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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/964496-my-short-story
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest · #964496
i just want to try to make a short story....
ANGEL WITHOUT WINGS

We’re laughing. Running on the field. There’s no sadness, there’s no tears, only balloons with smiles, pearls and mommy’s cookies fragrance inside. I feel like walking through the rainbow. His name is Jason. First time I met him when he and his family were moved on the house in front of mine.

When I was playing alone in my back yard, he came to me and smiled. He said, “Hi, I am Jason, what’s your name?”
“My name is Pierre.” I replied.
He smiled again and said, “Well Pierre, would you like to be my friend?”
And… we became a friend.

Our days filled by joy. We’ve always be together, everywhere. Sometime, we even slept in the same bed. We always shared about everything…. our secret, our story, our stuff. I am bad in society. I don’t have many friends. In fact, Jason is my first close friend.

When I was seventeen, I realized something, He has everything I want from a friend. If I made a mistake, he never blame me for what I’ve done. He just sat beside me and said, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine, soon.” Or “Hey Pierre….Whatever things happened to you, don’t forget to smile. Cause you’re like an angel when you smile. Beside, it’s good for your health.”
And when I asked him, “ Why you never blame me of mistaken that I’ve done?” This is his answer, “Ah…Pierre…, everybody can make a mistake. The best thing you can do is go further and never do the same mistake or something similar with it. Pierre….don’t you realize something? Happiness, sadness, everything happened to your life including mistakes are the experience. Be positive Pierre…. They can make you grown up and wiser.”
I looked at him and asked him, “Why are you so kind Jason…??”
He just smiled, “Because you’re my friend Pierre. It’s not kindness, it’s a trust. Pierre….for friend, trust is a must.”

When we were twenty five, he decided to go abroad. Being a war journalist, he traveled around the world visited conflict area and do his work as a war journalist. Me? I decided to work in my own country, be a banker and married with a lovely woman. When I seen him off to the airport, he saw me so worried about his safety. He just laughed and taping my shoulder, “Pierre, Pierre…..don’t worry….i will go home soon. Enjoy your peaceful life here. I will often send you a mail….let me be your wings Pierre… Let me be your wings so you can see the world…” And I never saw him again except his mails which often came.

I am thirty years old now. Today, I am waiting his arrival. My heart won’t stop beating, not because I will to see him again after this years passed. It’s all because I know what will come is just his stuffs and the coffin with him inside. Four days ago I received a notification that the hotel where Jason stayed was bombed by the enemy, and Jason is the one of the victims. He died on the way to the hospital.

There it is. The coffin is coming. I never cry before, and now… I can feel tears on my eyes. He ever told me years ago, “Pierre… I never see you cry, but I promise you, I am the one who will make you cry.” And he did. Between my tears and my reality, I can see he walks on the rainbow, still with his smile and says, “Come on Pierre, smile for me. You are like angel when you smile.”
Then I smile. Yeah, I am an angel, angel without wings.

© Copyright 2005 Sei Max (say_ann at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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