ReganFinch
New Member
Hello all. I just made some revisions to this short story and I would love to hear what you all think about it! It isn't the happiest of prose but I hope you like it! Make sure and let me know of anything that might make it better. Thanks again.
RF
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The Immaculate Beauties of Love and Death
An old leather bound journal from '97 lays opened on the floor. It is surrounded by a caravan of half-completed novels, books concerning depression and its subtle cures, used tissue, and other objects hidden in the darkness of this dim apartment.
He has paced this cluttered floor for hours, finally settling on the bedside. As an old forgotten pendulum, he sways back and forth with his face buried in his hands.
The opened journal is positioned to an entry dated December 5th.
"December 5th 1997-
I walked around the freezing park today. I don't think I have ever shivered that much before!
Anna and I were supposed to meet at the gazebo at one o'clock for our walk to the cafe. Of course, she was fifteen minutes late. When she did arrive, she apologized and blamed the late arrival on a phone call from her mother. I forgave her like I always did.
Because of the terrible chill, we almost ran through the rest of the park. Thankfully the cafe was right outside the entrance, so at least we wouldn't get too frostbitten.
As we slowed down to a walk, she asked me if she could borrow Dune, which I had told her about the day before. I looked at her with a smile and said "of course. I'm always here to give you your sci-fi fix." She laughed. "And if you ever need anything else, I'm here." "I know Andrew." She took my hand and stared at the ground in what I knew was silent contemplation.
We reached the cafe. I was about to open the door for her, as any gentleman should, when she stopped me. She looked me in the eyes and uttered the beautiful words, "I love you Andrew." A smile started to show on her face that could never be captured with paint, stone, or word. It was the very entrapment of beauty itself. It was immaculate.
After I expressed the love I had for her, we went into to that old, warm, brick building that we had called "ours" or "that old coffee joint that we love to gossip in". The hours went by as we covered a variety of topics. She told me of summers spent traveling across the Southwest, of nights spent playing Monopoly, and of movies she regarded as classics. She was a warm, eclectic, and beautiful woman who made my heart flutter constantly. She was immaculate."
He has stood up from his comfort-laden prison. His eyes are bloodshot and teary. He picks up the journal and all of the rest of the littered objects and throws them in the nearest trash bin. On top of the collection is a single letter with a single attachment.
"August 28th 1998-
Andrew,
I have got all of the messages you sent me, but I just need them to stop. Andrew, it's been three months and I have moved on, please do the same"
Taped to the letter was the key to his apartment that he had given her 4 months ago.
Andrew was sitting back on the bed again. He was picturing his mother tell him, "it's going to be alright". He pictured his brother Dave telling him joke after joke. But with everyone that he pictured or even imagined, he found fault.
His mother was wrong. His brother was wrong. They were wrong.
The trigger on the gun was very hard for him to pull, but as with anything, he gave it his all. In the split-second before the bullet entered his right temple, he made a promise to love her always.
The blood spread throughout the entire room except for a small shelf in his bookcase. It held the stimulus - a cut-out wedding announcement from today's paper.
"December 5th 1998 - Nathan and Kathleen Madson of Riversdale and Joseph and Janet Firth of Georgetown have announced the engagement of their children, Anne Madson and Jonathon Firth". The picture showed a woman Andrew had known. He had known her smile.
The announcement rested on his journal from '98. It was opened to today's date. The ink was quickly drying.
"December 5th 1998-
Some skin is made too thin to defy the laws and pain of this world. Where joy is meant to frolic, there is deception and utter failure. Where love is made to bloom, there is that eventual matter-of-fact situation where you are crushed under your own weight. My skin is that thin. My joy is gone. My love has been all but smothered.
I love and have only loved once. If I can not have that love, then I will rest. I will die before the final memories I have of her rot away; before her smile becomes every other woman's."
Andrew's face was one cased in final comforts. It was beauty encapsulated. It was immaculate.
RF
=========================================
The Immaculate Beauties of Love and Death
An old leather bound journal from '97 lays opened on the floor. It is surrounded by a caravan of half-completed novels, books concerning depression and its subtle cures, used tissue, and other objects hidden in the darkness of this dim apartment.
He has paced this cluttered floor for hours, finally settling on the bedside. As an old forgotten pendulum, he sways back and forth with his face buried in his hands.
The opened journal is positioned to an entry dated December 5th.
"December 5th 1997-
I walked around the freezing park today. I don't think I have ever shivered that much before!
Anna and I were supposed to meet at the gazebo at one o'clock for our walk to the cafe. Of course, she was fifteen minutes late. When she did arrive, she apologized and blamed the late arrival on a phone call from her mother. I forgave her like I always did.
Because of the terrible chill, we almost ran through the rest of the park. Thankfully the cafe was right outside the entrance, so at least we wouldn't get too frostbitten.
As we slowed down to a walk, she asked me if she could borrow Dune, which I had told her about the day before. I looked at her with a smile and said "of course. I'm always here to give you your sci-fi fix." She laughed. "And if you ever need anything else, I'm here." "I know Andrew." She took my hand and stared at the ground in what I knew was silent contemplation.
We reached the cafe. I was about to open the door for her, as any gentleman should, when she stopped me. She looked me in the eyes and uttered the beautiful words, "I love you Andrew." A smile started to show on her face that could never be captured with paint, stone, or word. It was the very entrapment of beauty itself. It was immaculate.
After I expressed the love I had for her, we went into to that old, warm, brick building that we had called "ours" or "that old coffee joint that we love to gossip in". The hours went by as we covered a variety of topics. She told me of summers spent traveling across the Southwest, of nights spent playing Monopoly, and of movies she regarded as classics. She was a warm, eclectic, and beautiful woman who made my heart flutter constantly. She was immaculate."
He has stood up from his comfort-laden prison. His eyes are bloodshot and teary. He picks up the journal and all of the rest of the littered objects and throws them in the nearest trash bin. On top of the collection is a single letter with a single attachment.
"August 28th 1998-
Andrew,
I have got all of the messages you sent me, but I just need them to stop. Andrew, it's been three months and I have moved on, please do the same"
Taped to the letter was the key to his apartment that he had given her 4 months ago.
Andrew was sitting back on the bed again. He was picturing his mother tell him, "it's going to be alright". He pictured his brother Dave telling him joke after joke. But with everyone that he pictured or even imagined, he found fault.
His mother was wrong. His brother was wrong. They were wrong.
The trigger on the gun was very hard for him to pull, but as with anything, he gave it his all. In the split-second before the bullet entered his right temple, he made a promise to love her always.
The blood spread throughout the entire room except for a small shelf in his bookcase. It held the stimulus - a cut-out wedding announcement from today's paper.
"December 5th 1998 - Nathan and Kathleen Madson of Riversdale and Joseph and Janet Firth of Georgetown have announced the engagement of their children, Anne Madson and Jonathon Firth". The picture showed a woman Andrew had known. He had known her smile.
The announcement rested on his journal from '98. It was opened to today's date. The ink was quickly drying.
"December 5th 1998-
Some skin is made too thin to defy the laws and pain of this world. Where joy is meant to frolic, there is deception and utter failure. Where love is made to bloom, there is that eventual matter-of-fact situation where you are crushed under your own weight. My skin is that thin. My joy is gone. My love has been all but smothered.
I love and have only loved once. If I can not have that love, then I will rest. I will die before the final memories I have of her rot away; before her smile becomes every other woman's."
Andrew's face was one cased in final comforts. It was beauty encapsulated. It was immaculate.