Dear Kendra: Journal of a Female Serial Killer
Fiction & Literature, Horror, Science Fiction & Fantasy
| Author: | Kym Datura | ISBN: | 9781312058385 |
| Publisher: | Lulu.com | Publication: | February 27, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Lulu.com | Language: | English |
| Author: | Kym Datura |
| ISBN: | 9781312058385 |
| Publisher: | Lulu.com |
| Publication: | February 27, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Lulu.com |
| Language: | English |
I was born on February 14, 1970 at 5:35 a.m. My mother was pronounced dead at 5:37 a.m. Women had not achieved equality with men in any country. Four students at Kent State University in Ohio were killed by National Guardsmen at a protest about American incursion into Cambodia. The unemployment rate stood at 3.5 percent. The cost of a first-class stamp was six cents. The Beatles broke up. Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin both died drug-related deaths at age twenty-seven. IBM introduced the floppy disk. Yes, it was quite a year. Possibly, it was even more so for my grandmother. My mother had died that year and I never knew my father. My grandmother said that the angels came down one night and took my mother away from her pain and suffering. I asked my grandmother once if I could visit my mother’s grave and her response was, “Your mother isn’t buried anywhere dear, she is everywhere.”
I was born on February 14, 1970 at 5:35 a.m. My mother was pronounced dead at 5:37 a.m. Women had not achieved equality with men in any country. Four students at Kent State University in Ohio were killed by National Guardsmen at a protest about American incursion into Cambodia. The unemployment rate stood at 3.5 percent. The cost of a first-class stamp was six cents. The Beatles broke up. Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin both died drug-related deaths at age twenty-seven. IBM introduced the floppy disk. Yes, it was quite a year. Possibly, it was even more so for my grandmother. My mother had died that year and I never knew my father. My grandmother said that the angels came down one night and took my mother away from her pain and suffering. I asked my grandmother once if I could visit my mother’s grave and her response was, “Your mother isn’t buried anywhere dear, she is everywhere.”
