My body shook as I walked through the door into my parent's silent, rotting, filthy house. Something had happend. It was true. My dear mother's body was lying, curled up on the grate.
'Mother?' I whispered, fearing the worst. No reply came. I looked beside her to see a second body. Father. The Humans had killed them, I was sure. Why had the Humans done this to us? We were poor, but we hadn't done any harm. Elves had been living in peace with Humans for years. It had to have been them. It looked like Dad had been right. The Humans had never liked us. I looked at the bodies not only had my parents been killed, but I was homeless. The house didn't belong to me and would be given to a new family as soon as the bodies were removed.
It was a real shock to me that they had been killed. They were the last people on this planet that I thought this would happen to. At first I didn't cry as it took me a while to realise they were gone, forever. I would never hear my father's soft, yet stern voice or my mother's open arms. My father and mother would never smile and celebrate when I got promoted or made an achivement. Then I began to cry. The warm, salty tears poured down my cheeks, I couldn't stop them. By breathing became load and coarse. My eyes were swollen and my lungs began to hurt. I couldn't stand these thoughts. The thought of never seeing them again.
I knew father would have died trying to protect mother. He had always hated violence and death. It was times like these when I thought my father, who hated guns and had never been to any wars, was the bravest man who ever lived. I wasn't brave at all. Mother and father wouldn't want me to spend my life mourning after them so I didn't. Instead I tried to find out who killed them and why. Although I am tired and it is hard to think, I want to keep trying. I want to know what happened. Maybe the killer was after me? Maybe they had wanted money my family didn't have. I f I had one wish, I would wish to know why they were killed.
I know that nobody would kill my family for the cottage. In fact, it wasn't even classed as a cottage. It had a huge, ugly on the right side of the room, and dustbins had to be kept indoors. It was an ugly house, and I'm sure no one would want it. I kept wondering why anyone would kill my parents. They were popular, kind and good neighbours. They certainly weren't rich. They didn't make a fuss of anything and never made fun of other people's beliefs and religions. As I lay on the bench I felt my eyelids begining to droop. When I awoke, I woke up on a different bench in an alley way, homeless.
I keep getting splinters all over my sore, bent back. Whenever I sleep, I think of mother and father, cut off staring into blackness, just not there. I keep thinking that it can't be true, that you can't NOT be there. I wished I belived in souls and spirts, Heaven and Hell. I don't think the bench helps with these nightmares of nothingness. I hope I can save up enough money to buy a bed. The only thing to eat is slimy, cheap pizza, and to drink, muddy water. Why couldn't my parents have written a will? Did they not care what would happen to me? I wish I would stop thinking like this. They brought me up, helped me, fed me and yet left me homeless. It doesn't make sense to me.
I am scanning the newspapers, trying to find the funeral date. I've found out alot more Elves die than Humans. I wonder who else has noticed. I really think it was a Human. When I find out who killed them, I will kill them, slowly and painfully, though it is not in an Elf's nature to do so. I feel it is the least I can do seeing as I can't chip in with the neighbours for my parent's funeral. I hope I can make it to the funeral. I feel really bad, they were my parents but I can't even chip in for a funeral. I feel I am very selfish person.
Is this enough? Or shall I try to write more? It is alot harder than it looks. So I'm not sure if I'm finished.
CC Was used (Elf ears, hair and eye contacts) : Hobo and Murder.