Something I forgot to tell you...
We were 11.
We met at school.
You were sitting at the desk before mine in the file, our last names start with the same letter. You had to turn around to talk to me, and you did.
You said something, I laughed, and the professor scowled. His reprimand was the first of many.
I had a best friend at that time. She liked you, very much. You asked her out, as the sweet soul you are.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something that same morning.
We were 12.
We chose different subjects.
The desk in front of mine felt empty, the boy sitting there was not you.
My best friend was not dating you anymore, she hated that you had dumped her. You did not dare to talk to me. Were you afraid that I would be on her side? I was secretly hopeful.
You liked another girl, I tried to cheat myself and like some boys. I swear, I tried.
The year ended, another summer took me away from school. You were one of the first to cross the exit, and you disappeared in the streets before I could notice it.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something that day.
We were 13.
We had grown closer somehow.
We were happy best friends, visited each other a lot, making up for lost time.
One evening, coming back from school, the news struck me like a punch in the gut. My parents were packing, the house was empty.
Some days later, you were accompanying me to the airport, carrying my heavy luggage as the gentleman you are. My throat was knotted, my cheeks were wet.
You said something, I laughed half-heartedly. No professor scowled, but our parents smiled.
Before I could realize it, I was on a plane, off to an unknown country, while you had stayed behind, on land.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something before leaving.
We were 14.
We had miraculously kept in contact, separated by a thousand kilometers.
You were becoming a tumultuous teen, a nice-looking guy.
I was struggling with a foreign language, battling with a new culture.
You were popular, I suffered bullying.
You did not have time, never enough to talk. I had sad, ugly things going on on my mind.
You called once, I was upset and did not want to say much. After a minute of awkward pause, you hung up, and did not call anymore.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something at that moment.
We were 15.
We were like strangers, still a world apart.
You were a blurry memory. I was feeling much better.
One day, I found your scribbled number on my agenda. Without thinking much about it, I dialed the nine digits. When I finally realized what I was doing, and was about to stressfully end the call, your voice on the other side of the line froze me.
You acted as if we were still friends, and I was too shocked to do otherwise. We slowly buried our shyness, revived our jokes.
You said something, I laughed. There was no scowling teacher, but we could not see each other.
You told me about that new girl, and her special smile. My heart slipped off my hands, and fell on the ground in tiny little fragments. I said I had to hurry somewhere, with the unsincere promise to call back soon.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something before running away.
We were 16.
We were telling our friends about each other.
We shared gossips, we argued about sports and politics.
We both thought we were studying like crazy, but little did we know that on next year it would have been worse.
Fever about becoming adults was already attacking us, we were making strange plans, building castles on clouds.
You were still talking about the girl, but I had glued the pieces of my heart together.
We started joking about the day we would finally reunite again, maybe this same year.
You had exams to pass, I told you I had a boyfriend.
Did you feel nauseated when you heard about it? You did not talk about the girl anymore.
Suddenly, conversations became rare, and eventually died out.
Unlucky I had forgotten to tell you something before that.
We are 17.
We are almost grown ups.
We do call each other, because we are reasonable. We think much more before we act. We have mended our wounds.
I think about you very often. I like our friendship. It is strong, it is solid.
You told me you would pay my flight to visit you on your birthday, I laughed at how much this implies for your wallet.
Things have changed.
No teacher can scowl at us because we talk too much.
No ex-girlfriend can stand between us.
No distance is enough to break our bond.
No jealousy divides us.
You are in love, I have a crush.
She is lovely, he is adorable.
You work to be somewhere, I dream to be someone.
Finally, I have forgotten what I wanted to tell you before.
#love #nonfiction #shortstory
A dirty, rotten, humid smell invaded her nostrils.
Sally felt the forest riping her skin, blowing its icy breath on her goose bumps. Blaming her for stepping on its land without the Sun’s protection.
She gulped down air, failing to relieve her sore throat.
In sight, only darkness. Had she closed her eyes, it would have been the same.
A storm of bats skimmed by her, an ululation echoed farther away. Or at least she hoped it was farther away.
I’m okay, she muttered to herself, I’m just imagining things.
Something cracked in front of her. A dry branch.
Fear made her retreat, her leg found the sharp edge of a protruding rock, her side, the floor.
She was not okay.
Holding her ankle, the woman tried to sit up.
“May I help you, Miss?”
Two big eyes appeared in front of her.
Sally’s cry was not human. It was terror in its purest form.
The clarity of the lantern forced her eyelids shut.
When she opened them again, sweating madly, convinced that she was hallucinating, there was a face hovering in the dark.
Sally’s second scream got strangled in her throat.
“May I help you, Miss?”
The pale face’s body appeared, as the woman’s sight ajusted to the light. There was a white neck, two skinny arms, two skinnier legs, covered by a gray dress. And two long, pitch-black braids.
“May I help you, Miss?”
The kid’s eyelashes fluttered, and Sally felt ridiculous. She had gotten so nervous, while the little girl seemed at ease.
“What’s-” Her voice was a croak. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
The kid seemed to ignore the question. She looked offended.
Sally tried again, “Surely, a pretty little girl like you-” She was not pretty. Not at all. There was this thing about about her hollow traits that made the woman’s anguish multiply. “Has a name?”
Sally wondered if the child had read her thoughts.
“Could you get your parents here to help me?”
This absence of answers was gnawing the woman’s patience. But-
“You’re lying.” The whisper, delivered through tiny gritted teeth, shocked Sally. “You’re lying. I am not pretty.”
Skeletal fingers covered the kid’s face.
Afraid that she would start to cry, Sally reached out to touch her shoulder, but the kid yanked it away.
“Don’t touch me!” She shrieked. Sally could swear the temperature had dropped. “I am ugly, and old! Nobody wants me, only my parents!”
“You’re not old a-”
“You don’t know anything about me!”
The wail pierced Sally’s eardrums.
But the woman’s comforting words were stopped by the swing of the lamp.
Something cracked inside of her. A broken bone.
“I am old, ugly, but my parents love me! And you know what they love more?” The mad eyes reflected Sally’s horror-struck face. “Fresh meat.”
Before the lamp hit her a second time, before she collapsed in a sea of infinite darkness, Sally heard it.
A screeching, hysterical sound.
Suzie Slasher’s laughter.
Live. Living is to love.
Love. Loving is to learn.
Learn. Learning is to laugh.
Laugh. Laughing is to live.
#life #love #learning
“Remember,” said the flower I was talking to,
“To provide me, everyday, some water.”
‘Water,’ I mentally repeated, rolling my eyes, ‘And me.’
‘Me and water,’ I thought again, annoyed, ‘The only words this flower seems to remember.’
#flower #humor #poetry