Die Writing

The slow goodbye

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on May 26, 2012

She was slipping away. His hand on traced out the parts of her it would never touch again. The fingers slipped over the slightly moist skin, feeling the bumps of her spine, the shape of the shoulder blade, and the tiny birthmark. They reached the fold of the fabric at the edge her dress. He felt every thread, every stitch, the clasp of her bra under the gossamer silk.

She was moving away so slowly, that for brief moments he could convince himself that she wasn’t moving away at all, that she would stay right here forever, not quite his, but not quite gone, either.

He was hoping to linger somewhere along her arm – perhaps catch her shoulder or her elbow – but finding a pause proved impossible. He dreaded the inevitable moment when he would reach her finger tips, dreaded it so much he almost missed it. The moment cut him like a surgeon’s knife.

She was already growing dark, swallowed by the tide of time. He couldn’t breathe.

The spirit

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on May 14, 2012

He stood outside the bar on the wet street. The unique bar fragrance of booze, tobacco, and sweat was slowly draining off his clothes. Hands stuck deep in the pockets, and shoulders drawn up in the cold air, he stood and stared down the street. The cobble stones meandered between aged colonials and dim street lights, dissolving in the shadows just a few blocks away. His eyes were fixed on the fuzzy darkness.

She followed him a few minutes later. The drunk air and the buzz of the music clung to her. She carried it along. She clasped his hand, he barely reacted, and she tried to follow his gaze. It was merely an empty and crooked street.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

“I came here looking for the spirit of this city,” he said, surprising himself with the revelation. He thought that in jest before, but now it seemed completely serious. “This whole time, I knew it was here somewhere, some place in this city. But now I can see it, just a block away.”

He paused. This sounded insane, but he also knew that it wasn’t. He could not really decide whether he was speaking in metaphors or not, but it also seemed irrelevant, like this wasn’t the sort of thing that could be neatly divided into “real” and “not-real” categories.

“I want to go to it, but I know it will just move on the moment I take a step. I could keep wandering these streets all night,” he felt, knew even, that if he did chase the spirit, the night would never end. “But it would just turn into more alleys, slip through more arches and shadows until I find some terrible end of my own. And I still would be no closer to it than I am now.”

Lonely in a crowd

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on May 5, 2012

In a sudden moment, she found herself sitting alone while everyone else was up and dancing. The density of the crowd reinforced her sense of loneliness, as if a dark spotlight was cast upon her. Her connection to others, her very presence seemed to falter and flicker like a candle’s flame.

The heartbreak swelled up in her in an instant, came back with biting tears and choked her breath. She had been trying to drown out the sorrow with the music and the voices of her friends, tried to leave it at the bottom of a glass, but there was no use. The sorrow stayed until it was ready to leave on its own time. For now, it stayed right here. The sorrow sat down next to her and gently held her hand, stroked her hair as she sobbed. Sunk in the circle of shadows, she seemed a mile away from the people who were mere inches from her.