It's a miracle! Another story, so quickly after the previous one! This one is based on a song by a band that I recently discovered. They are called Hunger, currently supporting Against the Current on tour, and although I couldn't go to the show, I absolutely love their music. That's why the coming story is based on their single "Gravity", but I was also inspired by the music video and the blurb on their website: "Gravity describes the force of attraction in ourselves to both the dark and the beauty. We all tend to break out sometimes and fall back in schemes and habits that we actually abhor. We are just blinded by the beauty of self-destruction."
The story is a bit dark, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Gravity Her The bridge had always been one of my favourite places, even when I was a child. I’d lived in this town for my entire life, watched all my friends leave to the city, but somehow, I remained behind. Perhaps it was the bridge. Perhaps it was something else. The bridge connected the southern part of the town to the northern part, since both were separated by a high way and a river running through. The bridge went over both of them, which is why it was one of my favourite places. There were always people walking on the bridge, but you could also watch down and count the red cars, or look down on the people walking their dogs on the river banks. You had the beauty of nature on one side, and modern life on the other; it was perfect. As a child, I loved to take walks with my family, because we’d often use the bridge to cross to the other part of the town. I’d always lived in the north, but most of the shops and restaurants were in the south, which meant that I used the bridge very often. My mom would never leave me alone on the bridge when I was young, afraid that I’d fall off. But every now and then, I’d sneak out and spend hours on the bridge, thinking, sketching, listening. That never changed as I grew older, and in those days of puberty when you hated everyone and just wanted to get out, I went to the bridge. It calmed me down, made me think. The only thing about the bridge was that as I grew older, I only came here when I felt bad. When life simply became too much, when life wasn’t enough, when my boyfriend broke up with me, when I fell in love with someone else but he wasn’t who I thought he was, when my brother left town and changed his number, when my mother was admitted to the hospital, when I lost my job, etcetera. Slowly, the bridge became a place of sadness. The only upside to it had always been that whenever I went to the bridge, my friends would eventually figure it out. They might not know what was wrong, but they knew something was wrong, and that was enough. Often, one of them, never more than two, would show up, bringing a coffee and would sit down next to me, in silence. That was enough. But eventually my friends all left, and their pleas “you should come too, the city will be good for you” left with them. I didn’t blame them for leaving, although I sat longer on the bridge than ever on the day my best friend left. I understood why they left, and although something in me wanted to follow them, I never did. Somehow, the pain and misery that came with this small town pulled on me stronger than the excitement of starting a new life in the city, where nobody would know my name, or my family. So I stayed behind, alone. Nobody around who’d sit with me at the bridge. On days like this, I wished I’d followed them. I didn’t know the hour, but I didn’t really care. Deep down, I knew that I should leave; the rain would do nothing for me if not give me a cold. But I kept sitting on that bridge, alienated from the world. Nobody was crossing the bridge, the high way was practically empty, and the only movement on the river banks were some birds. Not even the dogs wanted to go out in this weather; let alone people. But I’d always been the odd one out. Slowly, I had stopped talking to people. It wasn’t intentional, but people left. I hadn’t seen my mother in days, and she’d taken her syringes, so she probably wasn’t coming back any time soon. My friends had been gone since forever, and none of them answered my messages. I’d even tried to call James, although neither of us ever really called anyone. He didn’t answer. I left him a message, but I knew he wouldn’t listen to it. He’d found his life it the city, and maybe it was better this way. He wouldn’t miss me if I left. It was weird to look at people. There was nobody here now, but I could easily imagine. Families sitting in a car driving over the highway, on their way to see grandparents, or perhaps going away for the weekend. One of the children would see me sitting on the edge, and they would wave at me, the way children wave at everyone. Maybe their mother would see me, and she’d look away, because people sitting on the edges of bridges were usually not happy people. And they were a happy family. On the other side, near the river, two elderly people were walking, hand in hand, happily married for over 50 years. Perhaps their health was slowly failing them, age having its influence, but they were happy to be still walking there, without a cane. They’d sit down, eat their sandwiches and drink some coffee that they brought from home, look at the children playing, and they’d talk about their youth, about how they had played at the river side, how the high way hadn’t been there yet. A young couple would take their dog for a walk, as they talked about their jobs, about how moving to a small town was the best decision yet, about how maybe they were ready to start a family, about how Joey and Charlotte were already expecting a baby, maybe they should too? But the bitter reality was that everything was deserted, and there was nobody to notice the girl sitting on the edge of the bridge. Him If my best friend had taught me anything, it was that life was often disappointing. I’d never looked at it the way she always did, but my new life had shown me that she had been right all along. She was so much more mature than I would ever be. I’d moved out of our home town optimistically, thinking that I’d find a better life in the city. I left my friend and my family behind, but I knew that I’d find new friends, and stay in contact with the people back home. Neither of that had become true. It was hard finding a job, fitting in, making friends. These people didn’t go out for drinks after work, but they went home. They all had a life for themselves, and they didn’t include other people. Life in the city was mostly lonely. I’d tried calling my old friends, who’d all left way before me, but they were busy. Had their own lives. They had tennis clubs, work meetings, yoga and book clubs. I wasn’t included in anything, and it felt like they didn’t want to include me. But I was stubborn. If they had made it here, then I could, too. I was going to make friends. I became more socially active than ever. I joined a running group in my neighbourhood, helped the children of my neighbour out with their homework, brought coffee for my co-workers until they invited me along, joined a gym and then another one. I was busy, and eventually, it worked out. But I didn’t pick up my phone. Not when my parents called to see if I’d come home for Dad’s birthday, not when she called to see if I wanted to hang out. I regretted many things when I did finally drive back home. I regretted not having checked in with my parents more often, not coming home for dinner every now and then. I regretted that maybe, I would never be able to talk to my Dad anymore. I regretted that it took my mom four calls and three messages to tell me Dad was in the hospital, and that it was urgent. That he wanted to see me. I hadn’t replied to the calls, because I was supposed to go jogging with my neighbours and I didn’t want to miss it. It seemed so unimportant now. But in hindsight, I regretted one thing more. My dad recovered, I made my apologies, and we became a close family again. In that aspect, I got a second chance. I didn’t get that chance when it came to her. She’d called me, the day that I finally drove back home. I hadn’t answered. She never called, so it was probably urgent. Important. But I didn’t answer. I listened to her voicemail, days after she left it. She talked, but I could barely hear her voice. It shouldn’t have surprised me when my eyes were pulled towards the bridge, driving back, and I saw here there, on the edge of the bridge. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised me that when my Dad was out of the woods, and I went to the bridge, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t home, and her neighbours told me that neither her mom nor her had been home in the past weeks. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I never heard from her again. I was supposed to keep her safe, should have made her stay, but she faded away.
0 Comments
Hi there! First of all, happy new year, even if I'm incredibly late with that. It took me a while to write something new, but I'm really happy with this one (even if I wrote it in like an hour). There's no real prompt for it, but I did use some inspiration from a song halfway through (it concerns the character Emily, if you know the song you'll probably know what I'm referring to, but I mostly used the name and some inspiration for her background story). Anyway, I'm writing my bachelor thesis these coming months, which either means you won't see much of me, or you'll see a whole lot of stories showing up that deal with stress, deadlines, stuff like that. We'll see. For now, enjoy this story :)
Coffee Time The café was quiet, although there was a steady stumbling in and out of customers. It was still early, and the only sounds were the coffee machine, and orders being mumbled. An espresso, a latte, just a black coffee… The tables in the café were still mostly empty; but you knew that by lunch hour, every seat would be taken. Right now, the only table that wasn’t empty was the one in the far corner. Two people sat there, fresh mint tea in front of them, although both glasses were still full. As you waited for your order, a large coffee with an extra shot of vanilla, you had an exam today, you tried to imagine what the strangers were saying, focussing on the movement of their lips. “Listen up, I need to tell you something.” “I know, you told me that already. Just get on with it; I need to tell you some stuff too, and I have other places to be after this.” “You do? I thought you said you quit your job last month?” “Yes, I did. Does not mean that I suddenly don’t need money anymore. I’m still looking around, trying to find something. If you happen to come across something, do let me know.” “Of course. Something that has little social contact, I assume?” “Don’t be a dick about it, and just get on with whatever you want to tell me.” “Hey, you started. But sure. I ran into Alice earlier this week, and you will not believe what she told me.” “Have I ever not believed you before? I was the only one who believed your story about the bridge before you found the photos.” “It’s just a figure of speech, don’t get all jumpy. Anyways, she said that she hadn’t seen Dave for a while, so she went to check up on him, and –“ “Wait, are we talking about Dave-I’m-better-than-you-Dave or Dave-does-not-care-about-anything-but-the-environment-Dave?” “The first one. Anyway, she’d sent him some texts, tried to call him, didn’t respond to anything. He hadn’t even posted on his Instagram for an entire week.” “This really isn’t the way to tell me that he died, you know.” “Shut it, he didn’t die. So Alice went to check up on him, since she was a little worried, and you will never guess what she found.” “If I could guess it, I wouldn’t be sitting here. Continue.” “That girl of his? I keep forgetting her name but you know who I mean, that chick he brought with him to Jessie’s birthday?” “The trashy one who’s got a serious alcohol problem? I thought they broke up months ago.” “Yeah, so did I. And apparently, they did, but here’s the thing; he got her pregnant.” “No. Way.” “I’m serious! Alice went over to his place, found his chick there, nursing a little baby. She asked if it was his and apparently she laughed like a maniac while saying that it was.” “Maybe she was lying?” “Yeah, that was my first thought too. Even though she was staying at his place, maybe Dave was just being nice, didn’t realize what a train wreck she was? So I asked Alice, but she said she spoke to Dave as she left, and it’s indeed his. They broke up, but about four months ago she called him, in tears, about how he got her pregnant and now she was drowning in bills and had a baby coming up.” “And of course Dave never realized that it probably wasn’t his?” “Well, she said it was,” “Yeah, but she seems like the kind of girl that would sleep with lots of guys. Who knows what she does when she’s hammered.” “Fair point. Anyway, the creepy thing is: remember that Dave changed his phone number a few months ago?” “Yeah, just like you did, because of you-know-who.” “Exactly, although Voldemort wasn’t involved. But I just wanted to leave the entire incident with that fucking creep behind, so I changed my number.” “But Dave wasn’t involved in that, right?” “He wasn’t, not really. But he showed up when I kicked him out that last time, and after I filed a restraining order on him and changed my number and everything, he found Dave’s and send him a text. Nothing serious, but with the entire history behind it, Dave and I thought it was better to be safe than sorry.” “Jesus, I can’t believe you never told me any of this! I didn’t realize it was this bad.” “I was just trying to get over it myself, at that time. Anyway, Dave changed his number, and we properly kept it secret, you know.” “Yeah, makes sense.” “But here’s the catch: how did that pregnant bimbo get his number if he changed it?” “O my god!” “I know right! She totally stalked him and he probably never even realized that.” “Didn’t Alice talk to him about that?” “She hadn’t realized, I pointed it out to her.” “I can’t believe this.” “And I haven’t even told you the best part!” “Oh god, do tell me.” “Dave told Alice, I’m literally quoting Alice here, that he’s going to try and be a great father to his son.” “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Dave here?” “Yeah, can you believe it?” “The dude never properly grew up! Last time I saw him, he was gushing about some sort of conference he went to where everyone dresses up.” “Yeah, one of those comic cons. Admittedly, my inner geek is so jealous of him, but still.” “Wow, by comparison, my news is barely news.” “Well, do tell me!” “Okay, do you remember Emily?” “The ex of Lydia? Yeah, of course I remember her! And if I ever run into her again, she’ll surely remember me too because I’ll let her know exactly what I think of her. That bitch, breaking Lydia’s heart like that.’ “Yes, exactly, that Emily. Well I really don’t want to make your wish for revenge worse, but…” “Don’t keep me waiting girl!” “She totally did it with James.” “But she works for James now… Oh. No. No way! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” “I’m totally saying what you think I’m saying.” “Oh she’s dead. She might as well start planning her funeral now, or find a very good hiding place. Does Lydia know about this? She’d be so devastated.” “No, she doesn’t, and I think we should keep it that way. I ran into her the other day as she was on her way to a date, and she looked so happy. It would totally ruin her.” “Agreed. But I can’t possibly believe this? She got that job like what, a month after she broke up with Lydia? If you can even call it a proper break-up. More like she just abandoned her out of nowhere.” “I wonder if she was already sleeping with James when she was still with Lydia.” “Probably, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Maybe she was just with Lydia to get a job, and when she realized Lydia was never going to be that kind of girl, she just left.” “I always knew that girl was shady, but I’d never imagined this…” “To be honest, we should have known. But we can’t blame ourselves for this; it’s not our responsibility.” “You have a point. I just feel so bad. I didn’t even tell you everything yet, it gets worse…” “Miss? Miss, your coffee.” You blinked with your eyes, and realized you were still standing in the café. You looked back to the barista, who was calling to you, looking almost concerned. You grabbed your wallet, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. You look like you need it; I had to call you three times. Here, good luck with those last exams. Try and get some sleep.” You smiled at the barista as he handed you your coffee. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” As you turned and walked away, the comfort of a warm coffee in your hands, you noticed that the table in the corner was empty. Maybe you should try and get some sleep. |
Archives
February 2017
About meWelcome to my blog! This is where I post my stories, occasionally accompanied by personal thoughts. I always post short stories, as I keep the longer ones for myself. My stories are often based on songs. I listen to music a lot (mostly pop punk / punk rock), and often get inspired by melodies, lyrics, or music videos. |