Where Flowers Never Grow

Hello; Hola; Merhaba; Salute;

This my the newest novel that i'm working on. I was inspired by the book;

Right Behind You by: Gail Glies. i luv tht book very very much. can't count the number of times i've read it. its inspired me to write a whole lot of stories tht are...at the moment...unfinished. But, i hope i finish this one!! So, this is the first chapter. Me luved writing it, n i hope u enjoy reading it. if not...the things i'll do when i'm behind you.....

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9 year old McFlan on side.........................>

　

My mother has always been there for me. When I was sick. When I was depressed. When I was suicidal. When I was bulemic....etc. She's always been there. ALWAYS. Up until the day....that I killed her.

What I Remember

''Mick. Mick honey! Come on in and get washed up! Dinner is almost ready,'' mother called from inside the house. I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. I wasn't ready to come in. I was playing with my new toy that grandpa had bought me for my bithday. I'd only gotten the present this morning! I sat out in the yard. Thinking on rather I should obey....or keep playing. Mother came back out onto the porch. She saw me, sitting in the grass, waist deep in thought.

''Mick,'' she called again. ''come on honey.''

I didn't move. I didn't have the guts to tell her no. I've never told her no. But, I didn't want to stop playing either. All I remember after that is her coming out to get me....and me pushing her. Pushing her down the three flights of concrete stairs that led up to our home.

　

What They Say Happened

McFlan Corse.....You killed your mother.

What Happened

It was a chilly autumn day. The sun was settling on down into the night. Brushing threw the sky like an angel. The clouds moving fast across the sky. The naked trees taking in the wind, letting it blow them which ever which way. Families had pumpkins on the porches and ghosts on their windows. Witches in their tree's and skeleton's in their yard. Nothing much to live for. The cars zooming by...fast. FAST. Fast on the highway up the street from my home. I sat in the grass and closed my eyes. Sniffed the air to gather some of the insense from the passing wind. Much, much to live for. I rubbed my fingers gently threw the grass. Letting its tips of ice pinch me. A pinch of love. I looked down at my toes. My mother had painted them pink. I loved the look of the pink color next to the orange leave. It looked as if it should be in a magazine for toe colors. Oh silly me! Always thinking of something that no one else would.

I'm the unique one. Well.....thats at least how my teacher put it. When Mya Rice and Keeta Marks teased and bullied me....they said things that shouldn't be repeated. But, my mother was there to comfort me. To hold me in her arms and sing to me. Sing songs that were embeded in my heart. I knew the words without having to even think. But, I never sung the words. Things always sounded better echoing off of my mothers lips. I'm the unique one. I repeated to myself. I'm the unique one? I repeated once again...but this time, with a question mark. I reached over and grabbed my new toy. I clutched it to my chest and squeezed. Grandpa got it for me. This morning, actually. For my birthday. It was perfect. It was the newest one out. And most and best of all...., it was mine.