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    dots Submission Name: the truth about the night I died.dots

    Author: Madelaine
    ASL Info:    18/F/USA
    Elite Ratio:    4.58 - 52/16/7
    Words: 456
    Class/Type: Story/What you did
    Total Views: 910
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2875

       For you. No one else really knows what happened between us that night. Just a reminder of what could have been.
    Sorry to say, I still can't tell you.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsthe truth about the night I died.dots

    Grey smoke danced through the heavy green haze. I'm falling into a misty jade abyss. Soft sable fringes surround the smokey emeralds.

         "Tell me,"his voice a sleep blurred whisper.
         "I can't," I tell him, but he won't listen. He marches on with synthetic strength, pushing until I break. The words spill forth with a quiet fear threaded into them. He looked at me then, truly looked, and hated what he saw (the truth).
         His voice broke on a desperate sob, and the rage pushed its way to the surface. He turned away, screaming, pleading, but never once looking at me.
         Always in a storm there is a calm before the worst of it hits.
         Soft, furtive whispers volley back and forth, occasionally punctuated by a sigh or a sob. And then the calm passes.
         He's standing over me, screaming before I even know what happened. I saw the flash of silver, but was too slow in following. It was my turn to cry and plead, but to little avail.
         By the time I finally broke through blood was pooling and coating everything we touched. He came to me, tried to hold me, but I couldn't hold him back. All I could hear were his screams, echoing, mixing with the sobs and sharp hitches of breath.
         Deep, bone chilling fear slid through me right alongside the cold. I couldn't feel my fingers but I knew he held them, squeezed them until they had turned a soft purple. He layed me down gently, more kind in that one act than he had been in two years.
         I tried to call his name but shock froze my tongue as I watched him lift the blade to his own wrists. I couldn't hear it if he screamed his own pain, but I watched his blood pool into mine until I couldn't tell whose was which.
         It got dark too soon, and so I can't be sure that it was him that laid beside me and held me those last few minutes, but I like to think it was.
         I still watch him sometimes, and try to help him when I can. He spends his days watchin tv and talking about why it happened. They are talking about letting him out next year. I think I just might have to nudge it the other way. We aren't supposed to intervene, but there are always special cases.
         Each night when he lays down to sleep I lay beside him and trace his scars, and hold him as his world goes dark. If you want to know the truth about the night I died, I've given you all I could. And all because I couldn't tell him. I still can't.

    Submitted on 2008-05-05 12:51:18     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I love it.
    | Posted on 2008-06-15 00:00:00 | by hateyourlove | [ Reply to This ]
      A very finely honed piece of prose, lethal and dark as can be. Excellent! bravo... bravo.. bravo...
    | Posted on 2008-05-06 00:00:00 | by Algol46 | [ Reply to This ]

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