I have moments when I just really feel like being nostalgic…
Silence but never silence… some thoughts are nothing but shallow, and some may go beyond the deepest I could get. These notions are never spoken, yet words are striking within the depths to the core. Sometimes I wish I could just shut it down but my mind is more stubborn than I am, it is penetrating me completely without a fight, ripping apart the memory I had long forgotten and shattering all my pretentions I had kept all to myself.
****
I was weakened and soon afterwards I was on the ground. Nevertheless, these feelings keep being so strong. I want to scream yet my voice is nowhere found. I tried to stand but my knees are trembling cold. I kept my eyes closed, trying to stop the last thing I reminded myself not to do. Cry. Then tears are running slowly drop after drop, my hands reached on my cheeks denying those tears the right to exist, wiping them off but it just never stops.
“I am so sorry. He’s gone.”
The room gives dreary, cold and melancholic atmosphere with its walls painted white, and the sterile smell commonly associated with hospitals hung heavily in the air. The door was left open and people passing-by furnish curiosity as they walk along the corridor with their footsteps echoing slowly. They look at me as if they were desperately trying to give me remorse. My mind went blank and just stared into nothingness because the more I tried to think, the more I become so despondent. However, my memories lead me back to that day…
I remembered vividly his last memory. It was a quiet summer morning. The waves seem calm at dawn, almost sunrise. The shore is nothing but little pieces of sand trailing my path while I walk towards him. I saw him from a distant and shouted his name, it echoed through the cold and gentle wind.
“Michael…”
I chuckled a little then waved at him with excitement as he turned around and smiled at me.
That was the last.
He collapsed into the sand. I was left stunned. My face turned pale, I felt scared.
In an instant, there was a commotion.
I walked treacherously and my hands felt numbed reaching out for him but the short distance between us feels like horizons apart.
I knew from the moment that it was time.
It is the one last heart attack, the fatal one.
****
I stood, alone, on the dark night sky along the bridge where I first met him.
He said, his life was useless, in the end he will just die and no one will ever think of his existence.
I told him, I ‘will’ prove him wrong.
He believed and whispered, he will be waiting for that time…
And I’m right…
I am right here standing on the bridge, recalling everything from the beginning, asking for something that would ease the pain, wishing for some kind of miracle that would make God return him to me. I was trapped with memories going through my head over and over again. My life is as useless as yours back then, more than a heart attack, it is a special case of pain that only time could tell when this will be cured or if there is any cure. Who knows?
I walked away in tears and whispered, “I will be waiting…”
-THE END-
(This is just a simple short story, I just felt like writing...)
-by: ArjHaine-
June 19,2009 4:50pm
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