The Day Kennedy Got Shot- My Personal Short Story
Where were you when President Kennedy was shot? What is your story? It was November 22, 1963. I remember the day as clearly as ....
if it was yesterday. I was a little girl living in a small isolated seaside village. My father was an older fisherman. My parents both were Swedish immigrants. I had seven older siblings who had all gone to town to school by this time.
On that day I think possibly I would have been wearing a hand-me- down sweater knitted by my mom of some scratchy wool and some well worn out jeans of one of my older siblings or one of those little flimsy cotton dresses that were worn thin. I had very few clothes compared to kids today.
It started out as an ordinary day. I climbed the hill to the three room school house. I stayed in my class till noon when I ran home down the ditch and the hilly road. I would go down the spooky salal trail, looking out for bears and then onto the gravel road. The path split into two, one for the beach and one for home. Sometimes I would go to the top of our hill and run down the rain soaked grasses to the back door.
At my house the radio was turned on to the news. I paid no attention to it as I was in that innocent trance that childhood brings to you. I was jolted out of it when my mom insisted that I go right back to the school, miss my lunch and tell the teachers something important. My mom insisted that I do this right away. I was supposed to say the "the president of the United States had been shot". I did not want to. I was shy. I seldom spoke to anyone, especially not the teachers or the principal. My mom was Swedish she did not think to write a note. I just wanted my lunch and my free time up on the hill where I watched boats and animals.
Up I went back to school. I ran up the mossy wet trails and through the bush I ran. I found a teacher and I told her "My mom says the President is shot". The teacher was so angry with me and scolded me for making this up. She did not believe me. When I insisted that my mom told me this. She called the Principal, another woman I think. They talked in whispers behind me. I thought I would get the strap for sure. I was confused as what I should do next. I think I told them to turn on the radio in the office. And then we all got to go home. I was happy then but sad that something terrible had happened that I did not understand at all.
I ran down the trail again, through the winding paths in the forest to the hill above my house where the old burnt out hotel was. The sky was bright blue. I clearly can see myself standing on the hill by the cement foundations of the burnt hotel. I think my dad was working on cutting some logs. It had snowed a tiny bit that day.
I remember just looking at the sky, the snow and the burnt out hotel for hours. I kicked sticks in the dirt and had not a conscious thought or any awareness of myself and the world situation. I was in the land of oblivion. I just kept looking all around me at the water in the bay, the boats, the blue sky and the white clouds. It is burnt into my memory just as the hotel was burnt.
The memory of that day belongs to me. The world seemed still and silent. Even though this earth shattering event happened, the sun was still shining in a cold blue sky.
This is a short story by Nora Flower
BLOG NEWS: I will have a new tag at the side, bottom and the top soon for "My Writings" as I am now including my short stories and some of my poetry in future postings. I have written many short stories and poems and when I was in college won awards for them so I will put them in when I am bored. I have not got it done yet.
Sky Watch Friday
The Weekend in Black White
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