All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Murderer Of The Night
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The night rattled as the gunshots rang.
Awoke young Timothy from sleep
To find his mother lying on the floor in a heap
Deeply distraught he froze
Staring at the blood on her clothes
“What happened” he cried
The answer nobody could provide
His father, not in bed.
And panic filled Timothy’s head
Could his father too be gone?
Murdered just before dawn?
He ran down the steep stairs,
Searching for any unusual affairs
Thankful was this minor
To find his father asleep in the recliner
“Wake up! Wake up!” Timothy pleaded.
A response was all he needed.
Timothy’s father was motionless
And the child’s pulse rose in distress
His mind was perplexed
With the thought of who was next
Was the murderer still here?
Waiting for the right moment to appear
Troubled by this thought
He began hiding, so he wouldn’t be caught
He made it up to his bedroom
All the fears of death began to bloom
Young Timothy sat and cried
Then he lie down and felt something at his side
He pulled it out to look at in the light of the faint sun
His heartbeat halted when he saw it was a gun
Three bullets absent from the cylinder
And his vision became a blur
Come I have done this he pondered
Could I have been asleep with a gun while I wandered?
Blood from his hands slipped onto the bedding
And he came to the conclusion he had been dreading
He put his face down in between his knees,
And realized the murderer was thee.