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Short Story part 2

March 7, 2012

Today is part 2 of the short story. I hope you are enjoying it thus far. Please feel free to leave me a comment on your opinion of the story. Thanks for reading.

Letting the engine idle for a moment he glanced at the box. His hands began to tremble. A sweet pain took hold, burning in his heart. The sky darkened. He felt his eyes welling up again. His lip started to tremble. The first drop hitting the car startled him. The rain came slowly, kicking up the dust around the car. He watched as the fog started to recede. The bridge came into view. The rain on the car created a sweet intoxicating sound. The slow pulse, almost making the car sound alive. He debated just staying there, holding on to the feeling. Her smile crossed in front of him again. Her laughter became the sound of the rain, filling the car, wrapping around him. He swore he could smell her perfume, so sweet and soft. He closed his eyes hoping she would be there when he opened them. Her hand reaching out for his, a sudden clap of thunder brought him back. Glancing over at the box, he realized she would not be there no matter how long he waited. The rain had changed to a mist. The whispers of the last remnants of the fog swirled around the edges of the rain. He turned the car off. Taking a deep breath, he reached over to the box. It seemed so small in his hands. Her smile flashed through his mind, then her eyes. The pain took hold again, so strong it wretched at his stomach. The tears started again as he lifted the box from the seat. He stepped out of the car as the first tears fell. Ignoring them and the pain that was filling his body, he walked toward the bridge. The rain started to pick up and small drops fell from the sky tapping his shoulders; he felt her hand on his arm and her fingers trailing down to meet up with his. Each step weighed him down. The rain fell; time slowed. The bridge seemed to be moving further away. There was a flash of lightning and then the crack of thunder. He shook his head, feeling the rain pick up. He willed his feet to move, all of his focus was on putting one foot in front of the other, until all too suddenly he was there. What had seemed like miles, was covered in only a few strides. He looked down as the water rushed below. His hands were over the railing, and the box became heavy in his hands. The sound of the rain hitting the water below was lost to the memories filling his mind: dancing with her, a kiss, holding hands with her, the beat of her heart, and the sound of her voice calling him. His name on her lips brought a new stream of tears, mixing with the rain, lost to the wood of the bridge below. His hands began to tremble again, he couldn’t do it. This was all he had left; this piece of her was it. The pain wrapped around him like a vice, driving the strength from his legs. He let out a cry so wrenching and deep that it almost scared him. It hurt so much. He gripped the box tighter, his whole world was wrapped up in this box. The thought of losing it was almost as bad as losing her again. Suddenly the anger started to build. It started low, slowly rising as he fought with the pain. The anger started to overshadow the pain; it consumed him, his anger at God, at her, at it all. The box became a thing of pain, not joy, and it burned in his hands. He cried out again, not knowing if this time it was out of rage or out of grief. He could feel the anger giving him strength; it filled his bones. He steadied his legs; his arms brought the box up. He could feel the pain in his chest being replaced with anger. The water in front of him began to blur. In a flash of light his arms threw the box, arching outward, flying away from him.


From → Writing

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