A/N: Ok so this is one of my odd out-of-the-blue short stories that'll probably be put as the first chapter of my novel as soon as I can possibly write it out. This is a short story waaaaaaay deep into the story so THERE ARE SPOILERS. You have been warned and if you have any questions at all, lemme know 'cause I will try to answer them as the actual story is not out at the moment. Mainly because I have writer's block for the beginning. I've tried several times…so you'll have to be patient.
Also the title 1000 Words comes from the song 1000 Words by Jade from Sweetbox. It is NOT mine. It's from Final Fantasy X-2 and right now it's my favorite song. So, no, it has nothing to do with 1000 words in the story 'cause I'm pretty sure it isn't 1000 words.
Ok so now I'm done…TO CANADA!! Hope you enjoy the story.
I know that you're hiding things
Using gentle words to shelter me
Your words were like a dream
But dreams could never fool me
Not that easily
Lilacs and White Jasmine.
Her favorite flowers. Connor remembered. He used to help pick them from the backyard when he was ten. It made her smile one of those rare true smiles whenever she knew he was trying hard to make her happy. When he gave them to her…
"Oh baby," she would say, bending over and taking the flowers gently from his small hands to put them into a vase. "You don't have to try to make me happy." She'd look at them fondly, as if remembering something, some old memory. And then her eyes would glaze over and she looked at them as if she'd given them a death sentence. But it was only for a second; one of those looks that if she didn't do it every time he would think it a trick of the light. A figment of his overactive imagination. She'd then turn around, "You already do."
"But I like it when you smile. It's really, really pretty!" She'd only chuckle, kneel before him and kiss him on the cheek and then go back to cleaning the house.
"Save the flowers for when you really need them," she'd say. She always said the weirdest things. When would he need hand picked flowers? He certainly didn't know. That had always been reserved for her. They were only for her.
"Only for you," the fifteen-year-old teenager whispered to the wind as if he thought that it would carry the delicate message to her. It blew gently through dark locks of hair. Slowly he squatted down, so that he was eye level with the tombstone, but still able to keep his clothing clean. He still thought it was hard to believe that she could die so easily. Her will to live was hard as stone, as far as he remembered. How could such a small thing in her chest even bend that?
Suddenly Connor flinched, eyes shut tightly at the imaginary sound of the trigger being pulled and the resounding bang! echoed through his head. That would haunt him until the end of time.
I acted so distant then
Didn't say goodbye before you left
But I was listening
You fight your battles far from me
Far too easily…
It was his birthday. The only day when he'd get to act like a spoiled brat and get away with it. He wanted this, he wanted that, and she would just smile and laugh at his antics. At one point he wanted milk and home made cookies. But chocolate chips require milk. Luckily there was a gas station across the street that made life easier.
"Give me twenty minutes. Be good. Monica's watchin' you."
Connor didn't look up from where he was crouching behind the table playing with his new Walkie Talkie he'd gotten. "'Kay," he replied. At least she knew he was listening. She looked at her son and gave one last look then she walked out the door.
It was an hour later when he started getting worried, but he never asked. His Aunt Monica kept herself busy to keep the worry from showing on her face. She had jumped, quite high, when the sound of the gun exploded into the air. They didn't think anything of it at the time. Probably some nearby car in the neighborhood that had died.
First were the sirens.
Then the knocking on the door.
Last, the grim looking policeman.
Connor shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the memory. He opened his eyes and forced back the sounds. Looking at the tombstone, he read:
Beloved Family, Friend, and Lover.
Connor didn't understand the 'Lover' part of that epitaph. It was odd, really, his mom never remarried, and once, he heard the sisters talking about when she was going to move on with her life.
"You can't go on living like this," one of them said. They sounded practically the same; it was hard to tell which one was talking most of the time.
"You wouldn't understand."
"I can understand, Coral, that's the thing." There was silence. Connor gathered in his mind that the first speaker was his aunt. "You've got to move past this, Coral, save your love for someone who'll need you in the end. You know this isn't healthy."
"Connor does need me."
"I mean a man, not your son." Again there was silence.
"Save your tears 'cause I'll come back"
I could hear that you whispered as you walked through that door
But still I swore
The hide the pain when I turn back the pages
Shouting might have been the answer
What if I cried my eyes out and begged you not to depart
But now I'm strong enough to say what's in my heart
"Did you know," she began after a time. Connor thought it was his mother. She had a resigned tone, like she was giving up. Strong, beautiful Coral… was giving up?
"NO!" Connor wanted to shout. "I won't let you!"
"That once angels love, they never stop, even after death?" Yet again there was silence, but it was short, like maybe the other was nodding to her, telling her it was OK. "He was married, once, but it wasn't the love we felt for each other. The other woman, she was there for different reasons, but they were friends all the same."
Another nod, Connor guessed.
"Does this love take effect on us, too?" It was a hushed voice, like the one speaking couldn't exactly believe what she was hearing.
He could hear someone crying then. Someone moving to hug and comfort the obviously distressed one. Silently the nine-year-old boy crept up the stairs and went inside his room…
Maybe that was it.
His father was the one.
He did this to her. Kept her up crying at night. He was the man who put the pain inside her eyes.
He shut his eyes, pools of gray and brown, calmly, taking in a few deep breaths. A tear fell from his eyes and wet the ground with a soft pat to the soil.
The tomb was surrounded by vines. On the bottom of the gray stone was a single angel's wing. Centered on the wing were two crescent moons. They connected like a broken link to a chain.
Up ahead the sound of thunder boomed. Warning him, telling him, to hurry up.
Her favorite song.
Though a thousand words
Have never been spoken
They'll fly to you
Crossing over the time
And distance holding you
Suspended on silver wings
And a thousand words
One thousand confessions
Will cradle you
Making all of the pain you feel seem far away
They'll hold you forever.
The echo of the lyrics rang through his mind like the piano, playing to calm his mind like a baby's favorite lullaby to get him to sleep.
He lived with his aunt now. Really, it was the only thing that made him remember what his mom actually looked like as Monica and Coral were twin sisters. They always had this connection, a certain deep understanding of one another that absolutely no one could ever break. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been when they found out that she had died. It was probably what ignited the conversation years back. And it made him laugh when his mom claimed they never had it before she ever met his father.
Her favorite color.
Unicorns and Panthers.
Her favorite animals. She didn't care if the former weren't real. They were to her, and that's what mattered. A sign of everlasting hope, and a radiant, pure light that would never give out. An eternal flame.
He sighed, setting the flowers he forgot he had down. A light tapping on the shoulders brought him out of his reminiscence and he turned around.
"It's gonna start raining soon," Monica said tucking a loose strand of short black hair behind her ear. When another strand crossed over her ear and fell before her eyes, Connor only smiled. In one hand she had an umbrella, ready to open it if the weather ever decided to rain down on her. In the other she had a small bag.
"You ready to go?"
"Not yet. I still have a few things for mom, 'kay?" He took the bag, and turned back to the grave. Monica nodded, lingering for a little before she turned away. After all, Raine was in the car waiting for them.
He opened the bag to take out a picture frame, a locket, and a candle. Inside the frame was a unicorn picture. He meant to put the locket around the picture, like a necklace, but instead he found a stray rock and started to absently grind it against the earth, making a hole. Once done, he set the locket to the ground and buried it.
The candle was set atop the small mound of dirt that the necklace hid under. He didn't light it because, of course, it was a fire hazard.
Her favorite jewel.
"I love you," he whispered and stood up again.
And, like Monica, he lingered to stare at the tombstone, reading yet again the words on the stone. Sighing he joined his aunt and cousin in the car.
The dream isn't over yet
Though I often say I can't forget
I still relive that day
You've been there with me all the way
I still hear you say.
"Wait for me I'll write you letters."
I could see how you stammered with your eyes to the floor
But still I swore
To hide the pain when I turn back the pages
Anger might have been the answer
What if I'd hung my head and said that I couldn't wait
But now I'm strong enough to know it's not to late
The wind blew as the car turned the corner and left.
I love you too.