My Mother's Killer

My name is Marie Sinclair; I am nine-teen years old. My parents were killed in front of me when I was seven; I will never forget it. I had just came back from gathering herbs from the fields for my mom. I ran up to her and hugged her engulfing her scent; she always smelled of the wild flowers and lilies. My Father was a Blacksmith; so he was working in his shop. I headed inside our home and started practicing my sewing. Just as I was finishing my last stitch I heard a cringing scream coming from outside. The door flung open to revile my mother. Her face was as white as snow when she spoke, "Marie hide."

I didn't think I just reacted ; I reached down and lifted our secret cellar and squeezed in. "Come on Mother hurry," I choked out. " No ,there's only room for you now be as quite as a mouse," whispered my mother as she shut the cellar. Just then I heard the door smash open. " What do you want," shreaked my mother. I heard a man chuckle and something hit the floor. I peaked out of a hole only to see the eyes of my mother; something wet dripped on my arm. That's when I knew it was the blood of my mother. The man with the evil chuckle had killed her. My blood began to boil with hate as I looked to see her killer. He was a bald, middle aged man with a scar from his jaw to his smile. He had dark cold eyes that could pierce your soul. He looked as if he was a soldier dressed for battle. The door shut and he was gone.