Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Why I Wish

I lay on the couch. Alone, but I wish I wasn't. All I do is wish. All he does is do. He never thinks, in all of my wishing I've thought all my dreams to the end. I wish that he would swoop me into his arms right now. I wish that he would come from standing in front of that window.

I wish that he would turn around. His brown hair and green eyes would sparkle... no not hair, hair doesn't sparkle. So then his green eyes would just sparkle, and cut through me and my pain. Every hurt in my body and heart would dissipate and it would leave a pretty dust behind that he would walk through towards me. He would pick me up and hug me. He would kiss me and hug me more. And then he would spin me around, turn on some music, and in a split second we would be waltzing up and down the halls. Dancing? Why dancing? I don't know we just are... I should learn to expect these suddenly happy moments with him, he makes them out of the blue. Now he's picking me up, and we're going outside. I try to protest, it's freezing and I'm only in a t-shirt and polka dot pajama pants, but he just holds me closer and says that together we'll be fine. And then we...

"Look... I'm sorry." His beautiful voice, an ice cold dagger, twists through my wish. Wishes never come true without him.

He turns towards me, his eyes red and crying. I wish... no more wishing. He just stares at me, and walks out the door. I'm not in his arms, but I turn the music on. The music twists and turns around me, it comforts me, it whisks him out of the door. It picks me up, it grabs my arms, and I don't know who it is but I'm dancing with his shadow. And I'm happy.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site