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Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

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12:10 A.M. (Part One)
By Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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A woman is surprised to find a policeman standing on her front porch just after midnight, and she fears what he might have to say.

Image of night lightning and clouds (c) 2011, by Karla Dorman.

Last night is one I would rather forget ...

I was in my trundle bed, enjoying a good night's sleep, when there was an incessant pounding at my door that jarred me awake.  Stumbling out of bed, so as to get my slippers and my cane, I hobbled sleepily to the front hall and to the front door.  I opened it.  I was shocked to see a policeman staning on my front porch.

The policeman had a very serious look upon his face.  The expression on his face quickly sent pins and needles running up and down my spine.  My heart started pounding.  I knew that a policeman standing on one's front porch could never be good news.  Whatever he wanted couldn't be very encouaging.

"Are you Mrs.  Delken?" he inquired.

"Yes," I responded, fear gripping me like an icy cold hand.

"Well, I am Officer Chan, and I am here to inform you that your grandson, Michael Ray, was killed in a drive-by shooting.  Happened about three hours ago.  Downtown.  He was walking home from work when a car drove up.  A person inside that car pointed a gun out the window of the car and shot your grandson, point blank, in the face.  He died not long after.  He didn't suffer; it was quick.  We apprehended the suspects," the policeman explained.

At the news, I sank to my knees.  I was surprised to find myself screaming, "No! No! NO!!" and sobbing into my hands like a little girl.  I felt someone's hands on my shoulders.  The policeman had come in to try to console me, but I was beyond consoling.  My grandson was dead.  My world as I knew it came crashing down on me, like a thousand jagged pieces of glass.

The policeman helped me to a chair and let me cry.  He tried his best to console me, but I was way beyond that.  I was grief-stricken.  My grandson.  My beautiful, smart, handsome grandson was only 19 years old; he was working to put himself through college.  He had a future ahead of him and was thinking of going into the Marines.  Now thanks to somebody's stray bullet, my grandson was probably lying in a morgue, a white sheet covering his body.

I had to make funeral plans and have my husband call family and friends to inform them of what happened.  My husband was at work; he worked the graveyard shift aft the factory up the raod from where we lived, as a way of making more money for us.  Meanwhile, all I could do was sit there in shock and cry. 

I knew the hardest days lay ahead for me.  Not only me, but the entire family and those who knew (and loved) Michael Ray the best.

~To be continued.~   

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Reviewed by Michelle Kidwell Power In The Pen 6/7/2011
Karen this is a sad one, but well written
In Christs Love
Reviewed by Rose Rideout 6/7/2011
So very sad Karen, just a kid and his life has ended before it started.

Newfie Hugs, Rose
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 6/7/2011
Sad one today, Karen. Well done. :(

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

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