Hoping. Praying. Believing.

Eleven years ago, my life was torn to pieces. It was almost taken away from me, in one way. 

The silver, frost-white moon was full that night, and it was showing off it's radiance and flamboyance to the  entire world. I was bundled up with an oversized, warm jacket, and was sitting on the side-walk with my head leaning against a wall, clearly looking like a stationary heap of rubbish to which no one paid attention. 

The air was chilly, and the smell of burnt paper was all your nose could take in for miles. The smoke was forming a thick blanket up in the sky, almost hiding the moon and the stars.  Tears were blurring my vision. I could here the distant sound of the fire engine somewhere, and there was this buzz in my ear which mad me want to smash my head against the wall I was resting it.  I remember it like it was yesterday. 

Under my jacket, I was wearing a long, sleek, red satin dress. In my mind, fragments from the recent past were playing like an unstoppable film. The passers by looked at me, but then turned away, as they were lost in the more important work they had to do. some were rushing over to help the injured, while some were just running away. My face held the kind of expression which I myself cannot describe.

In short: I was heartbroken.

I wanted to commit suicide. Kill myself, and just get over with it. Or just run away somewhere and never ever look back. The thought was reckless and stupid, but that was all I could think of at that moment. I wanted to erase every trace of my existence at that moment, and just die. 

It was way too cold for early November. My lips were trembling, and I was shaking. The policemen were still scanning the building for more survivors, and the invaders had been caught, their weapons kept away safely in one of the police vans. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was perfectly alright...

But not for me. 

Those invaders had been caught, and were probably going to be put to death. But they had taken away something from me which God himself could not return. I could hardly remember how it happened. In a matter of minutes, there was fire everywhere, and then all I remember was seeing him get shot.

Seeing my Jeremy get shot. 

I loved him and he loved me. He was my high school sweetheart, and honestly the only guy I've ever loved. It's pretty much a miracle that I didn't go unstable after that. It was like my life had stopped for a while after the tragic incident. I was somewhere lost with Jeff's own soul. It wasn't easy to recover, but they said that life had to go on.

I don't fully agree. Jeff is like an inseparable part of me now. I cannot, have not, and will not let him go.  

I don't want to recall what happened after that. I don't have the strength left to do that, anyway. Here I am: 37, old and still alone. I still love him, and I know that I always will. 

Now after all these years, all I can do is wait for the time when my own soul is separated from my body, and I can reunite with my Jeremy. And I can hope that he's out there somewhere in the stars, far beyond my eyes can see, waiting for me with his coppery brown hair, and that gorgeous face of his. 

Hoping, praying, and believing. That's all I've been able to do till now, and I guess that's all I'll be able to do in the years to come, till my heart stops beating, and I breathe my last. 

Author's Note

Hi, I edited this one a bit to enhance the flow (Thank you Zainab UF) :D

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

You have the makings of a great longer story I think. There seems to be so much more alluded to but untold between "seeing Jeremy get shot" and "here I am 37 and still alone.
Well penned.

[Hester Vane]

Oh this is gorgeous. So emotional without being conceited or clichéd. The language you have used is evocative and I really felt a connection with the narrative voice! A great job.

[Carly]

Great story! Your attention to detail is great, but there are a few typos. I get a little confused with Jeff and Jeremy. Are they the same person or different? It's not completely clear. I know sometimes I get my characters names mixed up too.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very sad poem. Hard to lose someone. People we loved are a permanent part of us. I believe the beloved person would want you to be happy. Bad things happen. We must be thankful for the good moments and learn from the bad. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[Rhianne Ney]

which mad- which made, some were rushing-Some were rushing,
Great short story since it leaves me with the sadness that the main character had left us, readers. Thanks for sharing~!

[Layla J Omorose]

Beautiful story, sad but very beautiful and i also like your writing style. There were a few minor errors with missing letter or wrong usage of words. Such as when you wrote " I was bundled up with an oversized..." the wording for this sentence seemed a little awkward. Maybe if you reworded it a little it would flow smother. Like writing "I was bundled up in a warm, over sized jacket.." something like that. But otherwise this was a very touching story. Good work

[Aehr]

thank you! I'll edit as soon as I get time :)

[Zainab UF]

*sniff* This is such a sad story!

Still loved it, though. I would have liked it to see it a bit more coherent - the flow is slightly disjointed - but the descriptions were great. The ending was quite poetic and poignant.

P.S. It's passers-by, not passer-bys ;)

[Aehr]

oh.. the error! lol :P I'll edit it. Thanks!
Yeah, I know the flow isn't that... flowy (lol :P) I wrote in a bit of a hurry so... I'll edit it soon :D
thanks :D