Missing Her

A Story by jex

A story I wrote a while back. One of the few stories I've finished that still actually has some meaning to me.

Missing Her

1/1

The morning light painted the park, as they met at their regular bench. They would spend hours and hours just talking there, from the time that the sun came up to the time that the moon shone. That time on the bench was important to them. They had been the closest of friends ever since they met, and only now did their friendship seem to be turning into a relationship. He loved her so much, but he wasn’t sure she felt the same way. She loved him so much, but wasn’t sure how to say it.

She stepped closer, gently smiling. She brushed a stray hair away from her face, trying to hide how nervous she was.

“I’ve been thinking about everything. We’ve gone through a lot, and I feel like I need to say this before I lose the opportunity. You helped me out so much in so little time. I want to spend every moment I can with you. I love you.”

He smiled too, letting her know what he was going to say before he said it.

“I love you too.”

He slowly moved his hand to her, as she slowly moved her hand to his. They held hands for what seemed like ages.

Eventually he moved closer to her, pulling her in for an embrace. She kissed his cheek gently.

He was hers forever, and she was his forever; true love in every way.

2/1

He woke up. His pillow was wet, but not with sweat. Tears streamed down his face as he tried in vain to remember everything about that dream. It was an effort made too late. The dream was as dead as she was. He pulled himself into the bed, trying to hide away from the pain that had been his only company. He didn’t want to be awake, or even breathing for that matter. Wherever she was, he wanted to be with her. The past few times he tried to join her only ended in trips to the hospital. The bed felt ice cold, despite the warmth of the blankets.

He wrapped himself into the bed again, eventually crying himself to sleep.

This was a regular day for him, as it had been for almost a year now. He couldn’t do anything about the pain except hide it every now and then and pretend everything was okay.

Eventually the clock struck 12. The sunlight gleamed in through the window and forced him awake. His eyes were bloodshot; little jagged lines of red almost made it all the way to his pupil. His baggy eyes only made him seem a tiny bit comical. He wished he could laugh, but he couldn’t find anything even remotely humorous.

After she died, he did not want anything. No pitying friends, happy relationships, or anything like that. He felt dead, and he didn’t know what to do now. She was gone, and he was still here. He was still waking up alone in his s****y messy room, in his s****y messy house.

He remembered her. Every dream was a memory with her. He just wished he could remember more.

Finally, after being inside for ages, a friend dropped in, gave him a pen and a stack of paper, and left.

He looked at the pen for a while, then at the paper, trying to figure out what to do. After hours of trying to figure it out he finally gave up and got some sleep. The dream he had later that night showed him what to write about.

Miri’s Dream

Every night for a week Miriam Chung had the same dream. In her dream she was on a boat, leaving a dock. On the dock were her family, friends, and a blurred face she didn’t quite identify. Whenever she tried to identify the blurry face she felt a wave of comfort and warmth wash over her. The boat would always leave before she could say anything.

A few dream days later, she would wake up and find herself on the same boat at the same dock she left on, but no one was there to greet her. She would always wander out on land and search for anyone, but never find anyone familiar. When she talked to someone unfamiliar they all pointed to the old Victorian-era church across town.

The church was always open, and she always got there by the afternoon. Inside, the church was barren, with no remains or hints of anyone inhabiting it. However, at the end of the church was a newspaper. The newspaper’s headline was always:

“Rest in peace, Miriam”

Behind her, the person with the blurry face would appear and she would always tear away the blur.

Miriam always woke up before she saw the face.

There were no reasons for her dream, and as much as it troubled her she never let anyone know.

5 years later, she woke up from bed and continued on as usual, having forgotten about the dream that used to haunt her a long time ago. High school had just finished and she looked forward to spending the summer with friends and family. Everyone was running out of the school, grateful that the next two months would be all fun and no work.

Miriam stepped out of the school, looking towards the bright blue sky. Everything would work out. She didn’t want her glasses on, because she was afraid the crowds of other teenagers might cause them to fall.

“Excuse me, you dropped this.”

Behind her, Miriam saw someone who at first was just a blurry face. As he got closer, Miriam saw that it was someone from her class. The nervous guy that always stayed at the back of English class, never really talking to anyone.

He quickly gave her the papers, and then ran in the opposite direction.

They didn’t talk to each other again for five years, when they ran into each other in the city. But by then it was too late for them to get to know each other.

There was a car accident the day after they last spoke, and Miriam didn’t survive. The funeral was brief, and saying goodbye was even shorter. He stood at her grave for hours, finally leaving when the sun started to set.

If she had survived they would have met again, and after five years of dating he would have proposed. 10 years later they would be a happy family with three children.

One accident prevented all that from happening.

Time is unfair to everyone though. Such is the gift of life that many waste. Take life for granted and it can be taken away, so spend it the way you want to and the way you can. Spend life with the people you love and cherish. Because everything considered, there’s not enough time in the world for everything, but there’s enough time for the good parts.

The End.

2/2

He picked up the stack of paper after, reading it through again and again until he finally couldn’t anymore. Writing had never been his forte but he felt that this was the right piece to have written. He wrote it all for her in the hopes that somehow one day she would read his story and that he could let her go knowing she’d always somehow play an important role in his life.

In the end he was glad that he didn’t end up like his character in the story, since in actuality they had started dating the day after they ran into each other in the city. Every day had been amazing since then and ever since she died he felt there would never be any days like that.

Today, however, he felt that he was going to have an amazing day.