Chloe.

I didn't know what to think. My mind went completely blank, like everything I had expierenced in the last day was completely gone. The only thing I could think about was that he was gone. Gone and I had no idea, and I didn't get to say goodbye. I couldn't help but remember this one time, I was eight. Dad took me to a festival at the local church...there was the game where you take the big hammer-like thing, pound it on the weight, and see how far it goes up. One of the prizes was this big pink fuzzy dog. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. So like any other kid would, I pushed Dad into playing it. He was a strong guy, he made it to the top and won me the dog. I thought he was the biggest, strongest, most amazing Dad in the world. Like he could do anything.

I was sitting in our family room when we were informed. My Mom and I had just finished discussing what we were going to do the day Daddy got home. We planned on cooking him a huge dinner, me and Mom to welcome him home. His favorites: baked spaghetti with cheese and a garlic sauce, along with garlic bread and tomatoes to put on top. He wasn't coming home for several weeks, but we couldn't waste time, we were too excited and wanted it to be perfect. Perfect. A word I can no longer believe in. We heard a quiet knock on the door. I got up quickly to go answer whoever it was. I thought it was going to be a package I was expecting in the mail, one I've been waiting for for three weeks now. I opened the door excitedly, smiling and everything...just to see this. Two rather large men in Military dress with a letter, and a dog tag. I knew. I knew immediately what this meant, but I was trying so hard to convince myself this wasn't fact.

"MOM!" I screamed into the house, my voice was a mixture of fear, hope, and discourage. She ran out of the kitchen with pot holders on, carrying a pan of cookies she was making for later on.

"What's so Important that you have to-" She dropped the pan.

The Military men understood that we had gotten the point. They handed us the letter and the dog tag, and walked out. Mom hesitated opening the envelope, but after a few seconds she opened it quickly, like she couldn't take the pressure anymore. Her teary voice read out loud: "The Secretary Of War regrets to inform you that Charles Henry Brock Long has been killed in battle..." She stopped there, choking up on the word killed. I tried to hold back my extreme tears building up in my eyes, I couldn't take it. i grabbed the dog tag and I ran.

I ended up a mile or two down the road, in the opposite directions of any civilization. I was to the point where there weren't any buildings, just road, dirt, and the sun. So many different things ran through my head at once. I couldn't keep track of any of them. All I could do was sit and cry. I felt like I was in a TV show. This never happens for me. Never. I thought my Dad had been the biggest, strongest, most amazing Dad in the world. I didn't think anything could stop him. I was starting to doubt it. How could this possibly happen to him? Why was it him? It has to be some kind of mistake. I can't believe this, I can't get it through my head that he lost. My thick, thick head.

I didn't wanna go home. Not yet. I was sitting in the same place on the same road for an hour at the least, when a smaller blue, rusty pick-up truck stopped by me. It was driven by a big man. Tall, fat, and mean. He rolled down his window. "Are you okay there, Missy?" I didn't answer.

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Should I continue this? Or is it stupid? Lmao :)

-Chloe. P.S. If you think I should continue it, help me think of a title!