The White Dress

An English assignment I had to do for class; write a short story with the title 'The White Dress'. Enjoy!

She wasn't right, she never was. It's not that she was mentally challenged or stupid... and she wasn't insane. I refuse to believe that. She had a beautiful mind. People struggled to see that, but I didn't. She just wasn't right.... Depressed; that's what she was.

    I was eight when I first met her. She was different, which made her interesting. She always seemed to wear white, which just made her look paler and more fragile than she already did. Her curly brown hair always fell either side of her face, never down her back, she hated that. She was always pulling it forward.

    In school, she was quiet. She'd rarely speak in school. I'd ask her why, and she'd tell me she just didn't have much to say. Kids would make snide remarks about her, which enraged me so... but she wouldn't even look at them. I think that's something I admired about her.

    As we got older, I began to really notice and pay attention to the lack of colour in her wardrobe. I asked her about her attraction to white; she just said it was a colour she loved. It was peaceful, and it kept her calm... seemed like a good enough reason to me, but it wasn't for our fellow classmates. The bullying got worse; they were trying to break her, and it killed me inside.

    Five years of high school didn't knock her though, and secretly, I was so proud. It was the end of our last year in that hell hole and I had my mind set on taking her to prom. One Friday night, I arrived at her house with a present for her. I sat right beside her on her bed that night when she opened it. I'd never seen her so happy as she was with that new white dress I gave her. She loved it. And I loved her.

    We went to prom together and she told me how pretty she felt that night. She was the most beautiful girl there, whether she wanted to believe me or not. When I took her home, she kissed me goodnight, and I swear, it was the happiest three seconds of my life.

    For weeks after, she'd still talk to me about the dress; how perfect it was, how perfect that night was. It made me happy to see her smile, something her gentle face wasn't accustom to. I was happy to listen to her tell me about her feelings, that one memory... that perfect memory. She liked remembering, and so did I. Thinking about it, I live in the past now more than ever...

    As they say, all good things come to an end, and on the 19th of October 2006, it was her life. No one seemed shocked. Her family said they always expected it, which just made it all hit me harder. What had I missed? She seemed so happy when we'd be together, when we'd talk about whatever she wanted to, which was usually that day, her happiest day... and that dress.

    On the day of her funeral, a day she had brought upon herself, she wore her favourite dress. This was her new favourite day, the one she had been waiting for... and she looked beautiful. I just wanted to lie there with her, as still as statues... and tell her that I had loved her all this time, just whisper it into her ear in the hope that she'd hear me, in the hope that she'd hear those words and suddenly smile.

    But it wasn't me holding her, it was something much darker, much more powerful, much more...definite. She still looked so beautiful though... lying there in that cold caress of death.

Author's Note

All feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you!

Reviews

[Shadey Jadey]

Wow.
My eyes have literally welled up.
This is amazing. Bitter sweet story line, and penned great.
Love it :)

[DarkRainbowPie]

Aw thank you so much! Not to sound like a sadist or anything, haha, but I love it when writing has that effect on a person, thank you :)

[Shadey Jadey]

Not sounding like a saddist at all. I get your point :D

[DarkRainbowPie]

Yay, haha, thanks again!