Pages From the Past
My old school friend and I started a blog back in ripe teenage and posted our ‘works’ there. She mainly wrote poetry, I wrote prose, though I did sometimes try my hand at verse too. That blog eventually died, seeing that we have abandoned it, no one goes there anymore either. Our different career paths took us into different directions and now we are barely in touch.
I stumbled upon that blog a few days ago and even though I expected myself to be embarrassed by what I had written back then, I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t (at least not as much as I had expected.) On days like these when I really can’t think of nothing to write about, this journal gives me a perfect excuse to share some of my emotionally cloying and pathetically cliche pieces with you, that, somehow, I can still feel okay about claiming as my work. Read these pieces with the heart of a young teenager and you might be able to forgive the sap. They were written by a girl who was desperately trying and hoping to be someone she was/is not (and who doesn’t know what that feels like?)
I am posting this piece without any editing, excuse a mistake or two if it is there.
February 29th, 2004. (I was 16)
Finality
Standing in the dark corner of the hall she was completely unnoticed. Her black mourning clothes gave her the invisibility she had always yearned for.
She kept staring hard at the happy couple. The bride was the most beautiful girl she has ever set eyes on. Her long, black cloak of thick, straight hair gave her a majestic look. Her tall slim figure was enveloped in an elaborate wedding dress and her eyes were brighter than the diamonds set in gold around her neck.
The groom was as handsome as a man could be. His brilliant green eyes were dancing with joy and his laughter seemed to be the most melodious sound. He was holding hands with his bride and gently playing with her fingers.
She stood there silently for a very long time. Images formed and melted in her mind much too quickly for comprehension. The events of last night stung like fresh wounds. Shivering in the chilly midnight air, she had told him for the last time that she would die without him. The deafening silence said it louder than words…he didn’t care, he never had! The last drop of warm blood had risen to her face and streamed down her cheeks as worthless bitter tears.
She stood there wishing she could give up anything to be his bride, just to hold his hand, talk to him and get lost in his eyes forever.
Oblivious of herself she reached into her bag and looked down at the blurred reflection of her tear-washed face on the shiny metal surface of the gun. It gave her a sense of satisfaction that she had forgotten long ago. This was her final choice, her ultimate escape, the only way she could be with him.
She placed her finger on the trigger, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She smiled briefly at the thought of their union. Click. The cheerful clatter in the hall was suddenly muted, and someone dropped dead.
Chilling! And I must write something for Chai-Stained Reflections.
Hmm.
wow. this is pretty good for a sixteen year old. i wrote trash back then. haha
What surprises me is the bluntness of youth. I mean if I were to write something about suicide, I would probably make it very circumspect and doubtful. Whether to pull the trigger or not, bla bla bla. But this is me (nearly a 30 yr old), but your 16 yr old self didn’t have any of those doubts. Think of a premise and just go for it. I miss that fearlessness! Quite enjoyed this one just for that.
It’s interesting that you would take it as a suicide. I’m still not sure who I wanted her to kill, herself, the bride or the groom. I think it would be best if she killed the bride *evil laughter* or maybe the groom. Lol, see, even after four years, I don’t really know.
I didnt take it as suicide actually. I think its the bride thats been killed, since its only one shot. If she killed herself, she’d be in teh afterlife and the guy wouldnt, and if she killed the guy, then..well, same thing.
Good stuff though.
my question exactly…who died?
lol, deuceexmachina, thats the thing about the piece. It allows you to have YOUR end.