Author’s Note: This is a historical fiction piece based upon the events of the Columbine High School shooting, 1999. A main character in this piece is Rachel Scott; Rachel was the first victim of this massacre. This piece is in the point of view of Rachel’s brother, Craig.
Laughing echoed the hallways as I strolled down the corridor, surrounded by my friends. As I turned the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks. There, lay the sight of the century, soon to be turned into the laughing stock of the school. There, slowly approaching me was my sister Rachel. Not only was it my sister though, it was my sister talking to *Cristina Barnes.* Cristina Barnes! I walked anxiously to Rachel and hissed,
“What do you think you’re doing?”
My sister replied plain as day, “Reaching the unreached.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“You heard me. I’m reaching the unreached.”
“But, what does that mean?” I replied, annoyed.
Rachel said calmly, “No one seems to talk to Cristina. I am choosing to be that one.”
“But why?” I cried.
“Why not? You don’t have the compassion to care.” Rachel snapped.
I turned my back on Rachel, facing my highly amused friends as I told them that Rachel was just being dumb.
“I have a theory.” I failed to hear Rachel mumble as I walked away.
“Craig! Craig!” The sound filled my ears as I sauntered to lunch. Turning on my heel, I saw *Mrs. Labokowski* calling me. “Craig—I forgot to give Rachel her essay back today; you think you can give it to her for me?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Labokowski.” I retorted.
“Great. Your sister did such a good job on her essay, she is such an inspiring and aspiring young author.” Mr. Labokowski rambled.
I sighed, “I’ll be sure to get it to her.”
I sighed, “I’ll be sure to get it to her.”
“Thanks, Craig.” Mrs. Labokowski exclaimed, a smile elongated across her face.
“Anytime.”
As I slouched down the hall, my eyes skimmed Rachel’s essay, landing on this paragraph;
1Compassion is the greatest form of love humans have to offer. According to Webster’s Dictionary, compassion means a feeling of sympathy for another’s misfortune. My definition of compassion is forgiving, loving, helping, leading, and showing mercy for others. I have this theory that—“
“—Craig!” A voice interrupted. I snapped my up my head to find my friend, Isaiah Sholes, calling me from the doors of the cafeteria.
“Craig—you sittin’ by us today?” Isaiah questioned.
“You bet’cha!” I shouted as I raced into the cafeteria. The smell of undercooked chicken patties lingered in the air as I followed Isaiah to our table. The essay lay crumpled up in my back pocket, waiting to find me.
*Name has been changed*
1- Cited from www.rachelschallange.org
Author's Note: This is just the first part of a most likely 3 part story... hope you liked it and look for the continuation!
This is so amazing! But sad since I know what the Columbine shooting is... :( I can't wait until you post the 2nd and 3rd part! Keep up the great work!
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