Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
This was my Art Mid-term; we had to make a story off of a paiting.
Mine was:
img.
that. :3
the original link didn't work, so i uploaded it to my photobucket. 8D
Enjoy!

Memories flood through my mind as I sit on the shore, sitting on a rock that’s plat-formed above the sandy ground. My legs dangle off of it, and my shoes are wet from the little waves, but I don’t care; it doesn’t bother me. Nothing really does anymore. Not the cold of the rock seeping through my clothes, chilling me to the bone, or the breeze that hits my face, freezing, and makes my cheeks and nose almost as red as my hair. It doesn’t even bother me that the rain from earlier has sat in the trees, and the droplets of water are falling down, making my hair plaster to the sides of my face.

My eyes search the shoreline for nothing particular as people ride by on their little boats. It’s like a movie in some twisted aspect. I’m sort of jealous, really, that they’re so happy. I remember the feeling vaguely, but if I felt it again, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was; it was too long ago. I can only imagine how washed-out I look. Like a statue, most likely, if any of those people in their little happy boats took the split second of time to look over at me in the indent of the shoreline on my little perch. Not that they would, of course, and they probably couldn’t see me, nor cared. My green eyes are probably dull, the light that was once there most likely displaced with the rest of everything that reminded me of him… If the tattoos beneath my eyes were makeup they would be gone, washed away with the rain and tear drops from before.

It’s not often that I cry. In fact, when he was around I never did. But that was a long time ago… when he left I cried, but I haven’t since. Since then all emotion has escaped me except for the quivering rays of acrimony that pass every now and again, like the flame of the sun that sets over the town… just like now.

We used to watch sunsets all the time. The funny thing is, though, we both prefer sunrises to sunsets, but we were too lazy to drag ourselves out of bed to get up early enough. It’s a shame, really. I sort of wish we had done that once… before he left. How could he just leave? How could he just do that? I lied to myself, repeated in my mind that he wouldn’t leave. We were too close; he wouldn’t... I knew he wouldn’t… but, clearly, I was sadly mistaken. I don’t know what I would have done if I had just accepted it, but I wouldn’t be sitting here if I did… That’s for sure.

I try not to think about it anymore as I watch the trees in the breath of wind, and I can only assume that my nose is bright crimson because every time the wind stops it gets hot. I feel it with my fingers and the cold shoots through my glove; I’m surprised my poor nose hasn’t frozen solid or fallen off yet. I look up at the trees, and I swear it’s actually raining this time, but the sky is a gradient of colors. From gray, to green, then blue, fading into yellow, orange, a streak of hot pink, and then red as the sun sets over the busy town.

I’m really warm, despite the cold. I must be immune to it now, somehow, like every thing else. My hand, for some weird instinctive reason, goes to the locket around my neck; gold and embroidered; at picture of us inside. I don’t need to open it to see it, though, because the picture is burned in my mind. Goofing around, as always; pulling each others hair, smiling, laughing… I forget what it feels like, what it sounds like, even… Is that so wrong?

Is it so wrong that I keep all of these memories with me? Is it so wrong that I don’t even know if he remembers if I exist anymore? The thought sends a shiver down my spine and my body feels heavier; I decide to try not to think anymore if I can help it, but that’s clearly not going to work with my mind-set.

The people are still out in their boats, although the sun is just about gone from the sky, only orange and pink left in the color scheme. A couple, I can see, is going back to shore after a picnic; the basket sitting in the middle of the boat as one of them eats what look like grapes, and I cringe; he didn’t like grapes very much.

I felt a sigh escape from my lips, and I leaned forward, resting my elbows just above my knees, the locket falling from my hand and dangling from my neck, suspended in mid air. I look down at it as it spins, the gold reflecting off of the last beams of light coming through the trees.

My shoes are soaked, but my feet aren’t wet; apparently leather boots really do do the trick when you submerge your feet in water unexpectedly. I move back on the rock, and move my feet up to the tiny ledge just above where they were before; a kind of foot-rest for the time being, until I decide to leave. I still don’t even know why I came here; we had found it one day, this place, and never came back to it. There are no real memories here, now that I think about it. That’s probably why I came, though somehow all I’ve managed to do since I’ve gotten here is think of him.

Him and his blonde hair that, no matter how hard I tried, could not figure out how he got it to stay the way it did... Him with his sapphire eyes that matched the sky on a perfect summer day at the beach, which crinkled ever-so-slightly when he smiled that oh-so-gorgeous smile... Him with his almost unhealthy obsession with checkerboard patterns. It didn’t seem right; the way I was acting. I shouldn’t be this way. He was nobody; a nobody who was my best friend… a best friend who left without even saying goodbye, not realizing how the scenery played out like a movie…

I clutch the locket again, my knuckles probably white under my glove. I let out a shaky breath, and the vapor rises into the air; it’s getting colder, I guess. I close my eyes for a moment, then put the locket in-between my jacket and shirt before I lean back on my hands and watch the sky turn to night, gray, purple and blue coming from behind me and whispering over the town.

LOL. Axel is so emo. D:
Oh, and there were some inside jokes in there,
so if you're like, "WTF?!" that's why. ;