Fiction logo

She So Wishes It Didn't

by Alice VL

By Author Alice VLPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
Like

The world still turns. The seasons still come, and the seasons still go. Autumn changes the color of the leaves, and with winter comes the cold and the snow. In spring, the world cheers at the sight of blossoming flowers and new beginnings. And then in summer, laughter fills and lingers in the air. The world still turns.

The roads are still filled with the sounds of cars making their way down the streets, and the voices of people on city pavements still echo in the distance. Children are still born each day. Lovers fall in love, and lovers fall out of love, every single day. Death comes for those whose time is up, and the world still turns.

Mornings still come with each new sunrise, while the darkness covers the universe with each sunset. The world awakes, the world goes to sleep. Plans for a new home, a summer holiday, a wintery escape or a reunion with loved ones are still made. Thanksgiving plans still go ahead, and Christmas is still the happiest time of the year. When the dawn of the new year breaks, she watches how those around her catch their second breath as they joyfully embark on brand-new journeys, changes and brand-new dreams. The world still turns.

But hers doesn’t. Her world stood still a long time ago, and it no longer turns. She no longer sees the seasons come and go. To her crushed heart, she is stuck in a long, cold winter. Her days may be shorter, but her nights are the longest. It’s when she can barely breathe. It’s when she hears her name being called out over and over again. It’s when she sits up at night, and glares at her hand. She can still feel his in hers. Nothing has changed in the days, weeks, months and years since his leaving. Her world stood still. It has kept her trapped in a kind of a limbo she can’t get out of. One, she just can’t escape from. Everything around her changes, yet nothing is different. Her world stood still. Her life has been shaken, and her heart is shattered. But, for the rest, there is not even a slight indication from the universe that something has changed, something so important to someone so much lesser, has been lost.

There is nothing to tell her that his leaving has somehow impacted the world, shoved it off-course or shook it slightly off its track. Like it did her. Like it shoved her to the ground and kept her there, some days overwhelmed by an excruciating heartache that becomes physical. It cripples her. It debilitates her. There is nothing to tell her that he was crucial to this world, to this life and to her heart.

Yet, while the world forgets him, she searches for him at the break of each day, and at the last light of each night. She hunts him between the walls of the home he once lived in. She traces the footprints of a life he once existed so profoundly in. She follows the trails he once took on the city streets, and she continues all the way down to the dirt roads he once found solace in. She retraces the paths he took to the beach, and she follows his tracks to the forest. She searches for him.

She keeps looking for him. She still hunts him in her world. She tries to find him in crowds on busy and bustling streets. She sits on empty beaches, waiting for him to come up from behind her, and tell her that she was stuck in nothing more than a nightmare. She watches each footprint, listens for each voice, and gazes into many eyes. She hunts for proof that he was once real. She clings to photographs, and she holds on to the memory of him. She does not want the world to forget. She doesn’t want to forget.

And still, the world turns without him. The laughter in the distance hasn’t changed. Love songs drowning out the sounds of busy streets, hasn’t changed. Lovers meeting and dancing at night, hasn’t changed. Strangers brushing past her without noticing her pain, hasn’t changed. Her tears are still hidden behind a convincing smile. She still hears his voice even though he has been quiet for years. She still follows his scent, even though it never is him. She still hears him whisper her name when the wind blows on dark and cloudy nights. She still sees his shadow when she feels him close to her. Nothing has changed, and it reminds her that the world still turns. She so wishes it didn’t.

Short Story
Like

About the Creator

Author Alice VL

Alice VL, born on the 1st May 1970 as Alice Johnstone, is a South African writer who was raised in Saldanha Bay, a quaint village off the West Coast of Southern Africa.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.