a paper in my left pocket. There’s an address on it. Visit the address, okay? Tell them Rose sent you. The password is thorns. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” I nodded, completely bewildered.
    “I can, but who’s Rose? Your name’s Diane. And thorns? What does any of this mean, mom? What’s going on?”
    Suddenly, sirens sounded outside, and my mom pulled me into a hug. “I’m not able to answer that, sweetheart. Please, just take the paper. Hopefully they’ll be able to explain it to you. I’m sorry, I really am. For everything.”
    Thirty minutes later, my dad had left me to sit on the porch alone. The ambulance had taken off with my mom almost immediately, police cars trailing behind.
    I played with the slip of paper in my hand, contemplating what to do next. I realized there was really only one option for me. The option for 18-year-olds who went through their teenage years, their most vulnerable and possibly life changing years, without a mother. A mother who showed up on their porch, drenched in blood, begging them to follow only a scrap of paper. A mother who, before the age of 10, they had only fond memories of. A mom I had longed after for eight years, even after what she had done to dad and I.
    I shot a quick message to my dad, summarizing what I was about to do, ending with ‘I love you. Please don’t follow me.’ Then I blocked his number and walked off on a quest, heading towards a future that was bound to be ridden with thorns.


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  • Quille

    Winners announced! :)
    Thank you for entering :DD

    5 months ago
  • muppet

    Interested to see more...

    7 months ago
  • Quille

    Awesome!! :DD

    7 months ago