Epilogue Of A Short Story

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Epilogue [Alice] I’ve never been a huge fan of having friends growing up. I don’t know why. It was just never something that I found intriguing. The only friend I ever had was my aunt. Yes, that sounds very pitiful, but I was never sad. My aunt is someone I aspire to be like. My mom was never very happy with my decision, because unlike me, my mother grew up as a very social and likable person. She always tried to push me to do plays, sports, or chorus. Anything to get me to make friends she would say, but the only activity I ever enjoyed was playing chess with my aunt. Growing up I always felt like I was in the shadow of my mother. I understand that you might not understand that if you have a sister or your mother puts you before herself. …show more content…

The sun was starting to set below the horizon giving everything that distant shadowy look. I stared straight ahead instead of making any move to get out of the car. From another person’s point of view I probably looked very strange. A woman girl sitting behind the wheel of her car blinking rapidly, and staring at absolutely nothing. Minutes passed but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car. How could I? When I open the door, and go inside it makes everything real. Mom will really be gone, dad will really hate me, and I’ll be faced with the same fact over and over again. I am utterly …show more content…

At first, I was slightly disappointed to find out that my mother’s diary took place in a time frame from years ago, instead of being from before she died. Even though I was almost sure I wouldn’t find anything that would mean anything to me, I still read it to feel closer to her. I was sure now that Deere was penciled in because my mom was yet to be married to Dad when she wrote this. I was surprised to find out that my mother took place in something called ‘The Westing Game.’ I was equally shocked to figure out Aunt T.R had also been apart of the game, but it took me quite some time to figure it out because she was being referred to as Turtle. I was only halfway through when daylight shined through my window. I read furiously turning the pages rapidly nearly ripping several. The pages felt coarse and old in my hands, reminding me again just how long my mother had been gone. How long had it been since someone touched this book? It was nearing noon when I got to the part that made me feel so dizzy and disgusted I nearly dropped the book. My mother was a