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LyraLynne

United States

Was born in a small US town and has always loved reading and writing. Was inspired by JK Rowling to start writing. Was diagnosed with cancer in 2012 and went through chemotherapy in 2015. All is good now. Loves fall and winter and their holidays.

Message from Writer

I follow everyone, no matter what. If you show up on my dashboard or in my notifications, I'll follow you and check out your profile if I haven't already. :)

Quotes to remember:
“The sky’s only the limit if you don’t believe you can make it to the stars.” -Me

"Everyone is an independent snowflake so get over it." -Me

"Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny." -C.S. Lewis

My writing blog is lyralynnewriting.weebly.com if you want to go check that out. :)

A big Christian Mix-Up—Writing Prompts Day 5

January 30, 2018

FREE WRITING

2
Write a dramatic scene that takes place in a church.

    Amalia sniffed and wiped at the tears that started falling down her face as she tried not to stare at the box on the altar. It was all she got. All she had left was that box and a flag. He took all of his belongings across the sea with him. She softly rested her hand on the empty coffin and closed her eyes, trying to recall old memories, but none rose to the surface. The priest waved for everyone to be seated, and she wiped her eyes in order to find her way to her seat.
    "I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to remember the life of a hero. Peter Nowak was a beloved son, friend, brother," he looked at Amalia at that last word before continuing, "and he will be sorely missed until such time as we join him in paradise. I now invite up his twin sister, Amalia to tell us a little bit about Peter." Lip quivering, Amalia stood up, forcing down tears. 
    "My brother Peter was a happy child. Always smiling, and laughing. He was very easy to get along with, so he was very popular all throughout our childhood. I remember the day he told me that he wanted to join the army like it was yesterday." Amalia paused, unable to continue. Tears now freely streaming down her face, she whispered, "He said, 'Mals, I love this country. I want to do something good. I want to protect this country because you're in it.'" Sobs caused her to shake and place her hand over her mouth. "The last thing I ever said to him was that he had to remember to write. He didn't even get to send one letter. I can still hear his voice in the back of my head, saying,
    "I love you Mals..."
    "I love you Mals..."
    Amalia looked up in alarm as a man in a plain white t-shirt and jeans walked in, holding, over his arm, a tattered leather jacket that Amalia gave Peter on their 18th birthday. The room was suspended in shock. The man was the spitting image of Peter. His eyes too were full to the brim with tears.
   As he stood in the doorway, Amalia stared at him in disbelief. She walked almost subconsciously over to him. He was the exact height that he was when he left her. Putting her hand up to his cheek, she gazed into his blue eyes speckled with silver, which were the exact shade as her brothers. A lump formed in her throat as she started to sob again, and hug him tight. No words could escape her mouth, but the gesture was enough. Soon everyone was swarming around, marveling at the supposedly dead soldier. It was some time before he could form enough words to explain himself.
    "I was on a patrol with a couple men from my unit when we were attacked. None of us died, but my best friend was shot in the shoulder. They captured us to use as ransom and transported us to a P.O.W. camp. However, we were soon forgotten.It took several weeks before we could execute an escape, but even then only two of us made it. After that though, we had to travel through enemy territory to make it back to the others. It took about two weeks of us eating whatever we could find while drinking rainwater and from small streams along the way before we found an army camp. By then, we'd already been marked as missing in action.
    "Even after that, I had to recover in a hospital in D.C. before they could send me home. I thought they already told you I was okay. Apparently not, because none of you were home, and I had to ask someone. When they told me you were here, I was shocked. So, I guess I crashed my own funeral, right?" Everyone gave an ecstatic, nervous laugh. Amalia looked up at her brother with joy and pride, and vowed never to let anything separate them again.
    "I hope you know that I won't let you out of my sight until we're at least 50, right?" She said.
    Peter laughed, "Okay, Mals."
    "No, I'm serious."
    "If you say so."
I love soldier stories so much. That was my inspiration. Just stories of soldiers coming home.

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