Author: Tabi Berkey PM
I wrote this for my Contemp.Lit. class- but my teacher said that it was "Interesting. But confusing. Did he kill her" The answer is no- but tell me what you think about it. Thank you!Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy - Words: 434 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 1 - Published: 12-10-04 - id: 1779333
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Striving, reaching for my goal- never quite getting there. Wanting, needing- that love that's gone astray from my ever- flowing geyser of necessity for her. For her dove-soft skin, for her deep-as-the-ocean blue eyes. She has never known of my passion for her- the deep, stabbing pain of loneliness whenever I see her with another. I could be that man; I could fulfill her desires as well as any could.
Walking along, dark gray street as dark as the clouds are today. Today is the day to tell her, today is the day that I shall get my way with her, today is the day I shall finally acquire the love that I yearn for from her. She is there- velvet skin, unspotted by the years; smooth cheekbones, as delicate as china; soft etched lines for eyebrows; long, silken hair and pale-as-a-lily lips. Oh, those pale pink lips. I have seen them many a time in my dreams between sleep and wakefulness. But they always disappear before the sun hits my eyes.
I stop before the café that is as green as the grass, where she resides everyday, searching for a glimpse of her. She is there- guitar on her lap, hue like a sun-kissed dandelion. I walk in, slowing my steps as I approach my one true love.
She doesn't notice me until I am almost on top of her, head kneeling down, bent as gently as a swan's. She looks up and smiles- teeth as white as a newborn babe.
That one word- sinking deep into my mind, etched there forever like a gravestone marker. I turn, running before I even know exactly what I'm doing. I look back once- only once, and see the puzzled expression mounting on her tender features. My heart is gone- torn out by her lack of understanding what I wanted with her- the things I had imagined doing with and to her.
Running home, sweat drips off me, flies backward into the wind. I reach my one- bedroom apartment, despair overwhelming me as deep as the ocean, as fast as a riptide.
Can't take it… can't breathe… must end my misery, must end the hurt.
The gun, cold metal muzzle, an ice cube upon my temple.
Squeeze the trigger, a simple action to perform. Salty ocean tears run down my face as my finger moves closer and closer to death.
"Goodbye," I whisper a word, full of longing and disappointment into the chilly silence.