The little white thingA Story by Katho28 Some things affect us forever...
My eyelids shut, wanting me to find a sense of peace, even if it's just for one small moment. But flashes of Her face appear in my mind's eye, blinking too brightly... too painfully... And everything around me is shimmering black and grey...
Then, bang! Gunshot to my chest. I can't breathe. Eyes snap open. Breathing again, but there's still a hole in my heart... Can't sew it back up... I fear to sleep. Her face is always there, always with those same hollow eyes, same sunken cheeks, same slanted eyebrows... I rub my eyes, wanting the image to vanish, but I feel wetness against my fingers and I know that She won't leave willingly. "You have a choice," they plead. "You can choose to let go." They don't understand. How can I ever let go? Do I even have a choice? My limbs don't fight back anymore. I don't fight back anymore. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and loathe at what I have become. My eyes stare back lifelessly at my body and cringe at the way my legs hang from my body like clothing from a coat hanger. They frown at those bones jutting out from the wrong parts of the body... Pain is slowly eating me up. My only wish is that it will finish its meal faster. But Pain thinks torturing is fun. That torturing me is fun. "Because you're such an easy target!" they tell me. They don't understand. They give an exasperated sigh, thinking that I'm the one who doesn't understand. Then one of them beckons with his head. Then they are gone, swallowed by the black envelope. --- Five blocks away, close to the lingering smells of fresh bread, a dong pierces through the dark silence. Midnight. I wander down the street. Every step is an effort. I can't seem to catch my breath and my legs are slowly giving away... I hold on. There is no wind, but I am shivering. Dong. I reach the bakery. The sign reads "SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED." I stand there, eyes glued onto the words but not seeing them. For a moment, I think I catch a slight essence of Her strawberry perfume in the air... Dong. The path is growing steeper and my breath is coming out in short gasps. My legs are struggling, unwilling to push on. I lift my head towards the sky. There are no stars and the moon is a tiny boat. Dong. Rolling tyres against the asphalt. Loud, then soft, then gone. Streetlights are stagnant, reluctant to move out of the way. Useless. They don't brighten the blackness in my mind. Don't light up Her hollow eyes... Dong. Grey field of grass, smelling of wilted flowers. I focus on Her grey slate. There are words scrawled across the slate. I can't read them. It doesn't matter. She matters. Dong. (But only faintly.) There are tears just behind my eyes and I let them flow out freely. A gentle breeze has come and it's blowing against my fur. I curl up above Her, legs and tail lying limp on the grey grass. The tiny boat is still in the sky. I feel my eyes closing... slowly... Dong. (Almost inaudible.) A strange sense of warmth enters my body. My eyes flicker open, allowing the first shaft of sunlight to enter. The birds have begun chirping their morning song. Her empty face is gone. Pain is dull. Insignificant. I place a paw upon Her grave, watching the light wash over the grass. Black and grey. But this time, there is also white. It flies across the sky, landing upon my heart, patching up the hole. I thump my tail in respect at the little white thing. It tells me its name is Peace. © 2013 Katho28Author's Note
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Katho28Sydney, AustraliaAboutFor me, writing is something that comes from the heart. I write not because I have to, but because I love to. Because writing is how I express my innermost feelings and thoughts. It's how I show peopl.. more..Writing
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