All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Just a Fairtale
Sometimes I like to think my mother could be that woman walking her dog, or the one at the park with her kids, maybe even the woman on T.V. I know the truth though, my mother is not any of these women. I use the idea of her being one of these people to hide the real fact, the fact that she is dead. It is just a dream, a fairy tale I guess.
My mother was sixteen, my current age, when she became pregnant with me. My conception was not a welcomed or wished one; it was the kind of news that brings people to tears, the kind that leaves people in shock, in mourning. My biological father just recently got out on parole, for what he did to my mother sixteen years ago. She was sixteen and beautiful, captain of the cheer squad, homecoming queen, top of her class, you name it she was the best at it, that was my mother.
On November 11,1990 my mother was leaving a Veteran’s Day Fundraiser, a program that her and other class leaders put together to help raise money for the military, and honor veterans. She said goodbye to her friends and shook hands with the veterans, before heading out to the dark parking lot. As she walks the only noise is the echo of her heels clicking the asphalt. When reaching her car she fumbles the keys in her hand trying to find the right one, when she feels the warm breath on her neck. She tries to scream but is silenced when a strong large hand fiercely covers her mouth. She then feels the barrel digging into her lower back, she can feel her heart pounding, pulsing all throughout her, she is overcome by fear, her body begins to go numb, not knowing what the next minute or second could bring. The man then puts his mouth close to her ear, close enough to smell the rank of his breath. He then whispers in her ear, “I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time, ever since grade school Kate.” The voice she noticed was not that of a grown man, maybe that of someone her own age, it was a familiar voice, one she knows she has herd many times before. “Come with me” he says then digging the gun deeper into her back, “or else”. With complete obedience Kate goes with him. He leads her to a white van at the end of the parking lot; he opens the back door and forces her to get in then followed by him.
That experience changed my mother forever; it robbed her of everything that she held dear to her. It took away the one thing that was hers and only hers, the most special gift anyone could give, something she could only give once, her innocence. She was eventually found unconscious in a ditch next to the parking lot by the Janitor of the V.F.W who had just gotten done cleaning up after the fundraiser. After contacting the authorities it turned out, my father had already turned himself in. A few weeks later after the report was made, my mother had to take a mandatory pregnancy test. Of course it was positive.
My mother had to drop out of school, and get her G.E.D. As much as she tried to make ends meet, she had no chance of supporting me when I came; her only option was to put me up for adoption. My mother was folding all the clothes she had bought me through out the pregnancy, when she felt a horrible pain course trough her abdomen. She yelled for her mother and the two rushed to the hospital. They had made it in enough time to save me, but not enough to save her.
I guess I have always wished things could be different. I wish that my conception could have been happy, and not a disgrace. I wish my mom could have achieved her dream of being a doctor, and fighting against diseases through her charity work. I wish she could have lived out the life she worked so hard for. It’s my fault she isn’t here; I guess that’s why I like to think these people are who she really is, even though it’s just a dream, just a fairytale.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.