Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
I can see him now, enveloped in the fog. He’s bringing flowers, again. I wish he knew that they really aren’t necessary; all that matters is that he still comes by. He’s already done more than enough. Does he think I still blame him?
He’s wearing a thick jacket. It must be getting colder, but that doesn’t stop him. He came all last winter, even when it snowed. I worry though… if the winter is harsh, will he stop coming?
What will happen if he forgets? What will happen if he does finally find someone else, if he can stop blaming himself? What will happen if he can let go of the past, which would mean letting go of me? Will he be better off? Part of me wants him to move on, take control of his life… but another part of me wants him to keep coming back. Am I being selfish? How long can I expect him to keep coming?
It’s… well, I guess it’s been about two years now. We’ve both been counting the days, in our own separate ways. And I know that we’ve both been re-living that awful night. We’d both had too much to drink… I’ve been sober ever since.
He’s almost past the trees now. Just a few more steps, and he’ll be here. I wait. Patience is something I’ve learned since the accident. A bird cries in the distance. Greg kneels, and places the flowers. He can’t see me, but I’m smiling. Slowly, he stands up, and begins walking back down the path. And I begin waiting for next Friday.
...from my window to yours...
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
His footsteps creaked on the dock behind me. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t say anything. He stood next to me, and we stared at the lake in silence. It was easier than looking into his eyes.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “I… I hope you have fun at State.” He nodded. “I hear they’ve got some great parties.” There. I said it. I pushed my hair back into place, and looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear.
“Yeah… my brother says they’re awesome,” he mumbled, still staring out into the darkness. Of course he’d say that. Of course he’d be as vague as possible. My hands tightened around the rough wooden railing. What I needed was something more like “Yeah, but I’d rather be with you”, or “I’ll miss you, Alex”, or something like that. Something to push away the nightmares. The constant dreams about him drunk at some party, forgetting about me in a haze of alcohol and hormones.
A tear slipped out of my eye, and started crawling down my cheek. I turned away from him, hoping he didn’t see. “Call me whenever you can, okay?”
He grunted in response. Of course, he wouldn’t call; he’d forget. I’d be the one calling him. I’d be the one leaving tons of voice mail messages, all saying the same thing. “Hey, how are you? How’s school? Are you doing okay? I miss you! Call me!”
I turned to him again, not caring anymore about the tears weaving their way down my face. Wrapping my arms around him in an awkward hug, I clung to his side and buried my face in his shoulder. Here I was again, being clingy and insecure. I bet he couldn’t wait to ditch me as soon as he left.
I looked up at his face, but he was still staring out at the moon. I wished that he would at least look at me. I felt as turbulent as the water out on the lake, but clearly not as interesting. No, I didn’t feel like the water, I felt like I was drowning in it. I held on to him even tighter. But that didn’t stop the drowning.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
He could see shapes in the trees. Patterns in the wind-blown leaves. The moonlight flickering between the branches danced on the ground, shifting like a kaleidoscope as he walked. Shadows tugged at the edges of his vision, trying to steal his attention. Every bush, every tree looked like someone hiding, waiting, watching. But there wasn’t anybody else out here. There couldn’t be. David had been down this path twelve times before, and he’d never seen a soul. There was no reason for anyone to be out here tonight, especially this late.
David tugged on the straps of his backpack, feeling the reassuring weight pulling down on his narrow frame. He wasn’t nervous. At least, not anymore. And after tonight, he’d never have to be nervous again.
After passing the last rotted oak tree, he turned into the clearing. The wind had pushed a thin layer of leaves over the bare dirt. Setting down his backpack on a large rock, David started brushing away the laves until he could see the familiar lines carved into the ground.
He turned around and started to unzip his backpack. As he reached in to pull out a candle, a voice rang out across the clearing, chilling his blood.
David stopped, and turned slowly around, his right hand reaching instinctively toward the small knife in his pocket. Emerging from the trees he could see a girl in a white coat, about his height, holding out her hand. Her long black hair drifted in the wind, partially obscuring her thin, pale face.
David looked uneasily at the girl. “What are you doing here?” He slowly slid the knife out of his pocket, just in case.
“I’ve seen you here before,” she replied, stepping cautiously across the figures carved in the dirt, “and I know what you’re doing. It isn’t right.”
“That’s none of your business. And… how many times have you been following me out here?”
“Enough times to be bothered enough to stop you.”
David was starting to lose patience. The moon would be hidden by the clouds in a few minutes, and he’d have to act fast. He couldn’t mess up a year’s worth of work because of this girl. “I really think you should leave now. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
The girl stepped closer. She was only about three feet away from him now. She stared intensely at him with dark brown eyes. “Put the knife down.”
David was startled by the aggressive tone of her voice. He hesitated, and took a step back, lowering the knife to his side. “What are you trying to do?” He struggled to hide the nervousness creeping into his voice.
“I’m trying to help you.”
The girl jumped forward, catching David by surprise. She slammed into him, pushing him backwards. He lost his balance and fell, hitting his head on the rock. As she knelt over him, the night slowly faded to black.
...ghost horses... we ride, tonight...