ClosureA Story by TTinaI'm going back to fix myself and I.And I'm back in my dreams. I’m walking trough this old building that used to be my home. There is no one and nothing around. All the apartments were empty as if everything and everyone suddenly disappeared. The hallway looked the same as the day I moved out except it was much dustier due to the rays of sun entering trough the windows at every floor. On the first floor, by the windows, I saw a little girl peaking trough the stair fence. At the very moment she noticed me, she got up and started running upstairs. I followed her. The girl stopped in front of the purple door with golden handle. This door was the entrance to my heart’s home. She said: -
I’m still afraid of sleeping in the dark. -
It gets better as you get older. " I answered. -
Weird noises and shadow people are keeping me up every night. " She continued. -
It’s all in your head. " I answered. The
girl climbed up the stairs to the next floor passing the windows and going
straight up to the attic apartments. I followed her as we were entering the
flat right above my home. -
I’m alone. " She said quietly. I was looking around noticing how both of us are
small. I understood perfectly that the apartment was much smaller contrary to
how huge it looked from her childish perspective and my perspective. Children’s
ball was standing eerily still right at the middle of the room. There was no one
there to play with a ball or at least bang it down at the floor to annoy her
downstairs friend. I understood what she meant. Right
after, she took me to the apartment next door where she dared to show me three
little girls peaking trough the window to spy on the neighbor with a dog who was
eating carrots. Both of us felt so much joy and happiness for a second. All of
it disappeared at the exact same moment she said: -
It’s past. -
But I miss those times. " I instantly replied. -
Open your eyes. " She had spoken calmly " We will stay young forever. " I laughed.
She didn't. Instead, she took me to the apartment which used to be my home. We
were at the living room’s balcony staring down at the messy downstairs balcony.
Yes, it was messy but not “funny” messy anymore. It’s was just empty as if no
one touched those old stacks of newspapers and other clutter for years and
years. -
Do you think I really like living at this empty building? " Little girl asked
me. -
I could stay here with you. " I came up with a solution. She looked displeased,
saying: -
The sounds of your scary future keep me up at night. -
The sounds of your past keep me alive. " I said desperately. -
No. " She said " The sounds of past make you live a lie. I
really didn't want to let her go. The truth is, I was just afraid as usual. However,
she was the only one that understood this to the fullest. She only wished the
best for the both of us. -
You are never here. " She said with all right " Our body is too weak to handle
both of us and you don’t even care. " She continued " I wished you disappeared. That’s
when I started packing. The girl looked confused which revealed the child she
was. I was standing in an empty bedroom of mine and it all seamed so surreal. I’m
really leaving this time. It was just as unreal as the day I was actually moving
out. I guess I just needed a closure that I have never gotten. The
last thing I took was Meyo. The little girl was not satisfied with the fact
that I’m taking this old teddy bear with me. She was staring at this bear in a
way only a child could. She was attached to the peace of fabric, just as much
as I still am. While I was leaving, the last thing I saw was the girl peaking
trough the purple door with a golden handle staring at the bear. The door shut.
I was walking trough the sunny, dusty building, passing the mail boxes and I
finally made it out. The building stayed sunny, dusty and peaceful. We stayed young forever. © 2015 TTinaAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorTTinaCroatiaAboutHi! I'm an university student from Europe and I love writing in my spare time. Let's be honest, if life was perfect I would be a writer already instead of going to the university. Even tough life is n.. more..Writing
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