The Question

       A young teenage girl sits looking at her reflection in her vanity mirror. She is a very cute girl

the sweet innocent girl you would love to date kind of beauty. With her big brown almond eyes,

thin little, soft thin pouty pink lips, high cheek bones, heart shaped face with a little round chin.

  Her body is very toned, flat washboard abs, very firm C-cup breast, slightly flared hips with a

well rounded ass, with long shapely legs, from running track and doing aerobics. Her hair and

eyes are a deep chocolate brown. She has beautiful tan skin. Letting you know she

is part Native American..      

 

       She sits looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She turns her head side to

side, to get a good look in the mirror at her very short hair cut. Early this morning she

begged an old barber to give her the hair cut.  She smiles thinking how hard the barber

tried to talk her out of cutting her long hair off to a short style. The barber gave in

reluctantly but did it in a very cute pixy style.

      As she looks at her own reflection, bringing her face close to the mirror. She takes

her delicate little hand. She rubs the scar that totally follows her hair line.  She has no

recollection of how she got the scar. She has brought it up to both her parents. They

change the subject or they simply refuse to discuss it with her.

She softly bites her bottom lip as her eyes tear up. She opens the bottom drawer to

her vanity mirror. In the draw sits a Smith & Wesson 9mm automatic pistol.  She

reaches for the pistol but quickly pushes the drawer shut. The girl hears the door to her

room being opened by someone.

     She looks over her shoulder towards the door to her room. The girl sees her

mother running up towards her.  The girl’s mother yells happy birthday sweetie. The

mother embraces the young girl in a firm hug.

The girl blushes a deep red and whispers thank you mom that means a lot to me. Mrs.

Quinn notices right away the tears in her daughter’s eyes. She takes a handkerchief out

of her purse and wipes her daughter’s eyes and cheeks off. Cindy was you having those

bad dreams again? Cindy nods her head while she stares at the floor.   

 

   Cindy looks up at her mom. Mom! It’s horrible that poor man on his Harley he got hit

by a truck the blood and the sound of the crash it’s so real to me. He’s lying on the

ground all busted up bleeding. He looks up at me winks then smiles. Mom I can't

explain it. I swear know him. It’s like I can actually feel the pain he is in.        

   Cindy starts crying really hard this time. Her mother sits on the corner of Cindy's bed

and pats it.  Cindy sits by her mother. Mrs. Quinn wraps her arms around her child in a

loving embrace and rocks her gently.

   Please don't cry sweetie. There just dreams I promise you. They are nothing more

than that. Tomorrow is your birthday you will be 17. All your friends will be here, and

that nice boy Erik you made friends with called. He asks if it is OK with you if he could

come over as well.

 

   Cindy turns beet red hearing that Erik wants to come see her on her birthday. They

met this summer at a motorcycle show. He had his old 76 shovel-head Harley there

and they both just seemed to hit it off. They have been friend ever since. They’re both

the same age and in the same school. I will call him in a few minutes mom. In school

today he told his dad and he were putting on the new spoke wheels and open primary

on his Harley. I really can't wait to see it. He asked me to paint a pinup girl on the

primary belt.       

   I think you are going to have the best birthday ever this year. Your father and I

decided to get you something we both now you have been secretly admiring. Her

mother pats her knee and gets up to the leave the room.

   Mom! Can I talk to you for a few minutes please? Cindy quietly asks her mother.

Miss Quinn turns and faces her daughter. She knows that this is something important. I

always have time for my girl you know that sweetie.  Cindy smiles, Thank you mom

this is very important.  

   Mrs. Quinn sits on the bed and waits for her daughter. Cindy opens the top drawer to

her dressing drawer. She pulls a piece of paper out of it and sits by her mother. Cindy

hands the small piece of paper to her mother. Mrs. Quinn unfolds the paper and see’s

writing with a date and time on it, with the name Joseph Curry II. Mrs. Quinn turns

almost white seeing the name. She takes the paper and folds it back up and hands it to

Cindy.

   Mrs. Quinn sternly asks Cindy. Who the hell gave this to you? I want to know now.

Cindy gets a little scared.  She answers. No one mom it’s the guy in my dreams he

told me. I went to the library and found his information on the internet. Please don't be

mad at me mom. I had to find out who he was.

 

   Cindy's eyes tear up. That's not all mom I went to where he is buried. I don't know

how to tell you this. It was like I was looking at my own grave. Cindy curls up in a ball

on her bed and heavily cries.

   Why did he have to die like that and no one even came to his funeral he was alone in

this world. No one should have to die like that. Everyone should be loved by someone.

Not alone and forgotten.

 

    

 

 

   

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