Okay, so I'm in the writing club at my school, and we had a prompt the other day. We had three choices, and I didn't really like any of the, so I found a loophole around the least offensive idea - writing about lust. Turns out lust can just be an intense longing! Score one for lawyerish behavior. This is what I wrote, but I'm not guaranteeing it's any good. Comments would be lovely and appreciated =) Thanks for reading!
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It wasn't hard to stand in front of his coffin. It wasn't hard to lie to his family and tell them I was fine, to wrap my arms around them and whisper comforting things into their ears. It was hard, however, to bring myself to leave the cemetery. The cold bit into my lungs like so many sharp teeth ripping and tearing, but still I stayed. I welcomed the cold. It was the only thing that kept me tethered to reality. Cruel, broken, bloody reality.
Darren was dead, victim to a drug-induced holdup at the convenience store where he worked. There had been no time to say goodbye, or I love you, or any of the things people want to say to the deceased. When they finally broke down the doors, he was already bleeding to death from multiple bullet wounds to the stomach and chest. He didn't even make it to the hospital. I couldn't push that reality away, no matter how much I wanted to, because there was no room for hope. He was gone.
So I stood in a long abandoned graveyard, staring at a hole in the ground in a dress obviously meant for summer. I stood in the slushy rain in heels not meant for walking on soft grass. I stood and waited for a sign that everything would be okay. None came.
I forced myself to turn away when the time on my water-drenched watch read well after nine in the evening. There was no use to just wait in the rain for nothing. And when I turned, tripping on the heel of one shoe as I went, I saw what I had been waiting for.
Darren stood right in front of me. He looked fine, though hazy and snowy like a picture on a TV with bad reception. He waved. I waved. He smiled. I smiled. His lips formed the words 'love you,' and I felt my lips mirror them.
Then he was gone. I didn't even have time to blink. The whole experience couldn't have lasted more than a minute, and yet I felt as if someone had given me one year more with him, not telling me that he would again have to leave.
I fell to my knees and screamed, suddenly filled with anger and hatred and longing so strong that I couldn't control my movements. Everyone kept taking him away from me, and it drove me insane. So I unclasped my shoes and flung them into the rain, still screaming, and I ran. I still don't know where I'm going.
