- This topic has 48 replies, 10 voices, and was last updated 4 years, 8 months ago by
.
-
Posts
-
Hey, here’s the thread for romantic, emotional, sad-ish stories
————————————————-
He pressed his hand to his chest, gasping in pain.
“Brennan, you need to go to a hospital,” someone in a uniform told him, but he swatted the person away, trying to find his phone.
“I gotta tell her—” he was cut off, still looking for his cell, “where is it?”
Brennan became more and more frustrated when he couldn’t locate his phone in his pockets, so the EMT stopped his struggling, “If I give you my phone will you let me bandage you up? You’ve made your bleeding worse.”
Had he? Brennan hadn’t noticed in his frantic flailing, but it felt good to have the phone slipped into his hand. The EMTs made it hard to dial as they were trying to wrap a wide bandage around his chest, but Brennan knew her number by heart, and had no problem pressing the microphone to his ear.
“Mara?” he asked as the person on the other line picked up.
“Yes?” the feminine voice answered, and Brennan jolted up quickly, making the EMTs push him back down. It was so good to hear her voice when he was in so much pain.
“Mara, I’ve got to tell you something,” he hesitated, coughing a bit. Blood dribbled out of his mouth, coating his chin, “I love you so, so much.”
A laugh came over the other line, rough and sweet, “did you call me in the middle of the night just to say that or is something wrong?”
Brennan smiled as he waved off the EMTs, adding a sad tilt to his lips, “No, nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to say that I love you. So much.”
“You’re weird,” Mara said lightly, “So, since I’m awake now, you wanna talk?”
“Sure,” he coughed again, and tried to push himself farther up, but his strength was failing him. The EMTs situated Brennan on the ground and he kept talking to Mara.
“Sooo,” she held out the word and Brennan could just see her twirling her long blonde hair over a finger, “The fall ball is in a few days, are you going?”
Brennan laughed at the irony, but the action just made him wince, “No, honey, I don’t think I am.”
“Aww,” she said, probably pushing out her lip.
“You never want to go to those things anyway,” Brennan said, trying to console her before she actually started to cry.
“But I thought maybe this time would be different. I mean, this is our senior year. Maybe we mix it up a little,” Mara explained and Brennan knew she was back to twirling her gold-spun hair. He wished he could see her hair right then. He wished he could see her.
“Yeah,” Brennan’s breath was coming fast now, and he was starting to get winded with the effort of sounding fine to Mara, “wait until senior year to mix it up.”
“It’s our last kick, though, Brenn,” Mara pleaded over the line, and Brennan laughed again, fumbling to put the phone on speaker since he was too weak to hold it up to his ear. The EMT pressed his finger to his lips and nodded at Brennan, then his colleagues.
“Yeah, I’m sorry Mara,” Brennan huffed, “I really can’t come to the fall ball.”
A sad sigh came over the line, “What came up?”
Brennan copied Mara, blowing a large breath of air out of his lungs, “I dunno. It’s like on Saturday, right? I might not be alive then.”
An EMT shook his head and patted Brennan’s knee while Mara laughed over the phone, “You’re such a weird guy, Brenn. You probably don’t have a suit and are too lazy to go get one.”
“Yeah, hun,” his voice was raspy and tears were streaming down his cheeks, “I’m too lazy.”
“Brennan, are you okay?” Mara’s tone of mocking had left her voice and was now filled with worry.
“Yeah, just—” he coughed again, producing more blood that ran down his neck and chin, “just tell me a story.”
“Okay,” Mara sounded skeptical, but she launched into an epic tale about a prince and a princess but the princess saved the prince. Brennan’s smile twisted in pain as he tried to move closer to the phone.
She was saving him. And when Brennan closed his eyes and started to melt into the warm, fuzzy blackness, all he heard was Mara’s voice. and Mara’s voice was all he wanted to hear.
“Brennan?” Mara’s voice came over the line, “Brenn, can you hear me?”
The EMT grimaced and picked up his phone, “Ma’am, I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this but…”
—————
there isn’t much rn, but i’m working on it
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
Thank
i’m making another rn
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
The phone rang quietly from the other room and Lee stumbled out of bed to get it. He picked up the phone aggressively and smashed his ear to the receiver, growling, “What do you want at three in the morning?”
A squeak came through the other side, “Can you come and get me? I’m at the hospital.”
“Lark?” his sleep-fog cleared quickly, he then turned a little hostile, “Why the vanilla bean are you at the hospital?”
“I fell and bruised a few ribs at work,” she explained, her voice small and tinny over the landline. Lee ran a hand through his hair and practically let out a snarl.
“Why didn’t you call your parents?” he asked, feeling his hackles raise. I’m not her keeper! Why do I always have to do things like this for her?
“They’d yell.” The explanation was soft, but the effect was a punch in Lee’s gut. His angry energy drained out like a balloon losing air. He was going to pick her up, though, like always.
“Which one?”
Breathing to Lark was a pain, but when she saw Lee coming into the hospital in rumpled sweats and a t-shirt, her chest swelled.
“Lee!” her voice was raspy, but it got his attention. Lee walked over to her, jaw jumping with tension. He’s going to ask me questions about how I got four bruised ribs at a job as a teaching assistant. Lark ran her tongue over the chip in her front tooth nervously. The intensity of Lee’s face came clearer as he came nearer to her.
“I can repeat, why in the vanilla bean rocky road are you at the hospital?” he asked, using his substitute for expletives. When he used more than one type of ice cream, it was pretty serious, “because you’re scaring the strawberry cheesecake out of me.”
That’s my favorite. Lark furrowed her eyebrows, trying not to breathe too deeply or talk too loudly, “I told you, I got it at work.”
Lee’s thick eyebrow raised and she sent a breath out, then winced, “Not here, okay?”
He nodded and led her out to his pickup truck that was parked as closely as he could to the hospital. Lark got in with some help from Lee and, as he made his way over to the driver’s seat, she tried to formulate how to explain to her overprotective man friend how she got her injuries.
Lee slammed the door on the driver’s side and turned to her. Lark tried to copy the gesture, but winced and let out a little yelp. Lee sighed and turned back to the steering wheel, “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”
He started the car and turned around to back up, placing his hard around Lark’s shoulder as he did so. Lark blushed to the roots of her hair and wrung her hands in the seat. He’d kill pa if he knew.
“I know it was your pa, Lark,” Lee said as he inched out of the parking lot and looked both ways in the street to pull out. She startled at his forwardness, then increased the intensity of her gaze on her hands, “I don’t see why you can’t move out. You have plenty of friends that could take you in. For the love of mint chocolate chip, I could take you in. Anything to keep you safe, okay?”
Lark nodded quietly, “But I’m really fine there, he just lost his temper it won’t happen—”
“Stop telling me you’re fine,” Lee kept his eyes on the road but sought out her hand, “why don’t you ever tell me?”
List of reasons ran through her mind, but Lee’s hand in hers stopped her excuses, “I will.”
His eyebrows knotted, “What?”
“I’ll tell you when something’s wrong and I’ll move.”
His smile brightened the whole car, and when there was a stoplight, Lee turned towards Lark and hugged her. So hard she winced, but Lark didn’t mind.
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
I really liked the second one. Romance is not my cup of tea, but I fully respect all those that love it. Does anyone else love emotional stories but not romance? Cause it seems that they always go together.
I love the ice cream flavor expletives. Did you come up with that on your own or do you really know someone who talks like that?
How we chose to fight is just as important as what we fight for
@e_elaine_soup5 @kari-karast @bama-rose
I used to live with a lot of people, but they all died. Now I live with a lot of ghosts.
It sounds grim, but it’s actually rather comforting not to be alone.
Each morning I wake up to the vision of my mother pulling back the curtains in my bedroom. The pale smile lacks the love that I once would see, but at least the ghost tries.
When I make breakfast my siblings still dash around the house, giggling and squealing. It’s not a perfect illusion; their stockinged feet don’t pound the floor as they should. The laughter is a little shriller, a little more wraith-like, but I’m just glad the sound is there. It fills the silence that otherwise would be crushing in its emptiness.
Another quavering figure leans against the counter as I fry my eggs. The eyes aren’t as bright as they should be, but it has my older brother’s teasing smile down to perfection.
My grandfather sits, well, hovers, across the table from me, shuffling cards. I can see flashes of the colors and suits through his thin, white hands. I try not to look so he won’t accuse me of cheating.
The cheerful face of my best friend pops up outside the window. Well, it’s as cheerful as a ghost can appear. She taps out our secret code, asking if she can come in. I nod, so she flickers through the wall and sits on my couch. We watch our favorite movie together. I keep forgetting what she is and offering her popcorn.
I know living with ghosts is probably strange to some. They wouldn’t understand. People have even accused me of being a ghost myself. I don’t mind, really. These phantoms are just sweet remembrances of the ones I loved. I think my family sent them to me, so I wouldn’t have to be alone. I’ve come to love my ghosts, in a way.
There’s only one that makes me cry.
When the doorbell ring my feet drag forward of their own accord. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to see him, but I have to.
I open the door and see his silhouette framed by the setting sun, a tall stiff figure in faded khaki. I was going to marry him once. I was going to have a husband. Now I have a picture by my bed and a ghost on my porch, mocking the promise he’d made me.
He’s the only one that bothers me though. The others help me. They fill my days with a companionship I’d thought I’d lost. That’s my life, the one I choose. I can handle a few tears for a little friendship.
I mean, friends with ghosts? How many people can claim that? Right now I’m reading a book with one little phantom curled up beside me and another leaning over the back of the couch, trying to read over my shoulder.
And the doorbell rings.
“No, please. Not now.”
It rings again and the unseen force draws me up from the couch and to the door. I open it and stare at the same haunting figure I’ve seen for the past six months. But for some reason… something is different now. I want to reach out, to take his hand…
I know, I know nothing will be different, but I can’t help hoping as my fingers stretch for his and I touch his hand and it feels warm, and rough, and real.
What?
“Amy?” He opens his arms and steps forward and I find it hard to breathe.
“Dwight?” My voice trembles and the words are hardly more than a whisper. “They… they said…”
I sense the other ghosts gathering behind me, staring at the young man come back to life.
“They were wrong. I promised, didn’t I?”
I nod. A smile crosses his face. One embrace and I finally realize.
He’s home.
I laugh. We step into the house, still clasping hands. I walk through the crowd of pale figures and they part and break and drift away. Gone, just like that.
I say a silent farewell to them. Life hadn’t been so bad with them, not really, but I realize that it wasn’t life. It was a shadow of a memory, lived again and again in a hope to cling on to what I had lost. It wasn’t real.
I look up at my tall solder and laugh again. He turns to me with a smile and I see all the love I’d been starved for in his eyes.
This is better. This is real.
I'm short, I like words, and I love people.
No, I didn't draw my profile pic.I saw it somewhere, and i’m like yes! I use them sometimes too
I love emotional stories, and I’ve made a pact with myself not to cry unless im in the confines of my three safe reading places
I also have a few serial stories that Kari’s seen about the best couple in the world.
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
Yesssss. Ariannnnn.
Anyways. Here’s a little somethin’ I wrote a few days ago.
_____
“They say life is the sum of your experiences… but what if… what if you don’t want your life? What if you don’t want some of your experiences?” Her voice was quiet, thick with emotion. She finally looked up and met his eyes with her own, pained ones.
He knelt down and cradled her tearstained cheek, brushing the newly brimming liquid away with his thumb. “Hey, hey… it’ll be alright. Everything will be just fine.”
She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, letting him support her. “How do you know?”
“I just know.” He smiled at her sadly, wishing he could help her. That she would just let him in, but he knew she wouldn’t. Not yet. Not fully. She was too afraid of more pain, more loss. But hopefully, in time, he’d be able to help her overcome her fear and live freely again.
It was freezing one day, and I was simply walking to Damian’s house. It was only—what? —a ten-minute walk from my own apartment, and I was already getting stiff with cold. I shivered in the snow after knocking on Damian’s door, and he threw it open quickly, pulling me into the warm house.
“Aria, what are you doing?” he asked as I shed my jacket, sweater and hat. I rolled my eyes at him, but Damian disappeared for a few seconds and came back with a fluffy throw—that I’m pretty sure was mine—and threw it on my head. I pulled it off, and all of the loose hairs in my long braid flew up with static electricity. Damian immediately rewrapped me with the blanket and shoved me into the living room, while saying, “I’ll get you some hot chocolate.”
I smiled at his mother-hen-ness. Damian was extremely protective of me, which I didn’t mind. Ever since we came back into his world from the experience with the other people and those other villains, he had been that way. I was glad to be away from my entrapment of an old world, though, and here I had chosen to leave my wings behind to stay with Damian. I rolled my shoulders at the sensitivity of my scars on my shoulder blades where my wings used to be. The little lines of scar tissue never seem to heal, so I constantly had to move them, dimming the pain just a little.
“Dami?” I asked, walking through the living room and into the kitchen. The warmth of the stove rushed up at me as I strode in, and I stopped, drinking it in for a second. Damian was hunched over the stove with a pan of popcorn in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He looked up at me with a big grin.
“Are you warmer now?” He asked as I settled down on a stool. I smiled back at him warmly, but graciously took the mug off hot chocolate I was given. Damian opened his mouth to say something, and suddenly the popcorn started to pop loudly, cutting him off.
“Yes, Damian, I’m fine,” I said, laying my hand on his, “the doctor says my back will heal with time and my body will get used to not having my wings anymore.”
Damian blew a big breath of air out of his mouth, looking relieved, “Good, I was starting to worry about that.”
“Starting to?” I snorted, “You’ve been worried about them since we came here!”
Damian sighed again, “I know, Bird, you’ve just been worrying me a lot lately.”
I rolled my eyes at him and took a sip of my hot chocolate, “Just because I take night classes doesn’t mean you have to worry about me. I have a bat that I take everywhere and my keys can be used as a very painful weapon.”
He nodded, but I knew he was thinking about the villains we had to face, “Hey, we can’t let people like Storm and Jefe ruin our lives,” I told him, playing with my braid, “The reason I keep my hair long is so I remember, but I don’t let it control me. Damian, we need to move on.”
Damian nodded slowly, then looked up at me, his blue eyes caring, “I have to go get something.”
He raced away quickly, and I watched him as he entered his room. Damian stayed in there for a while, making bumps and thumps, but I let him find what he needed to. I simply sipped on my hot chocolate, patiently waiting. After a while, Damian exited his room and turned towards the front door.
I furrowed my eyebrows, following. When he came into sight, I saw him pulling on his favorite leather jacket, scarf and beanie.
“Dami, where are you going?” I asked, wrapping the blanket further around me. He smiled softly at me, then held up my jacket.
“I need to take you somewhere,” he said, and my eyebrows dipped lower. I didn’t ask questions, though they were stirring in my mind. I only pulled on my outerwear and followed him outside into the snowy cold.
Damian pulled me along for a little, and my back started to hurt, “Damian, what are we doing?”
He didn’t answer, but pulled be farther into town. Soon, we were standing in front of the River’s outlet mall and he was stopping in the middle of a big crowd of strangers. I opened my mouth to repeat my previous question, but he pressed a finger to my lips.
“I’ve wanted to ask this question for a very, very long time,” he said, pulling a small velvet box out of his jacket and getting on one knee, “and I wanted everyone possible to see it. Aria LeeAnne, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
My eyes seemed to pop out of my head and my mouth dropped open, “Yes! YES YES YES!”
I wrapped Damian in a hug and he placed his chin on top of my head as people cheered. We hugged for a long time until I spoke up.
“Hey Damian?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go inside? It’s cold.”
He smiled and pulled me inside the mall.
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
She stared at the ceiling. The speakers. The pictures. The freaking rug. Anything but HIM. Why was he there?
This is his party, idiot, She berated herself, screaming silently in her brain.
“Cass, where are you going to college?” an older man from the church asked her. Her brain lagged for a minute, then caught up with the speed of everyone else’s.
“KC,” she said quietly. The man that had asked the question lit up. Cass knew what comment was coming next and she wanted to sink into the fabric of the couch cushions. HE was also going to KC, too but that wasn’t why she was going there. Cass had been accepted before she even developed a crush on HIM.
“Bear’s going there, too,” the man–his name was Stanford–said happily, “You guys could carpool!”
“No!” both Cass and Bear said at the same time, then looked at each other with the same face. Slight offence.
Cass knew her reason for not wanting to drive. Her powder pink ’57 bel air, Bessie was the best car on earth and it was going to Kansas with her, no arguments. but why didn’t Bear?
She raised an eyebrow at him incredulously, her face full of a vicious question. Bear knew why Cass didn’t want to drive with him; because it would suffocate her due to the tension. Since he knew she liked him. It had happened at the Super bowl party. Having a minor lapse in judgement, Cass had pulled him over and talked to him, her voice a little hushed and stumbling against each word.
He had turned her down. “Dating in high school is meaningless, Cassandra.” The use of her full name was like a punch to her gut. Only her good friends called her Cass or Cassie. Maybe a person that had known her for a long time, like Stanford. Bear had started to call her by her nickname, but Cass had to go and ruin it.
“I know Cassandra,” Cass winced, “loves her car and I don’t. It’s old and smells.”
Her eyebrow raised higher and Cass turned to face Bear. A phrase that her best friend coined for when people dissed her car echoed through her head. Touch Bessie and things will get messy. They would get messy here, but it was Bear’s own party, and Cass would not make a scene at a grad party.
The food was served soon, and Cass was able to escape the awkward conversation. If Cass could stop talking by shoving her face with food, she would
Bear stared back at Cass as she filled up her plate with brisket. He closed his eyes and groaned in his head. Why did I diss her car? She loves that thing! That’s the only thing she ever talked about. Bear actually loved it. He thought it was adorable that she named it Bessie. Bessie of all things!
She finished her food and hugged his mom, saying she had a date with the library and started to leave. Bear disengaged himself from the conversation, dropping his plate onto an end table and following her out the door, to Bessie.
She started the car and Bear launched into the passenger side as quickly as he could. Cass raised an eyebrow.
“Mess with Bessie and things will get messy,” she said plainly. She should’ve had a tattoo of it already, with a little cartoon of Bessie next to it.
“I didn’t mean to make fun of your car,” Bear tried to reconcile, “it was just too awkward in there. I didn’t know you were going to KC.”
“Yeah,” she said, staring at the large steering wheel.
“I’m glad you are,” Bear said quietly, “I really like you. I didn’t notice it before you…um…told me, but now.… Now I like you.”
Cass looked up at Bear, fingering her necklace. It was a new purchase, dainty and gold. The charm was a bit confusing, with two hearts that were connected but forming each other. Cass’s crazy eyes–heterochromic, one blue and one green–glared at him.
“Too little too late, Bear. Now, get out of my car or things will. get. messy.”
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
@kayla-skywriter Yes! I enjoy emotional but not always romantic stories.
These are fun to read, guys!
"No matter how much it hurts, how dark it gets, or how hard you fall, you are never out of the fight."
He stepped up to her, holding out his arms. She nodded, and laced her arms around his neck, beginning to sway to the music.
He rubbed his short hair and sighed, “Lately, I’ve been—I’ve been thinking,” he stuttered, trying to spit out his words, “I want you to be happier.” She raised an eyebrow, and he repeated, more adamantly, “I want you to be happier!”
She rolled her eyes and started to pull away, but he held her harder and started to speak quickly, “When the morning comes—When see what we’ve become…”
He scrambled to explain his metaphor when the woman dancing with him seemed to be confused, “In the cold light of day, we’re a flame in the wind, not the fire that we’ve begun. Every argument, every word we can’t take back. ‘Cause with all that has happened, I think that we both know the way that the story ends.”
Opening her mouth to speak—to argue with his true statement—but he stopped her, brushing a small bit of her silky hair behind her ear. “Then—only for a minute—I want to change my mind ‘cause this just don’t feel right to me. I want to raise your spirits, I want to see you smile, but I know that means I’ll have to leave.”
A tear rolled down one of her cheeks and ran through her perfect makeup. Eyes pleading with him not to let go, she clung to him harder.
“Lately, I’ve been—I’ve been thinking. I want you to be happier.”
She reached out as he pulled away.
He watched her as she smiled, laughing with friends as they walked away. She caught his eye and said something to the guy that was holding her hand, then made her way over to her former boyfriend.
“When the evening falls, and I’m left here with my thoughts, and the image of you being with someone else, well it’s eating me up inside. But we ran our course, we pretend that we’re okay. But if we jump together at least we can swim far away from the wreck we made.”
An angry look took over her face, and she started to push him away. He gripped her arms, “Then—only for a minute—I want to change my mind ‘cause this just don’t feel right to me. I want to raise your spirits, I want to see you smile, but I know that means I’ll have to leave. I want you to be happier,” he repeated it as if to make it cemented in his brain, “I want you to be happier.”
She pulled her arms out of his grasp and gave him a full-on slap.
“So, I’ll go. I’ll go,” he said, patting the air, then repeating it again, “I’ll go—go—go.”
She turned, and, without regret, left him on the spot as he had with her before.
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back
Love these guys… Super, super sweet… @anne-of-lothlorien Yours was haunting… *Shivers* Have you ever read Rilla of Ingleside? It sort of reminded me of that book…
@e_elaine_soup5 I loved the first and third ones you did!!O.K. Here’s my attempt. 🙂
7:00 PM
There’s no sunlight left. It’s snowing softly, and I’m stuck. I wanted to get to Chris’s house, I wanted to tell him I was sorry. All I wanted to do was make it right because he was all I had left in the world to love, and despite what I had said when we broke up, I still loved him. I was walking the six miles to his house because my car had to decide that of all days to be ornery and not run, it had to be today. I hadn’t counted on spraining my ankle on the slick ice on the road though. I’m about three miles away from my house now with a icicle covered rock face to my left and snow dusted spruces to the right. I knew I was in trouble the moment I felt my ankle twist. I am three miles away from Chris’s house, and I know that there will be no cars on this road tonight. Up here in the mountains there’s not much traffic any day, let alone Christmas Eve. I limp along as best as I can because I know I can’t just stop right there in the middle of the road. It’s way too dark and way too cold.
8:00 PM
The going’s been slow. I guess I didn’t just sprain my ankle, it’s got to be broken. I found a stick to lean on, but it’s not helping much. I should have been at Chris’s house by now, but this stupid ankle of mine won’t let me go much faster than a snail. I have to keep stopping to rest, and the time I slipped on more ice, it was a good twenty minutes before I could walk without being dizzy with pain. It’s so cold out here, I don’t know if my hands will ever feel warm again, and even my bones feel frosty. I have to stop now and rest, breathing hurts so bad… I think about if only I could have made it to Chris’s house. It’s a perfect Christmas Eve tonight. The snow isn’t falling too hard, just a magical sprinkling of powdered sugar it seems. If I had made it back, I would have begged Chris to forgive me of being a fool, and he would have forgiven me because he still loves me, I know he always will. We would have been together again. He’d give me that beautiful ring back, the one I had shoved angrily into his hand that horrible day I had made my mistake and broken up with him. That would have been the best Christmas gift I could ever have imagined…
9:00 PM
I’m lost. Stupid stick broke and I needed another one. I can’t believe I went looking in the spruces like the idiot that I am. The snow is falling harder and I can’t find the road again. I’m starting to get really cold. My skin feels frozen and I can’t feel my hands or feet. I have to find the road again, I don’t know which way I’m going, but I can’t just stop out here. I’m so tired…
10:00 PM
I can’t feel anything it seems. My coat doesn’t protect my heart from the cold, I think my mittens are useless, and if the hairs under my hat aren’t frozen, then ice water steams like a cup of my favorite herbal tea. Now it’s not just my ankle that hurts, my whole leg is burning with cramps. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going… I have to keep moving or I’ll freeze. I don’t want to die! I just want to find Chris’s house and throw myself in his arms and be warm. I just want to know he forgives me… I just want him to know that I love him… I have to keep going. I think I’ve been crying, the ice on my face must have been tears. If only I could just look up and see the warm and gentle light falling from Chris’s windows to make perfect squares of living gold in the snow, but I can’t see more than a few feet ahead of me. I’m so lost, and I’m so lonely. I just want Chris, I don’t want to be the only living soul in this world of snow and tree.
11:00 PM
I can’t walk anymore. My legs are too stiff, my feet are numb. All I can do is just try to keep warm. I have to find a place to sit down…
11:15 PM
I found a spruce tree to sit against. I’m curled up into a ball to try to keep warm, but what’s the use? The snow keeps on falling, and I think I must be turning to ice.
11:30 PM
I can hardly keep my eyes open, I’m so tired… Am I dying? If I fall asleep I don’t think I’ll wake up. A tear runs down my face but freezes on the way down my cheek.
11:45 PM
I’m hardly awake anymore, but I’m not alone either. I imagine that Chris is sitting next to me, his arm is around my shoulders and we’re looking up at the sky. A big patch of cloud moved aside, and we can see the stars. It’s so beautiful, and it’s going to be Christmas soon. He’s forgiven me, and my ring is sparkling on my finger, I couldn’t be happier. He couldn’t be happier either, I know by the way he gently kisses the top of my head and I lean on his shoulder and close my eyes…
12:00 PM
I’m knocking on Libby’s door, just like I did ten minutes ago. I guess she’s sleeping in there, angel girl. It’s been a year, but tonight I couldn’t get her off my mind. I just wanted her back, to tell her that I was sorry for the things I said and beg her to forgive me. I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone, or the rest of my life either for that matter! I miss her too much. If I have to sit on the other side of her door all night then fine, but I’m not going away until she comes out and I can tell her I love her.
And Merry Christmas.
Tek an ohta! Tek an cala!
- The forum ‘General Writing Discussions’ is closed to new topics and replies.
