Currently Playing Blue Skies, Broken Hearts...Next 12 Exits By The Ataris -The Last Song I Will Ever Write About A Girl- see related

Picture this scene in your head. A July night. It is colder than usual, by about 20 degrees. A boy is standing in the middle of a darkened street. The kind made solely for pedestrians, and not vehicles. His clothes are all shades of black. On his arm is a temporary branding of a permanent marker. A heart with a cross through it. Suddenly, he starts running, as if he is being chased, but there is no one else there. As he runs, he feels raindrops, and not long after, a heavy rain erupts. The boy continues running, as if determined to find something. He makes it to the river bank. It has no more resemblance to such a bank due to the industrialization it had undergone. He turns the corner and slips on the slippery concrete. He falls right into a puddle. He does not get up right away. Instead, he lies there, face-down. He gets up, with his dark, moderately long hair soaked. His black shirt is muddy. His jeans have a new rip. His Converse ruined. However, he still has a determined sparkle in his eye. He lifts his head and sees a tree on a soaked, grassy mini-plain. His memories flood his mind. The girl. Her smile, bright enough to light up a room. How they were happy, sitting there, under that tree. He pictures clear calm skies, with a few puffy clouds. He pictures her sitting there. She smiles in the most care-free way, watching two butterflies flutter around her. He wishes he could hold her again, but he knows it will never happen. Everything he carefully worded came out wrong. He sees himself standing in front of her. He sees her smile half for a moment, but then turn into a laugh. A piercing, demonic laugh. He can almost hear it within himself, and covering his ears won’t help. He falls to his knees and suddenly feels more awake than he’s ever been. He moves his tongue around in his mouth and tastes the blood from the fall; something he couldn’t taste before. He sees his busted, muddy knee and feels a stinging pain in his whole body. All this, he feels like never before in his life. A sharp pain bursts through his body and leaves him paralyzed for a split second. His body falls to the ground, with his face turned slightly right. He stares downwards at an angle. He sees a small puddle forming. He stares at the raindrops hitting it. His whole body is soaked, bloody and dirty. For some reason, he feels no need to get up. He feels as if this deserted street is somehow his only grasp at life.

* * *

Picture this scene in your head. A July morning. A little after dawn. The air is still moist after the heavy rain the night before. It is relatively cool, and there isn’t even a breeze. It’s a perfect calm. A girl is standing in the middle of a darkened street. The kind made solely for pedestrians, and not vehicles. She is wearing light colors, off-green, peach and such. She walks calmly through the still abandoned street. Her eyes are constantly looking downward. She can feel the moist air condense and form the new morning’s dew. She sees the river bank ahead. It has no more resemblance to such a bank due to the industrialization it had undergone. She turns the corner, and looks up. She sees a tree on a mini-plain and starts heading toward it. She steps onto the grass and heads on, walking right past the tree without even a glance. She makes it to the river’s edge. A pebble lies on the ground. She picks it up and turns around, glaring straight at the tree. After just a few seconds, she throws the pebble at the tree. The pebble hits a carving of a heart with a cross through it. Her eyes have an emotionless gaze, and she never smiles. She walks slowly, stepping off to the concrete and heading right. She slowly walks away, getting smaller and smaller, until finally, you cannot see her anymore, you can only see a tiny dot on the horizon.

* * *

Picture this scene in your head. A June afternoon. The temperature decreased below 80 for the first time in a week. The sky is cloudy and gray. A boy is lying on his bed and finishing a story he’s had images of in his head for some time now. He gets distracted and looks out the window, staring at the sky and the two antennas on the on the building across the street from him. As he’s writing, he is recalling everything that happened in the past month and a half. He is recalling how everything unfolded, and thinking of how everything could have. Everything he carefully worded came out wrong. He stares back out the window. He feels no need to get up. And there is no way he could finish his story.

Currently Playing The Beautiful Brand New By After the Tragedy -Stained Glass Expectations- see related

“No problem.”

“Here’s some candy. I know it’s not much, but I want you to have it.”

“Thanks. But I don’t mind. I like helping friends.”

A conversation that had no need to take place. Simply a nod and a smile would make a perfect substitute. Body language shows when someone feels something such as gratitude, anger, annoyance and just about anything else. Like a soul grown tired of another once they were so restlessly entwined. You can sense such schisms, but they still hit hard, even when predicted.