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A Submission for the Tall Tails Challenge

By T. J. DaveyPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 4 min read
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Photo by Austrian National Library on Unsplash

T minus 120 days to launch.

My Dearest Susan, though we have never spoken, I am filled with a deep and abiding love for you. These last few months have sprung forth new growth into a once withering heart. Your grace, gentle manner, and quiet strength have captured me in a way that I cannot fully express.

I know that our stations in life place an insurmountable barrier between us. You must think of me as nothing more than a foolish romantic. But I assure you, my feelings are genuine and grow with each passing sunrise.

T minus 60 days.

What an exhilarating morning it has been! Such a sight to see the streets bedecked with throngs of flags and finery. This Kennedy fellow certainly epitomized the very essence of genteel behaviour. I was delighted by the occasion. Most notably due to the gleam of pleasure that shone in your eyes.

The day only soured by your oaf of a master. This Randy nincompoop demeans you while currying favour with his superiors. He does not deserve the esteem you bestow on him.

As our mission draws nigh, so does the fervour increase. Gladly this brings into sharp relief the importance of our toil. Alas, it also brings a bitter heart. As it reminds me that our time together shall soon and very abruptly end.

You are already the brightest star in my sky; I have not the slightest inclination to explore any others. Yet my duty obliges me to voyage into the heavens.

T minus 15 days.

Verily, the manner in which that buffoon treats you is intolerable. Were I able to converse in your tongue, I would assuredly give him a sound thrashing. He is a boorish fellow who exhibits no deference.

Yet, were I capable of speech, would I concern myself with him? No, I would lavish thee with praise. Expressing my gratitude for the kindness you bestow upon such a lowly creature as myself. Brushing my hair, picking my nits.

I would reveal the inner conflict that plagues me. The pride I feel when you admire my improvements playing a game of your flashing buttons. While also yearning for our time to never cease.

I would also pronounce: if a humble chimpanzee, such as myself, can set forth into the celestial sphere, then surely I can acquire the ability to speak. Or perish in the effort.

T minus 3 days.

I must humbly apologize for my impudence. I am deeply distraught by the disappointment etched upon your face. I understand that my actions towards Randy were unbecoming. His interruption at our point of near breakthrough bestowed a fever that ravaged my entire being. That said, no man deserves faecal matter thrown at his person.

I find myself back in the starting blocks. But I shall not give up hope. I will make amends and shall persist in my attempts to reach you.

T minus 5 days.

Triumph! Albeit with some reservation. There is a distance still to travel but our efforts have borne fruit; I am elated by our newfound intimacy. If only we had more time, I am confident that I could unravel the secrets of your verbiage and end this foolishness.

T minus 2 days.

I now grasp that no matter how close I sense our relationship to be, the chasm between our species is too vast for a humble chimp such as myself. The failure of yesterday cements our fate. Our hours tomorrow will be our last.

I am resigned to this fact. But I am not saddened by it. As although the rocket tomorrow is the means by which we are torn apart. It has also brought meaning to my life; filling it with memories of you.

T minus 10 minutes

Dressed in my finest attire, I wrap myself around your bosom. You carry me to my celestial ship; Mercury.

T minus 3 minutes

You place me delicately in my seat, where I whisper in vain: "Farewell my sweet rose".

Susan freezes.

"T minus 2 minutes" the intercom booms.

"Randy... RANDY! I think Ham just... He spoke to me Randy. He spoke to me!"

"WHAT? Don't be ridiculous Susan. We don't have time for this!"

"But..."

"Get that door closed NOW!"

Ham reaches for her hand. She turns back, and their eyes lock. He whispers again, pulling her close.

"What on earth are you doing?" Randy screams.

"I really think he's..."

"Listen, I get it. You're emotional. But the mission comes first."

"Randy, this is more important than the mission. We need to abort."

"Don't be stupid! Get clear NOW!"

"T minus 60 seconds"

She leans in, her hands fumbling through the final belt check. Click.

Heart booming. She lingers. Kisses him on the forehead. "I love you." Their hands squeeze as they cling to this moment.

"T minus 10 seconds"

Their smooth fingertips glide achingly apart. With every fibre, she hauls the door closed. Thud.

Air blasts out with a blinding whoosh. Whipping away her tears. Avoiding the porthole, she heaves the lock. Clunk.

Then, she's gone.

"T minus..."

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About the Creator

T. J. Davey

A welsh poet

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