Prompt: the song Remembering Sunday by All Time Low
He refused to believe the news. He ignored the pitied looks everyone in the room suddenly gave him, he ignored the shouts after him, he ignored the whispered “Leave him be, he needs some time. God, I would need some time after news like that”, and thus he left everyone behind, running from the ugly words, running from the truth. It couldn’t be true. She’d just lost track of time or something, lost her car keys, or her phone, or her phone had died and she was lost, those things happened! In real life, and too her even more, because she was his clumsy girl. Even more reason to start looking for her, instead of standing here. He hadn’t realized that what started as a real search, as he strodded her favourite parts of the forests with a flash light taped to his forehead, would eventually end up in a pub, as he drank heavily. He couldn’t find her, hadn’t been able to for the past ten days, and the only reason he still knew how many days it had been was by the receipts the bartender gave him. He never looked him in the eye for he would see the same pitied look he’d run from, and that pitied look reminded him of the reason he’d run from that room. He hadn’t been running from the truth, as he heard the bartender whispered at some point. He’d just been running to save her, and he was failing. But he left after those words, slurring a goodbye, grabbing the bar to keep standing. He stumbled through the dark streets, not really caring about the trail he was leaving, the trail of empty cans, crumpled paper, and bitter tears. At some point, he ended up in the small cemetery. It wasn’t big; the village wasn’t big either. He knew most of the names carved into the stones, but for an inexplicable reason, he found himself reading every one. He realized that he had been running from the truth when his eyes found her name, carved into the stone, and suddenly, he wasn’t drunk anymore.
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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. |