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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1819594
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1819594
This piece is one that I quite enjoyed writing, I hope you like it.
When the Sun Shall Leave

         

         The air is warm and clings to my skin, anxiety hangs in the air around. I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell me that everything will be fine; even if it is a lie, I still have no one to tell me. I only have the empty, dead meadow with exception to the few sulking trees scattered here and there.

         As I stand with my palms reaching down to stroke the thigh high yellow grass, I wait, and listen. I hear my name being called in the far distance. I slowly turn in a circle. The long pleading grass and the scarce feeble trees are all that I can see for miles around. What I thought was my name being called was really the sound that hope makes when there is hardly any left. My eyes drop as the sun is descending, but stop on the horizon where the sun has also stopped. I wait for him to leave me, to continue on his journey, yet he does not move. It becomes clear after a while that the keeper of time has dropped the clock and the sun and moon have halted, all at once.

         My fingers skitter through the blemished grass and it does not move back into place once my fingers leave its surface. Before, when time could be gone in a single breath my feet couldn’t move forward, but now as time ceases my feet are released from their confinement.

         I walk taking each step with caution, not willing to look back, fearing time will capture me once again. My eyes are focused on nothing ahead, but I wonder what is in store. In front, on the horizon, the sun stays in place, still frozen. The sky grows dark without clouds, without the dimming or setting of the sun. My surroundings fade to a pale gray and I the same. My pace quickens, but there is no escape. What I see, seems to stretch on forever.

         I eventually grow weary of my pace and steady out to a calm simple walk. My feet become weak and achy, my knees hurt and threaten to give out. They feel as though an invisible band has been wrapped around them and now they are being pulled downward towards the moist earth. I try not to give in to their taunting ways.  After a while, I cannot be strong and I fall. My knees press into the soggy earth, mud stains my uncolored dress. I fall to my palms and stare at the unappealing soil beneath me. I shut my eyes tight to prevent tears from spilling out, not wanting it, the soil least of all to see me weak. The soil shows no weakness to me, so why should I show it mine?

         However, I am not strong like the earth and my eyes overflow with water. My eyes do not open but a steady stream of tears engulfs a small spot of soil.

         After my hushed sobs calm down, my eyes flutter open and there in the midst of the puddle is a small blue flower; a forget me not. The fragile little thing seems to call out, “I’m still here, and as is my name, forget me not.”

         I whisper back to it, “and I the same as you”, my fingers gently pull the little angelic thing from the earth and stick it in the front of my ribbon tied around my waist. I haul myself from my sunken spot and carry on.

          The sun hasn’t moved, and my perilous descent through the ghastly, colorless field continues. Looking ahead I stare at the sun mesmerized, in love, and slightly surprised that it does not burn, nor blind my vulnerable eyes. Though, who can love the sun? When he is so far out of reach and an enemy, yet a blessed gift to man? He burns and blinds us, and yet he gives us light and warmth, so we love him.

          In this uncolored world the hours drag on. I find myself uncertain of where I am. I turn back to see how far I’ve come; not fearing the confinement of time. Just as the grass did not move when my fingers danced upon the tops of it, the grass still continues that pattern. The path I’ve walked is long and stretches into the far distance. I close my eyes and wonder how much further I’ll have to go. My feet turn slowly back toward the sun. I walk but a few paces with them still shut. Then I realize how jagged my path has become as I stumble, I let them fly back open and they greet the gleaming pale sun. Despite my efforts, I am regarded as nothing.  I drop my gaze, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

         Why does he stay, sitting upon the hills and for whom, I wonder. Perhaps, he is the same. Pleading for someone to notice, and is he the one who whispers the words, “I am still here,” for I hear them faintly.

         Well, so am I, am still here.  Though I am no orb of light that floats above for all to see; I wish I could be. For then, all would know, I am still here. Pardon me not for foolish fantasies, but it is the truth, that I so dream.

         My head and eyes lift up but not to the sun, in view and not far off I see a cottage. It appears out of nowhere, like magic. Though it may be small and insignificant, it is mine. I cannot stop from running fast. It’s there and so close. Suddenly, all at once, the world is plunged into darkness. My steps halt and my eyes widen, searching for him, who left without warning. As my heart is sinking and all hope depleting, there he is, once again resting on the hills. My breath finds me once more, and relief soothes my soul. He lights up the surroundings, which again thrive in color.  I hesitate only for a moment to move, but I quickly find my courage.

         Once I make it home I find my sister and mother standing outside staring at him, the sun. I join them. They do not move or acknowledge my presence, we just stare. The sun appears to be getting smaller and dimmer, but he does not seem to be setting. As I ponder on this strange thought, I look to my sister, her eyes gleam and her smile cannot be kept secret. I am confused and do not understand her strange excitement. I look back to the sun and see a distant glowing out lined shape of a man. My heart stops and I wonder if he is truly the great orb of light. But if so why would he ever have the desire to leave his pedestal in the sky to come to a world so full of disease?

         As he comes closer; on mortal soil, his light weakens. Once he reaches us his light is lessened but not completely out. I stare at his beaming stoic face in wonder and awe. His shining golden hair, and matching eyes are so warm and calming, I feel as though I’m not alive. Rather, I feel free and without pain. He stands not two feet away.  I look around for a mere moment and notice he is the only light source in this insipid world to be seen. I look back at him, his hand is out stretched before us.  I stare into his vibrant eyes, they’re focused on nothing. I step forward and reach for his hand. He pulls back and I freeze, once again feeling ashamed and embarrassed. I let my hand drop and my eyes stare into his. He looks into mine, then quickly he looks away and focuses on something else. I follow his gaze straight to my sister. He reaches out again. I do not move, but she does. She goes for his hand, he does not pull away. I step back and watch with the sound of hope mocking me in the background. Their hands join and his dim light increases as it welcomes her. Without a word they turn and walk to where the horizon would be. Betrayal and rejection cut deep into my soul. I turn towards my mother for a word of comfort, but she is gone and so is the cottage, neither are to be seen.

         I let my pain filled eyes watch my sister and the sun walk away. “I’m still here,” I call out, but my words are echoed back to me, but three words are added, "forget me not." Then I remember the flower tucked away in my ribbon. I gently pull it out and through the descending dim light I watch its color slowly fade away.

         “You asked me to forget you not,” I whisper to the flower, “yet, somehow I did.”

© Copyright 2011 Silent Writer (airenee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1819594