30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 1
Day 1 —Select a book at random in the room. Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story.
Marian was the good angel of our lives-let Marian end our Story. Or perhaps she should be the beginning.
Marian, the love of my life, and the best person I knew, departed this world a month ago. Such a horror I could not imagine. I never thought I’d lose my Marian. Not in such a horrible way.
She was 29. Lively and sociable. She was an activist at heart and planned to spend her life fighting for those like us: the ones who were looked down upon by society. Dismissed by society. Mistrust by society. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised that someone would do that to her, but I can’t comprehend the evil that must exist to have allowed such a thing to happen to her.
The police don’t know who did it. I doubt they are looking very hard. Like I said, society doesn’t like us much.
But she was a good person. And she was only 29. She was young. She was looking forward to our life together. And all she ever wanted was to do good. She wanted to improve the lives of everyone she met. She wanted to make the world a better place.
Marian had been out late that night. A young boy had lost his home. He was 14, and his family through him out. He had nowhere to stay. So he went to the center where Marian volunteered. He was crying and in a panic. Marian stayed with him for ours. She found him a place to stay, she help him get settled, then she just stayed to talk. He needed to talk. Then she started to come home.
I was told she didn’t even make it a block. Someone grabbed her. They beat her. They raped her. Then they threw her in a garbage can. A garbage can. Like so much trash. Like she was never even a person.
And now I am without my love. She is gone. Ripped away from me forever. And the world is worse for having lost her.
I can’t go to her funeral: her family won’t let me. They don’t understand. They say I changed their son. She was never their son. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t they love her, even now that she is dead, for who she truly was? How can they hate me for loving who she truly was? I did nothing to change her, I merely accepted her. As she accepted me.
So now there is nothing more for me to do but find the ones who did that to her. The police may not care, but I do. Marian’s story is not over yet. This is just the beginning of the second part of her story. The part where she gets the justice she always deserved. And when she gets the justice she deserves, then she can end our story. We will end our story together, as was meant to be.