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Short Story - My Regret

 

            A feeling of sorrow, a feeling of having done something wrong, is the feeling of regret. Everybody has felt this feeling before and no one is exempt. I am one of the many that have experienced regret. I will never forget how something that I have regretted changed me forever. The incident, though it happened years ago, is still fresh in my memory. This was the day when something I did changed my life forever. It happened one sunny Saturday afternoon during my childhood days. Like every other kid at my age was doing, I was out in the front lawn playing in the neighborhood. My mom, as always, was washing her clothes because she couldn't do it on weekdays due to her daily shift as a housekeeper. That is why mom did all the washing and ironing of clothes during the weekend.
             "Madeley!" my mother exclaimed. .
             She called me by my middle name rather than my first name when she wanted me to do something.
             "Come here and help me carry the basin, hurry!" I heard her calling me but as always, I ignored her and continued playing catch with my friends.
             "Madeley! Where are you?" I heard my mom call again. .
             This time her voice was louder and nearer. I turned my head towards the front door and saw mom's glaring eyes. She's approaching me, I thought dreadfully. I thought that this was it for me, but I showed her my confused look instead. .
             Wha- what?" I managed to say, almost stuttering. 
"Stop pretending you didn't hear me, I was calling you to help me back there!" my mom shouted, even though I was just a few inches away from her. 
"I- I didn't hear you mom. so-sorry," I stammered.
             "Liar! Come with me and help me!" she shouted again. .
             My friends were just watching us and what I hate is that they had just witnessed everything and it was so embarrassing! They almost bursted out laughing but I glared at them and they stopped. Little did I know, they were still about to witness another scene.


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