The SunsetMature

Girl of 14 makes her way back to her parents home after her entire family was murdered. When a school funded feild trip/cruise leaves Savanah&friends stranded on an island, a curious injury reveals a past version of herself to her oblivious friends who knew nothing of Savanah's orphandry. Or of her love life. Foster care provided Savanah with a hot counsler, things got heated up but, that being gone from her grasp now, Savanah thinks Layden is still alive on the island.

Most things in this story are true. Almost all of the characters were actual people, that are mostly unaware of their roles in my tale. Half the events in the story actually happened up to a point. But the story is fiction for the present time. I, the author, am Savanah, literally. I chose to name this book The Sunset because it represents the end of the characters’ old life, beliefs, perspectives and many other things of theirs. The Sunset of their individual stories. The Sunset story of a lifetime. The Sunset….

*for Brandon






I was closer, than I’d ever been before. The dream was so annoying, because my main goal, I never fulfilled.

This the dream I've had every night since last year, and yet it's still going strong. I would always run and cry, though I was never sad. Now I'm just impatient to fail, because I always fail. I ran in search of the bomb that I know was here, in my grandmother’s yacht. The bomb set by unknown that murdered my family.

I search as you learn this, just so you know. No matter how hard I try to stop, my dream always goes on. I have to endure it, that's my punishment. 

Yo, this is my story, of my personal hell on Earth. At the moment my name doesn’t matter. Well, it might to you, but not to me, and I honestly don’t care about what you think of me, or anything that might happen to me in the future.

Normally, my tears in life would’ve ran out by now, but it seems like the glands were connected to the ocean or something, because the blinding drops never fail to leave me.

My search becomes more labored each night, and the scene darker, hilighting the unseen gore.

Tonight, I cannot see, it is so dark. Not that I would’ve been able to anyhow, for the sobbing. But I knew this boat so well, that my hunt didn’t have to stop. It was a fourth home to me. Yes, I have a list of top ten homes. Wow, you belived me didn't you retard?

Wait, brain storm, what if my family purposefully left me behind? Why hadn’t this been my first thought when I saw it? Why couldn’t it have been true?

My whereabouts to me aren’t important. The time isn’t either, because it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters except surviving for them.

Strange, the things you remember when you lose something, or everything. Like how I can remember every single little detail about my Mamaw’s stereo, and not her favorite color. I should’ve had more time, this isn’t fare. Why did I have to be away from them, why couldn’t have I gone to? Or at least be with them, in their last hours, minutes, seconds.

And I look up and wonder if they look up or down on me, living.

No! They look down on me, I know they do. I hate myself for thinking otherwise.

Do they pity me, or hate me, or love me? For being alone, not with them, or living. I would kill myself if it weren’t for them, but you might've already got that impression. Now with all the time I’ve had for contemplating, I realize just how easy suicide really is. That’s why I endure because I’ve always been a fighter.

But that’s also why they are the only reason for my existence now, because I gave up fighting a long time ago when living became pointless. I took it tiredly back up because of them and another once again though. No blame is to be shed their way. Where they are, Earthly hates don’t apply.

Not to them anyway, they can hate me all they want. 

What is that insane ticking noise? It sounds like, a bomb, the thing I look for and never find. The noise gets faster; I see the beating black ball. I grab the thing and hang on, sighing in delight, and I’d soon be with my family again.

I’d done the one thing I couldn’t do, I’ve found it!


My eardrums felt like they were sliced to strips after the pulsing ceased. Wait, I’m not dead, and I’m still dreaming.

Damn it.

I guess Brandon was right; you can’t die in a dream or from a dream. You either stay, or wake up. Wake up! Please....

Then I realized I was on the dock a long way away from Gran’s burning boat. Now I hated myself more. I thought dreams were about living your own fantasy. Why couldn’t I just die and be happy? I thought.

I could end up in either heaven or hell, but at this point, I don't really care, I'll just be glad to retire from this fucking battle.

Excuse my language persons.

Now I was sad as the dream tears still rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t do anything to these tears. I usually wiped them away angrily and tried to get to the freaking boat, but of course I never got back to it. No, I let these roll cool and clear down my face, over my lips and onto my chin, giving up. I turned my head away from the fiery scene down the dock and saw where I was, but could find no signs of life.

Why? Tears dripped onto the old wood and disintegrated, into nothing but the past. Just like my family.













The End

1 comment about this story Feed