Silvery flakes drift down from the sad sky and leave a cold atmosphere for the people gathered at the center of my neighborhood. My dad and I stand with a few others at a small memorial my neighborhood put together to remeber the passengers on the Malaysia Airlines flight 370. I look to my father and realize I had never seen him cry before today. I hold my tears in as I feel I may need them later. I stare up to the sky as the snow comes to a stop. I think about my mother, one of the three American passengers on the missing flight; is she alive?; if she is, where could she be?; is the plane in the ocean or did it end up on a piece of land?; will I ever see my mother again?
"Come on, it's getting really late and you have school tomorrow." my father quietly tells me through tears, pulling me from my thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Pulled From My Thoughts
Historical FictionThis story is a short chaptered story that allows the reader to step into the perspective of kids in Colorado from different times. Hope you enjoy!
