Salvation

11:59.

 

Her glossed lips trembled as she exhaled and tried to focus on the other people in the room. She had gone to school with these people for the past four years, these people who constantly texted, updated their Facebooks and complained with every other breath about their parents not buying them the latest technology trend.  These people noticed every single miniscule detail about their own life and gossiped profusely about others.  These people who would be graduating in the spring. 

 

She smiled, more confident with each sharp heartbeat and held her calm hands in her lap, letting the glittery fabric lightly scratch them.  Her mom had made her wear the dress.  It had been her older sisters, the one who had died in a car crash almost eight years ago.  Even though she was gone, her shadow remained like a damp cloak because of the constant comparisons her parents made between them�"how perfect she had been and how imperfect she would always be.

 

She plucked one of the green sequins from the stitched flowers that swirled along her dress, pinched it in half and let it tremble to the ground. 

 

Almost all of the girls were in super-tight, barely below crotch-high dresses that pushed their cleavage obnoxiously up.  All their perfectly tanned and smooth legs tightened and then untightened as they walked or when they shifted their weight as they gossiped in small circles.  She never had legs like them.  Her sister had�"she had been a natural beauty while she looked like she had crawled from some dusty corner of a used book shop. 

 

The guys wore black slacks and button-up shirts; some of them had ties, probably borrowed from their dad’s closet, and their cologne spiced the air.  These young men had never glanced at her or offered a simple greeting in the hallway, except when they used her for amusement.  “There goes the dust-mite!” they’d chide as she scurried to class, eyes-firmly tucking hot tears back.

 

Memories of their tauntings echoed against the inside of her skull, rattled around her heart but there wasn’t much left to jab.  She pulled another sequin off and then another, letting them fall to the ground like picked-off scabs.

 

Then, the girls and guys gathered tighter together, crowding from the other rooms into this one, the living room where the mounted flat screen displayed the giant shining ball, waiting to drop and ring in the New Year.  Champagne began to be distributed, and sloshed on the rouge carpet.  Girlfriends found and clasped onto their boyfriends, preparing for their midnight kiss.

 

Her heart, although steady, resonated within her hollow chest, for that is all that dwelt within her.  These guys and girls had slowly fed on her like ants�"biting comments, sharp accusations and that horrible nickname, dust-mite.  Piece by tiny piece they tore into her mind and tangled her nerves into frayed, numb wires. Now, tonight, she was ready to give them the last of her. 

She had not been invited to the party.  She was never invited, but she had no problem walking in and sitting in a chair in the dark corner.  She had learned to be invisible from growing up beneath a shadow.  The sharp corners where two walls meet were always the things that held her gently, just like another space unsure of where it was supposed to be.

 

"TEN!" The countdown had begun and with each number, they got louder and louder.  She smiled and a shiver, like a whisper of what was to come, fluctuated just beneath her pale skin.

 

"SIX, FIVE, FOUR!" They didn't even have names anymore.  They were just 'people,' silhouettes of what was.  She reached into her purse and tightly, yet tenderly, grabbed the cold grip of her salvation.

 

"THREE, TWO,"

 

The voices, the TV, the noise-makers all faded from her and the shiny confetti and glitter became stars falling on all of them.  Her heart commanded her.  She rose slowly from her seat in the corner, stood up on the chair and into the light. [and interrupted the light]?

 

"ONE!"  The ball gently touched ground, people cheered, and she fired the first shot of the new year into bursts of confetti.

 

Author's Note

...wow, idk where that came from lol. hm. been awhile since I've written a short story.

Reviews

[Somebrownnerd]

I must say, that gave me chills, the description of the setting was immaculate; The tension that she felt was touching. Very impressive work on the character development, i felt like i knew all needed to know about this girl to understand the gravity of that scene. My favorite paragraph by far was:

" "SIX, FIVE, FOUR!" They didn't even have names anymore. They were just 'people.' She reached into her purse and tightly, yet tenderly, grabbed her salvation."

Really that came off very poetic. Excellent work, sometimes i wish i could write stories like this.

One thing though, "how perfec she had been and how imperfect she could never be." I think you meant to put a "t" on the end of that first perfect. Looking forward to reading some more of your work!

-J

[eglantine]

aw thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it and took the time to read it. Yes, I believ eyou are right about that typo lol

[Ahmad Cox]

I have to admit I love how you put this little social commentary into context at the end.

[Mark Anthony Games (Hum..]

Superb, I was just flicking through authors like pages of a book I might possible buy. Only then I realized I had read the whole thing, but unlike the book shop there was no grumpy security guard looking at me. Amazing flow, I took the bait with the first casting of you line and allowed myself to be willingly pulled ashore. Very nicely done eglantine

[eglantine]

thank you very much :)