Heroes Hurt Too

Heroes Hurt Too

            Do you remember the worst month of your life? The worst week? The worst day? How long ago was that week, that month, or that year? For me it was August 2^nd, 2011. Do you remember what happened on that day? Well I’m here to tell you.

            That morning, my mom, aunt, sister, and brother packed up the car and started on a five hour drive to Nebraska. My dad can’t come, because as he says: “A cop’s work is never done.” After driving for about three hours past cornfields and railroad tracks, we need a break. Everyone in the car needs to stretch their legs, and visit the bathroom. We all get out at a roadside gas station. We stock up on snacks, but then it’s time to go again.

            “I don’t feel so well,” my mom says as we get back into the car. We all assume it was from eating too many sunflower seeds. None of us knew what was going on three hours behind us.

            Finally, we arrive. We are greeted by giddy cousins and squawking chickens. I get the grand tour of the farm. We see everything from pigs to kittens, and even a blind calf! Afterwards, we jump on the trampoline. We are in Nebraska, and I’m loving every minute of it.

            “Prae?” My Aunt’s voice carries across the farmyard. I breathlessly get on my shoes and walk inside. “Your mom wants to see you; she’s in the computer room.” Aunt Jodi sounds weird, not like her usually bubbly self. Is that pity I hear in her voice? I quietly knock on the computer room door, and my mother’s face meets me, only, it isn’t her face. If you have ever seen someone you love cry, you know it’s not a pretty sight. Her eyes are all puffy and red; tears are streaming down her face.

            “There’s been a shooting in Rapid. Officer McCandless is dead and another officer is in critical condition. There’s also another who’s stable,” she says. I am shocked. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open and the world swims beneath me. My arms and legs start to get this weird tingly feeling. I pull up two chairs, because Mom looked more overwhelmed than I did.

            Questions are floating around in my head like bubbles. One would stay for a while, and then pop and another would take its place. What about Dad? Is he okay? Did I know Officer McCandless? Why don’t they tell us who else is hurt? One question escapes my fumbling lips.

            “Did you know him?” She breaks into sobs and tells me everything. Dad is fine. Officer McCandless often came up to where my mom works. She is a secretary for the RCPD. He had a fiancé and a farm. She says that she doesn’t want my siblings to see her like this, and grabs a box of tissues.

            “Has this ever happened before?” I ask tentatively.  She shakes her head.

            “Not that I can remember.” Mom blows her nose and wipes her eyes. I sit there, stunned. An officer is dead. A police officer is dead. One of Dad’s friends is… dead. It just wasn’t registering. Mom stands up.

            “You okay?” she asks. I nod, but really, I’m not okay. She hugs me hard. Then my mom takes a deep breath and walks out of the room. I come out behind her, but end up rushing to the bathroom. I sit in there for a little while, and then the tears come. For some silly reason, I don’t want anyone to know I’m crying, so I shut the door and just whimper softly.

            After that, it’s chaos. We listen to a public announcement by Chief Allender. We learn that Officer Nick Armstrong is in critical condition and Officer Tim Doyle is stable. Mom says we have to go home, and I agree, but nobody wants to leave so soon after we arrived. We agree to stay for two more days. At the end of those days, we pack up, wave goodbye, and head for home.

            My life is a blur as we go through ceremonies, processions, and funerals. It seems like my parents are gone 24/7 as we spend days at my grandma’s house. I am honored when my dad is chosen to give the address for Officer McCandless. He does a great job.

            Now that our lives have slowed down a bit, I have time to remember. Time to remember that I was five hours away when I heard the terrible news about the shooting. Time to remember both of the lives these amazing men lived. I remember, and I will never forget. Now, I have a new understanding of life. I now know that nobody is invincible. Even heroes can get hurt.

Well, how is it? As always, I would love your comments as well as criticism! Just to let you know, there is a BIG story coming soon! I'll keep you posted (literally!).
--Prae

The Waiting Room

   I stride into the waiting room, holding a little girl by the hand. The smell hits me like a slap to the face. Strong chemicals assault my nose. Their smell of cleanliness threatens to give me a migraine. Still holding the girl's hand, I walk over to the secretary. I give her our names, she gives me a three page form. My high heels clack as I walk over to the chairs. I smooth my skirt down before I sit.  The chairs  are lumpy, and overstuffed, not comfortable at all. When I think of the people who sat in these... yuck. The girl sits down next to me, her tiny legs dangling off the end of the chair. She looks up at me, her eyes watery, pleading.
     "Do I hafta get my shots?"
     My heart melts. I want to tell her no. I want to scoop her up in my arms, protecting her from this place full of needles, doctors, and germs. But I know I can't.
     "Yes honey, you have to," I say instead. She exhales loudly and launches herself into the back of the chair, arms crossed. I sigh and sit back as well. I draw in circles on the paper, waiting for the ink to run down the pen. When it finally starts to write, I begin to fill out the forms. Maiden Name, Mother's Maiden Name, Birthday, why do they need to know this about ME?
     She starts to whimper beside me. I get up to turn in the finished forms. As I sit back down, the lady across from me coughs. I grimace. More germs.
     A petite nurse comes from behind a closed door.
     "Miss Bethany? Could you follow me?" she says with a southern accent and a sweet smile. Bethany stands up. She bravely starts for the nurse, but halfway there she stops. Slowly, Bethany turns. Her little hand comes up, shaking a bit. I give her  a reassuring smile, then I stand and take her hand. Together, we walk through the doorway.

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! Comment on how you liked this short little story. Don't worry, the big ones are comming soon. Be patient!

Coming Soon!

Okay, I don't have time to upload a whole story, but I wanted to give a little update anyway. You might have seen this already, but The Ends of the Earth is now Run. I'm thinking about going through time with one series. All of the book titles will (hopefully) be verbs. Most likely, they will go through America's "important" times. You know, Revolutionary War, moving West, Civil War, Temperance Movement, WW1, WW2, all the way to the present. This is all in the planning stages though, so you are the first to know!! I updated my settings so now- even if you're not a Blogger- you can comment. Hopefully it works, but email me if not. See ya soon (hopefully next time you'll have a chapter or two to read)!

My New Blog!

Hello there! Most of you have probably come here because you saw the post on my old blog. To answer the question some of you may be asking, yes, I will still post on that blog. Praetoria's Pen is strictly for my stories, books I like, or other writings I recommend. If you come here from Wattpad, please be patient. I will be posting my old stories chapter by chapter. Well, that about sums it up! I will post one new chapter every week. The title and chapter will be up at the top where it now says: My New Blog! I will probably have multiple stories on here, so be sure to read the title! Thank you for visiting, and come again!