A Gift for Snow

Drake, lead guitarist of Twisted Souls, mourns the loss of of someone he knew after their suicide. He hopes she will forgive him though a song he wrote her in memoriam.

♪ “Leave me alone!” I shouted one afternoon
And that ambitious smile of yours faded
But I just turned and left, guiltless of how I treated you ♪

Before I knew it, the bell had rang. F**k. Late again. Grabbing ahold of my satchel, I sped across campus to the main building. I then sprang up the steps up to the third floor, up to Homeroom. My professor didn’t notice me down the hall and began to close the door, and, unable to slow the speed my feet pushed me to, I ended up slamming into the wooden door of the classroom. God…*sigh*  I internally screamed profanities, trying to rub away the pain. After five minutes, Professor Veneré opened the door for me, “Late again, Mr. Mortimer?”

“Don’t call me that stupid name.” I spat, irritated with the knot forming on my head. “I’m a rockstar. It’s Drake.”

“...Just take your seat.” He sighed, though I didn’t care. I just slipped past him and attempted to fix my mess of dark brown hair. I peered around at the room. All but one seat of the back row was taken, yes. Hoisting up my baggy black jeans, and ignoring the clang of the chains on them, I started to go claim my seat for today’s lecture. Just when I was about to sit and kick my feet up, I saw the front row. I saw her seat.

♪ I avoided your face, dripping with warm tears
I didn’t want to be salty, but you pushed me
It was so annoying, dealing with small, clumsy you ♪

My brows furrowed in irritation, but I only felt that on the outside. Shrugging, I headed back up to the front, the “goody-two-shoes” row, and I took what was previously my regular seat. I hated the front row, but it was for her. And now...now I couldn’t bring myself to sit anywhere else. I hesitated as I stared at her spot, a beautiful white lily in full bloom resting in a simple vase. A little blue note, covered in swirls and written with cursive, sat in front of it. How funny, blue was her favorite color. It was my favorite color too. Was.

I set the grey satchel down and stared at my red checkered tennis shoes. I couldn’t do that, not to this desk. Not to her. I looked back up at the Professor, impatiently continuing his lecture. Scooting my chair up and throwing my notebook onto the cold surface, I decided to just rest my head against my arm with the checkered wristband. My black band T-shirt caught my eye. “Twisted Souls”, it read, our artistically designed logo surrounded by chains. She loved this shirt...she designed it. I shook the thought away and focused on the lecture.

Not even an hour later and I wanted class to end. I didn’t need Music Theory, I knew enough about it. I’m pretty sure this old geezer never went on a world tour. Bored out of my mind, I stole occasional glances to her desk. I remember her caramel hair and her jade eyes. Eyes just like mine. I remember her smile. I remember us passing little notes, then getting used as an “example” to the class when we got caught. I remember that stupid thing people do in Middle School that we did. “Do you like me? Yes or no.”

“Yes.” I checked off the box. She danced with excitement and we went on our first date that night. The next day, she wore this beautiful blue dress. It was gorgeous, and I didn’t stop complimenting her the whole day, earning me cuddles and kisses and cute, sweet giggles. She started wearing it more often after that, seeing that I liked it so much, and we would try to wear matching wristbands to show we were a couple.

A month later, we found that she was a phenomenal singer, and she was super artistic. She even knew how to play a few instruments the band couldn’t play. I immediately went to the other guys and begged them to let her join, and to my surprise, they accepted pretty easily. We made her a back-up vocalist, as well as the player of any instrument we needed that no one else could comprehend how to play. Almost unanimously, the band agreed to put her design on our new t-shirts, the only vote not for it was her own. She wasn’t sure if it fit, but we assured her it was exactly what we’ve been looking for. We got the shirts made, we went on world tour, things were great, things were blissful. I was so happy.

Until the other guys told me we had to kick her out. Even if we were happy as we were, gossip was spreading. Rumors about the band were the only thing anybody talked about anymore. It was ruining our reputation. She had to go. And I didn’t fight it, I knew this was happening, I just refused to believe it. Everywhere I went, there was proof of that. I spent the rest of the day thinking of possible ways to avoid turning her away, but I just couldn’t think of anything. Nothing humane, at least.

I broke up with her later that week. She took it lightly, but the day after, I could tell she had been crying. So I talked to her. We had a chat and I told her that it wasn’t her, it was the band. She probably thought I was being selfish, I was, but she shrugged it off and we stayed friends. Now separated, things got better, but they then got worse.

Even though we split, the gossip spread more, the rumors got worse. We almost lost our careers as musicians, and it pissed me off. I had been working my entire life for this, and for what? One obnoxious girl is going to ruin all of it for me? Not going to happen. From then on, I began ignoring her, treating her as a stranger, hoping she’d get the hint. But she didn’t. She kept trying to talk, kept walking home with me. She’d ask if I was okay, since I wasn’t talking, and I’d reply flatly with a “fine”.

What finally set me off was when she stopped me on a bridge, a bridge we passed everyday that we used to sit on the edge and hold hands. She stopped me and talked to me, spouting bullshit like “it’ll be okay” and “we’ll get through this together”. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it to reassure me, but I stole it back. “Leave me alone!” I shouted at her. “I never want to see you again!” And without a care in the world, I casually strolled away from her, the chirping of the birds migrating for the fall the only noise to cover her sobbing.

♪ It was nice to hang with my cheesy friends again, without you

Hearing the fans at my door squeal my name

Though be aware, even I need a break from this

I scribbled a note and leave for fresh air ♪

After class, I headed to Jasper’s, our lead vocalist’s, house. We had rehearsal after classes today, and I was itching to pull my guitar out again. When I arrived, everyone was laughing and joking around, but quickly became focused. We were all so ready to start. We just wrote a new song, with lyrics and a beat much different than what we were used to, and it’d be a hit. We planned to top the charts with this one.

Once we finished about an hour of a jam session, we took thirty minutes for a snack break. “Snack” being dozens of pizza rolls, Doritos, soda, and a healthy helping of Battlefield 2. After being taken out many, many times by some a*****e camping by our spawn point, Jasper turned off the game and flipped to a random channel on TV, trying to calm us down so we could start again. The show that came on looked weird, and it made me uncomfortable. It reminded me of...her.

“Reincarnation, or rebirth of the soul.” A women in strange, hippie-clothes said. She had her hands together as if in prayer and closed her eyes, “Yes...she has passed on safely. I see that one day, her spirit will come down to see you again.”

“Wh...what do you mean?” A man, clad in a business suit with tired eyes, asked nervously.

“She will come back for you,” The woman explained, “either a passing spirit to bid her farewells, or reborn as a new being that will join your side once again.” I shifted uncomfortably. “Your souls are intertwined, you two are destined to be together. You will meet agai-” Jasper suddenly silenced the TV, and the black screen stared back at me.

“You okay, dude?” He asked. I nodded and darted for the front door, needing to catch a breath of fresh air. I couldn’t handle it, not that.

The guys in the band often recommended that I go into therapy. I had given it a thought on occasion, but decided that it’d be better for the band that “Lead Guitarist Goes to Therapy” would be best to never make the headlines. All the same, I wondered sometimes if I needed it. After she...passed, I had burned everything blue I owned. I tore my room, full of our memories, to shreds, never wanting to see it ever again. I found myself thinking of her on most days, then I’d open my eyes to find my friends standing over me, cleaning my bloody wrists.

I screamed suddenly. I needed it. Not a musical scream for a song either, a scream that tore through my lungs and destroyed my voice, but relaxed my mind in the end. Jasper flung open the door and ripped me back inside the house, gathering our fellow Twisted Souls to console me. I didn’t look at them, just buried my face in my hands and dug my nails into my scalp. They frantically pried my hands off me and I cried. I wanted to see her so badly, I had held it in for so long. I cried my eyes out, and Jasper cancelled the rest of the rehearsal so I could chill. And I did, an hour later. I managed to bottle up my feelings again and convince everyone I was okay to start playing again, and we played our new hit with low energy, but it was practice nonetheless...right?

♪ Strolling along in a blue hoodie you had bought me, I wish

My memories weren’t so descriptive

Then my steady rhythm faded as I watched you throw yourself into traffic

And a semi came by and broke your petite figure ♪

I shot out of bed, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for air. Clutching my heart trying to break through my chest, I hung my head and relaxed my body. It was just a dream, so chill. ...No. It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. A memory of...that day.

My phone began buzzing, playing one of our songs, “Parallel Paradox.” Naomi, the drummer, sent me a text.

Hey bruh, you doin aight? Just want to make

sure. Rehearsal is cancelled 2day, Liam caught

some bug. Take care of urself, kay? xoxo

Well, no keyboardist, no practice. At least I have a day off to myself. Peering out the window beside my bed, I hadn’t realized I slept in so late. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, then reluctantly got out of bed and got dressed. Maybe pacing through the city will help clear my mind. I probably wouldn’t have, but the rough, tough, one-of-the-guys Naomi was being sweet as always in her text, I had to make sure I didn’t worry her or anyone else.

It wasn’t a hot day, and it wasn’t cold either. It was a perfect Fall day, with crisp air and a peaceful ambiance. Yeah...perfect. Lost in the cool breeze, I didn’t even know where I was in this trash city I called home, until I got to that street. That street, that street light, surrounded by bouquets and pictures and little gifts in her memory. My eyes grew wide, and I had to force myself not to have another mental breakdown. But, it was hard. That day kept playing back in my mind. It was too vivid, it was too real.

I was just trying to cross the street. We needed snacks for the jam session, and it was my turn to supply our energy source, so I was in town at the time. I was tapping my foot on the ground to the beat of our newest song, a sick beat I applauded Naomi for drumming up in her mind. It seemed like the pedestrian crossing sign would never let me pass, so my eyes wandered the surrounding area. To my right, boring people, boring buildings, and a trash city, like always. To my left, boring people, boring buildings, and….Snow? What was she doing?

My breath escaped me, and the world slowed almost to a complete halt. A massive semi was driving by, and she “tripped”, falling in front of the vehicle and colliding with it, rocketing to the end of the street. I froze, too startled to move. When the world returned to normal, I saw people holding their mouths in fright, some people running away, and some taking pictures on their smartphones. I darted to her side, lifting her bloody body into my arms, screaming for somebody, anybody to call an ambulance. But nobody listened, they just stood there. Either too terrified to move, or too entertained to help. They just stood, and stared. The truck driver was hysteric, calling everybody he could and ran to me to stop Snow’s bleeding. But...it was way too late. When the paramedics arrived, they confirmed my fears, that she died on impact. They did everything they could to restart her heart, but to no avail. They couldn’t do it, which makes me feel like they weren’t doing enough, but I know they tried.

The Twisted Souls did their best to help me, and recommended I go to a counselor to help my trauma, but I turned it down. Even though they were willing to deal with the press, I wasn’t. I knew it’d just make it worse on us, so I decided to put a face on and forget all about it. But it haunts me, it haunts me to this day and it will haunt me the rest of my life. Unless I know that my apology reaches her, I won’t be satisfied. I just want her to forgive me, and for her to end up okay, wherever she may be.

People forgot about her fairly quick, save her handful of close friends and her family. She wasn’t very popular with anyone, before or after I met her, so Naomi proposed to leave the lily on the desk of her homeroom seat so they wouldn’t toss her aside. She changed out the flower every week to make sure it was always fully bloomed and attractive to look upon. She says it’s for Snow, but I know it’s honestly for me. She just wants me to be at ease that somebody cares about her, enough to go through the effort of buying a brand new flower every week when the one from before could probably last another two.

It was nice, talking with Snow’s family once again. They banned me from their house and wrote terrible things about me on the internet and tried to put a bad rap on our band, but nobody listened to them, luckily. That was the last time we ever spoke, and I got a restraining order from her Chess Club a few days after, not that I was good at Chess anyways. Even Snow’s best friend Bianca asked to meet me after classes and punched the daylights out of me, despite being 4’11” and somewhat of a pacifist. I felt like all the people I had to come to know and appreciate were ganging up on me, I felt really alone. However, the screaming and adoring fans that stood outside my door every other day, that never miss a concert, that shyly beg me for an autograph on the streets, they proved to me I wasn’t alone. I had them, so it was okay...right?

♪ I couldn’t breath, it couldn’t be real

I held you, dying in that dress I loved so much

It was pointless, no matter how I screamed for help

No one would care to hear ♪

Backstage, the entire congregation of Twisted Souls was jittering with excitement. The crew rushed around, preparing us and assembling a drum set onstage and adjusting the lights and checking the mics. It was chaos, but organized, and we were used to it. In fact, this type of chaos hyped us up. It filled us with lightheaded joy like a drug you could never find anywhere but onstage. The crowd was roaring; I heard the soft rumble of it beneath the notes from my air guitar. I tried not to, but I ended up smirking a cocky smile. I took one last look at everyone, all in punk rocker outfits. Then they called us out.

We jogged onto the stage, exhilarated. Jasper was getting the crowd riled up, requesting they scream louder for us. He was a natural at the mic. With short notice, we kicked off the first song. Then we played the next, then the next. Tired and doused in our own sweat, we got to the new song, “Caught in Check.” Yeah, I came up with the title, after finding that restraining order in a pile of old crap. Everybody loved it, and the band exchange brief smiles that read “top of the charts.”

And what I had hoped for the entire concert, the crowd slowly rose in cheer for an encore. Jasper let me take the stage then. “Ah...before we go any further, I want to ask something of you guys. I wrote this next song by myself, all of it, every single part. Lyrics, music, everything. It’s my first time doing this, so give me your honest opinion.” The cheering died down, and they hushed each other so they could listen. “So, without further ado, my new song, “Reaching for Falling Snow”.”

♪ I wish I had removed that selfish mask

Your comforting smile distinct in my mind

You never deserved that

I wish I could take it all back

I’m sorry… ♪

Once I finished singing the last note, I sighed, completely exhausted. The silent crowd erupted in applause, and I was happy that they liked it, even if they didn’t realize or care that it was about Snow. All I wanted to do was to have her hear my apology, and just hope that she’s now put to rest. A satisfied smile found it’s way to my face, and Jasper made his closing remarks. We headed off stage, more than happy with the result of our performance.

Having everything packed into the truck to go home, the Souls decide they’d drag me for a night on the town. It was snowing. We visited random sites and buildings decorating early for the Holidays, and our final stop for the night, Snow’s tribute at the streetlight. I felt tears welling up, and the Souls patted me on the back, Jasper pushing me forward to go closer it. Avoiding going into a daze, I slowly approached the numerous reminders of Snow, kneeling onto one knee. I pulled a guitar pick out of my pocket, the one I used for tonight’s concert, and set it by her largest picture. I prayed for her internally, smiling for her. “I love you…” I whispered.

Caramel hair bouncing in the breeze caught my eye. My heart stopped, and I turned to face the road. I thought I saw her. Was she….? “Snow...Snow!” I shouted towards the figure. Tears spilled out and I ran onto the road after her. She came to a slow stop, then turned her head to face me. At the same time, I hadn’t noticed the headlights of a semi shining upon me.

I froze.

Author's Note

This was made for a cliffhanger contest, but I was a few hours late and wasn't able to turn it in before it closed :(

I think the ending got a little bit too ambiguous, but I think it gets the point across. I'm still trying to break out of my writer's block, and I type some weird crap to make that happen.

The song inbetween the story is being submitted to a different contest, so the story is written to fit the lyrics.

Was it enough of a cliffhanger, or was the ending too satisfying to be one?

I hope you enjoyed ^_^/