literature

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He sits under a tree, the hood of his jacket pulled over his eyes. He hears the screaming and laughter of small children in the distance; school has just ended for the day. He watches from the cover of the low hanging branches as the children run to the playground; they pass the time on swings and slides until their parents arrive. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, staining his shirt but he takes no notice. All he hears is her voice calling to him from his memory. He shudders, trying to block out her words.

A clap of thunder startles him, offering the perfect distraction. Rain is falling. He zips his jacket up all the way and pushes off the ground. He turns away form the school and walks back towards the center of town, where he belongs. No one notices him as he passes by. He is merely a shadow, lost in a world lights. It's getting late and he knows he should go home, but he doesn't want to look into hopeless faces he'll see there. So he wanders aimlessly through the streets, his clothes are completely drenched and he's shivering but he won't go home.
The little voice that he's fought so hard to keep away slithers back into his ears, whispering empty words of false comfort. He tries to concentrate on the sound of the rain hitting the pavement to drown out the words but the voice is louder.

When the voice had spoken it's very first words, he'd been wary but relieved. He knew it meant that the last shreds of his sanity had flown out the window, but just then he hadn't cared. He longed for someone or something to confide in. A voice in his head was a welcome relief from the silence. But as the weeks wore on the voice became harsher, darker, a nightmare.

Sirens and light scream in his face, pulling him away from the voice. It's later than he thought. The officers asks about his parents and his home. They call his mother whose voice is like shattered glass through the phone. He climbs into the cruiser. They lecture him on curfew as thy drive him home. He doesn't hear a word. The officers escort him to the door and talk to his mother. He stands silent, his hood obscuring his ashen face. They leave. his mother gives him a wary look but says nothing. He retreats to his room.
He shuts and locks his door. He peels off his soaking clothes and piles them on the floor. It's quiet. The sound, just like the life, has been sucked from their souls leaving them dry and empty. He lies on his bed with his eyes closed, praying for sleep to wash over him. He's not that lucky.
"Nate! Nate! Come play!" her voice squeals in his head. He tries to pry himself away from her memory but it's too late now.

They're at the beach. She's grabbing sand by the hand-fulls and throwing them in the water, giggling madly at every splash. He sits farther up on shore, watching her. Waves crash against her ankles. She shrieks, chasing the tide up and down the shore.
"Be careful, Claire!" He calls, bracing himself to get up.
"Nate! Come play!" She squeals. He chuckles softly and goes to her, scooping her up in his arms. People pass, giving him strange looks. He knows what they're thinking, but he doesn't care.
"Higher Nate! Higher!" She screams from his arms, trying to climb up his head.
"What do you say Claire?"
"Please?" She says to him sweetly. He laughs.
"Alright. Up you go." He hoists her up onto his shoulders. Her little legs barely fit around his neck. H walks around the beach, spinning and jumping to keep her entertained. He loves her so much.

He manages to pull himself away from the painful memories. He can't stay here. He throws on some fresh clothes and grabs his tattered backpack. In it he stuffs money, clothes, food, some books, a flashlight, batteries, a lighter, and a blanket. He scribbles a quick note a leaves it on his bed. He knows it's pointless, but he does it anyway. He leaves through his window, not willing to look at their faces again.

The rain has stopped, but it's still chilly outside. he pulls his hood farther over his face. The first place he thinks to go is the beach. He knows this won't be good for him, hell it might kill him, but he goes there anyway. He walks along the coast until he finds a small cave. There's some drift wood inside so he starts a fire. He doesn't want to sleep, but fatigue takes his toll and he does.

The nightmares are vivid but he can't wake up. The beach turns into a stormy hell. The car is flipped and twisted. Claire is screaming but he can't reach her. She slips through his fingertips. The sun shines is his face, ending the nightmares. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. He feels that way too. He snuffs the fire and takes some cash from his bag. He walks to a gas station, buys a razor and a case of water bottles. He shaves in the bathroom and washes his face. he treks back to his cave with the water.

Most of the day he sits, trying not to think about anything. And for the most part, he manages just fine. The voice hasn't bothered him all day and he's thankful. He checks his dying cell phone. No one has called him. He knew they wouldn't. It's 3 o'clock now. He'd usually be at the elementary school. The school where Claire should be. But she's not there and he needs to break that habit. So he hides his things under a rock and walks down the beach.

He walks for an hour maybe two. Until he comes upon a girl. She's his age, or close to it. She doesn't notice his presence; she's got headphones in and she's drawing. He doesn't know what the picture is, but it's beautiful. He steps closer, watching her draw. This startles her. She pulls the plugs from her ears and looks at him. She asks him a question that makes him want to laugh but he doesn't, he answers her question with a flat tone. He sits down next to her and they talk for a while. She never stops drawing. She looks sad, but he likes her smile. She won't tell him her name so he opts to call her Smiles. She laughs. He likes her laugh.

The voice in his head tries to butt in but he shoves it away, concentrating on her words. He likes this girl. He doesn't know why, but he does. He notices the bruises on her arms and legs, but he doesn't say anything. He knows better than that. He asks for her story. She doesn't have one. She asks for his, and he can't give it to her. They've both been through hell, he can see it in her eyes. Maybe that's why he likes her. He wants to know Smiles. He thinks maybe she can fill the void in his heart. The voice in the back of his head protests but he ignores it.
It's getting dark now and Smiles is still drawing. He thinks of the flashlight in his cave. He leaves her for it, running to his cave and back in less than an hour. He finds her on her back. he thinks maybe she's asleep. She doesn't move when he tries to wake her. She's cold now.

There's a piece of paper in her hand. He takes it, unfolds it, and he's crying. It's her picture. and on the back she's written "It's Annie." He's crying hard now. He misses her and he misses Claire. His sister is gone and he thinks it's his fault. Now Smiles- no, Annie- is gone too. He thinks he might have loved her. This girl he'd known for a few hours. He can't do this anymore.
He picks Annie up, cradling her to his chest, and walks toward the ocean. The water hits his ankles; it's cold. He keeps walking deeper and deeper. He clutches Annie against him; he will not lose her. He walks until his head is under water.
He doesn't resurface.
This is a short story. It's connected to "Untitled" read it and enjoy :)
© 2012 - 2024 InsomniaSong
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lostoutatsea's avatar
Well I just read this, Untitled, and It's A Secret. I've gotta say this one is my favorite. I love your writing style. I actually loved everything about this. I really like Nate's story so far. This and Untitled flow beautifully together. Ever thinking about making a story about Nate and Annie? Maybe like a two part story or something, ending it with this? Just a thought. :)