Home
blades.
It was the hottest summer on record. He reached up, loosening his tie.
His hands were slippery with sweat. A maintenance man on break watched
him, wondering who would wear a suit in such weather. The man nodded
curtly at him, hovering on the verge of words. The man seemed to think
better of it and turned away, taking a drag from his cigarette.
He ignored this, clutching the wilted bouquet in his hand. Roses, she
liked roses. He remembered. He jingled his keys nervously, unsure of what
he was doing here. It had been a year since the accident and he hadn't
seen her since. He didn't know what it was that made him want to visit
her. If I can't find a reason, I'll turn back, I'll go home. He
thought to himself.
After five minutes of walking in silence, he hesitated, about to turn
around. But, lo and behold, he had ended up next to her without noticing.
He wasn't a religious man, but he took this to be a sign. Maybe he should
tie up loose ends. It would only be for the best.
"Hello." He said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit, I've been busy
you see..." He let his voice drop, unsure of what to say next. After
several long moments of rocking on his heels, he sat on the ground across
from her. Normally he would worry about grass stains, this was his only
suit. Today it didn't seem to matter, though. A light breeze stirred the
baby blades of grass that had recently been planted. He clenched his
fist, resisting the urge to pull the blades, an old habit of his. But,
no, silly as it seemed, he felt almost protective of the small blades,
having finally pushed their way through the hard Earth, flimsy as they
were. He admired them. Nature really was beautiful.
He looked up, unaware of how much time his pondering had cost him. He
wasn't surprised that she hadn't interrupted his thoughts. That had
always been one of his favorite things about her.
"I have a lot of things to say," His voice was a whisper now. He had the
strange feeling that he mustn't speak too loudly. "So please do not
interrupt." He added, quite unnecessarily. He knew she wouldn't. He
reached out and gently touched a blade of grass. It was delicate, thin as
paper.
"I've always loved you." He mused, sounding as if he were talking more
to himself then to her.
"I remember when we first met, do you? You offered me half of your lunch
when I forgot mine." He chuckled, remembering the dirty little hand
reaching towards his, a hastily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich in
it.
"You seemed to be under the impression that I was your boyfriend in the
third grade, too..."
He found himself retelling their childhood together, his voice catching
every now and then. When he finally ran out of things to say, he was
shocked to see that the sun had gone down, casting everything in gloom.
His voice was hoarse and a lump had formed in his throat.
"I don't know why it took me so long to come see you..." He had hoped to
avoid this part. But it needed to be said. His chest tightened. "I guess
it just kills me to see you this way." He covered his eyes with shaking
hands, a sob bubbling from his lips. "The accident," He choked, rocking
back and forth. "It was all my fault. We shouldn't have been drinking. It
was all my fault.." His voice subsided, taken over by sobs.
When the cries turned into light hiccups, he stood, tossing the roses at
her feet. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and, as dusk
deepened into a velvet black, he walked to the gate. He wouldn't come
back, no. Free, now, he would go far away. It was time to move on.
The gate gave a rusty squeal as he pushed it. He took one look back. The
moon shone on something rectangular, indistinguishable in the dark. But
he was sure of what it was. Gently, he placed something in his pocket.
Something delicate, paper thin.
Walking through the gate, he left the cemetery.
My first one-shot. If it's confusing:
It was the hottest summer on record. He reached up, loosening his tie.
His hands were slippery with sweat. A maintenance man on break watched
him, wondering who would wear a suit in such weather. The man nodded
curtly at him, hovering on the verge of words. The man seemed to think
better of it and turned away, taking a drag from his cigarette.
He ignored this, clutching the wilted bouquet in his hand. Roses, she
liked roses. He remembered. He jingled his keys nervously, unsure of what
he was doing here. It had been a year since the accident and he hadn't
seen her since. He didn't know what it was that made him want to visit
her. If I can't find a reason, I'll turn back, I'll go home. He
thought to himself.
After five minutes of walking in silence, he hesitated, about to turn
around. But, lo and behold, he had ended up next to her without noticing.
He wasn't a religious man, but he took this to be a sign. Maybe he should
tie up loose ends. It would only be for the best.
"Hello." He said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit, I've been busy
you see..." He let his voice drop, unsure of what to say next. After
several long moments of rocking on his heels, he sat on the ground across
from her. Normally he would worry about grass stains, this was his only
suit. Today it didn't seem to matter, though. A light breeze stirred the
baby blades of grass that had recently been planted. He clenched his
fist, resisting the urge to pull the blades, an old habit of his. But,
no, silly as it seemed, he felt almost protective of the small blades,
having finally pushed their way through the hard Earth, flimsy as they
were. He admired them. Nature really was beautiful.
He looked up, unaware of how much time his pondering had cost him. He
wasn't surprised that she hadn't interrupted his thoughts. That had
always been one of his favorite things about her.
"I have a lot of things to say," His voice was a whisper now. He had the
strange feeling that he mustn't speak too loudly. "So please do not
interrupt." He added, quite unnecessarily. He knew she wouldn't. He
reached out and gently touched a blade of grass. It was delicate, thin as
paper.
"I've always loved you." He mused, sounding as if he were talking more
to himself then to her.
"I remember when we first met, do you? You offered me half of your lunch
when I forgot mine." He chuckled, remembering the dirty little hand
reaching towards his, a hastily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich in
it.
"You seemed to be under the impression that I was your boyfriend in the
third grade, too..."
He found himself retelling their childhood together, his voice catching
every now and then. When he finally ran out of things to say, he was
shocked to see that the sun had gone down, casting everything in gloom.
His voice was hoarse and a lump had formed in his throat.
"I don't know why it took me so long to come see you..." He had hoped to
avoid this part. But it needed to be said. His chest tightened. "I guess
it just kills me to see you this way." He covered his eyes with shaking
hands, a sob bubbling from his lips. "The accident," He choked, rocking
back and forth. "It was all my fault. We shouldn't have been drinking. It
was all my fault.." His voice subsided, taken over by sobs.
When the cries turned into light hiccups, he stood, tossing the roses at
her feet. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and, as dusk
deepened into a velvet black, he walked to the gate. He wouldn't come
back, no. Free, now, he would go far away. It was time to move on.
The gate gave a rusty squeal as he pushed it. He took one look back. The
moon shone on something rectangular, indistinguishable in the dark. But
he was sure of what it was. Gently, he placed something in his pocket.
Something delicate, paper thin.
Walking through the gate, he left the cemetery.
My first one-shot. If it's confusing:
- Spoiler:
A man finally works up the nerve to visit the woman he loves after a strange accident has stopped them from talking for a year. The man relives their time together and breaks down into sobs, saying the accident is his fault (if it isn't clear enough, I was trying to hint that the accident was the result of drunk driving, him being the driver).
In the end, the man feels a weight lift from his shoulders as he has finally said all that he has needed to and can move on now.
It is hinted at that the woman died in the car crash and the man is visiting her grave for the first and last time.
I really wanted to write something with a twist ending, so I tried to make it seem like she was alive and then, at the end, reveal that she ended up dying. What do you think? Too confusing?
