The Time of Their Death

Text Box: anyone else I knew. We’d been best friends since elementary school, graduating from jacks & crayons to homework & detention. I’m just kidding. Neither Henry nor I ever got into that kind of trouble. All our troubles came after the accident. If we had been the only fatalities that day I wouldn't even be telling this story, but the presence of other schoolmates made us question our predicament and react differently to what came after.

Text Box: I can imagine the headline. I didn’t see it myself mind you, as I was too busy trying to climb out of the freezing river. I didn’t realize when I had gotten on the school bus that morning that it could be the last time I ever saw my friends or even breathed the cold morning air. I used to complain of the cold during these months, standing on the street corner waiting for Mr. Mills to pull that yellow school bus up to the curb and let us on. It all seems so trivial now. Not just the cold, but everything. The way it used to bug me that Mom just had to kiss me every time I walked out the door, even though I was

Text Box: now 15 years old. The way Mr. Harmin, our math teacher, would literally breathe down our necks during his surprise math tests. The way I swore one day I would tell Angela Hayes just how beautiful I thought she was. These things seem silly now, but on the day of the crash they all weighed heavy on my mind. It started out as a normal day, if you can call it as such. I stood at the bus stop with my best friend, Henry Smalls. Henry was the kind of guy everyone else called fat, while his few friends thought of him as just being big boned. He had a big heart too, much bigger than

Text Box: Also standing on the corner waiting for the bus that morning was Kate O’ Donnell, a red haired girl with pale skin, who was nearly invisible to everyone around her. Every school has someone like this, that blends in so perfectly they

Text Box: go unnoticed and are often considered as a “nobody”, if they are even considered at all. It’s not that she wasn’t pretty, it’s just that any beauty she may have possessed was hidden by her second hand ill fitting clothes and unkempt hair.

Text Box: Thinking back on it now I think she may have planned it that way. Maybe she believed if she were noticed it would be the death knell to her anonymity. Strange how death can make you see people like Kate with different eyes.

Text Box: The Time Of Their Death

Text Box: Welcome to my latest endeavor, an ongoing tale of mystery and suspense, drama and growing up, ghosts and the afterlife, all told by 15yr old Jonny Deckard. Imagination? The truth? You decide...

All about Angela	2
A boy’s curse	2
Coolies & geeks	2
Rubber bands	3
Don’t cry	3
Paper airplanes	3
The bridge	4