September 10, 2012

Gosh, I really need to start organizing everything.

This is just a compilation of all the short, short stories that I write to get back into the hang of things, or as an attempt to improve my writing style, so it'd be great to get prompts, ideas, or input from you!


Almost

Prompt: Voice.

"Look at all this, Arthur!" He waves his arms out in his trademark animated gesture and looks back at me with soft eyes behind those glasses.

I smile as I walk up to him, the chill of wet grass a wonderful contrast to the already-hot air of eight in the morning. The sun is still rising, the bright yellow glow glimmering off the forming beads of sweat on Alfred's neck. He pretends nothing is there, but there is no way that is comfortable.

"The wind's blowing hard, today, man! Come here," he says as he pats the ground beside him, where he is leaning against the oak tree.

I send him a glare. He laughs as I trudge over to him, his arm held out in wait to wrap around my shoulders. I can't argue that I didn't like it when he pressed a kiss onto my forehead, and I stop myself from asking him another time just why he does all this for someone like me.

He pulls his arm away, and it hurts. It hurts to know.

"The leaves, all those leaves up there, you see? They're happy. Just like I am right now. The wind blowing between them lets them tell us just how beautiful this world is. Just how beautiful you are."

He takes my hand and kisses it, before squeezing to let it go. My fingers twitch, forcing me to ball them into a tight fist.

"And that lake over there? The water is telling us to take it slow, to enjoy what we have now. It will always be there, and whenever it's too hot, we can always jump in there and laugh and that is music. But more than music, I just like to see you smile."

I reach for his hand and weave our fingers together. He watches each motion, and I am only starting to accept the reason behind that smile.

And for the first time, I can almost hear what Alfred describes to me.