\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1792524-My-Dearest-Friend
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1792524
a short story about fate and love. i would love some feedback
At first, there is nothing just the reverberations of the loud bang on the stone walls around us. I feel a cold begin to creep down my chest as I stare at the man, I look into his eyes and I see…fear, deep dark and unabashed fear. The alley is dark now, temporarily light by the bright flash that revealed all its filth and ugliness it is now returned to its ominous shadow leading to the unknown. The cold is sinking lower and time is passing so slowly it might as well have stopped. I look down at my chest and see my shirt, once white, is now being consumed by a deep ruby red. I cannot feel anything but the cold; that wonderful self defense mechanism shock is working perfectly. As my head raises back up I see the man is finally moving, backing away, that same look of absolute fear is all over his face, spreading like the blood down my shirt. Someone is screaming, I cannot make out the words but it sounds like no. I have always thought it funny how no matter what language someone speaks you can always tell they are saying no. I suddenly realize I am falling backwards; the sky is quickly becoming my only view. I feel something finally, a pair of hands at my back slowing my fall and bringing me gently to the hard concrete. The walls of the alley are brick and are so tarnished and blackened they almost look burned, the fire escapes look like cruel jokes along the windows where no one has bothered to look at what made that awful bang. Sensations begin rushing into my body and mind, the first and most shocking of these is pain, searing, burning and blinding pain. My chest is on fire and the blood now feels hot on my skin. And then I see something in front of the sky, my friend, my dearest friend in all the world. Their face has fear like the man who shot me, but theirs is different, theirs is mixed with anguish and a frantic energy. I smile at them through the pain, and reach up to touch the face that has kept me happy for many years. I know now that I am dying, it’s not anything like what I thought it would be, the pain is obvious but not all consuming. My mind is working at a thousand times its normal speed, almost like its trying to live fifty years in five minutes. I try so hard to remember things I thought were important but all I can recall are happy memories with my friend. Going to the beach and lounging in the sun as we laugh and share a beer, watching a movie in a quiet theatre and sharing a bag of popcorn that is way too salty. I never thought smiling would be possible on a death bed, let alone on a concrete alley floor. The words are coming through, “Just hold on! Help is coming. Someone help us!” I don’t want them to yell, I don’t want my friend to be so upset. I feel like I’m falling again but I know there is nowhere for me to fall. I raise my hand to stop my friend’s terrified pleas. My hand has blood on it and I touch their face with as much care as I can muster in my weakened limb. I don’t remember ever feeling so tired, so unbelievably exhausted. My dear friend is staring down at me and weeping and holding my hand to their face. I tell them not to cry, not to scream, that I am ok. I realize that is the last lie I will ever tell and I am strangely comforted by the thought. My hand is slipping and falling of its own accord, the weight is too much to support, it hangs limp in their grasp. I tell them I love them, and that I am glad they are not hurt. My eyes are starting to go dark and the cold rushed back to my body in a horrendous wave that makes me shiver uncontrollably. I have always wondered what my last words might be and have never been able to come to a conclusion as to what they would be until this moment. I hear sirens from far away and I look up to the windows to see only black shades drawn tightly, like so many hearts they are closed and no is looking. I tell my friend to hold me, tell them I’m cold. And as the last light fades from my eyes I whisper into my dearest friends ear the last words I will ever speak, “I love you my friend…and I would not trade our time for the world.” My sight is gone, my body feels nothing but cold and my limbs are numb and useless. But as I slip into my eternal sleep my ears hear ever so faintly, “I love you too, so much my friend.”
© Copyright 2011 poemebbe (mebbe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1792524-My-Dearest-Friend