Part two of our weekly writing prompt challenge. This week's theme is:

"A Dream Come True, Inappropriate Laughter and Something Buried"

Frances was not having the best day. 
It was October 10th, exactly one year, 5 months 17 days since it happened. The sun shone--brightness turned all the way up, up, up--- and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was a memory of a summer that shouldn't be. This, she thought, spitting on the parking lot pavement, left a bitter taste in her mouth. Bougainvilleas spilled from the school gates. A bee buzzed by. The cars in the lot were shining like new candy. 

She couldn't understand why this day of all days could be perfect. 

She didn't even know what she was still in school for. There was no point-- it just added up to the long list of chores that she was going to abandon sooner than later. All she wanted to do was to gargle with a bottle of Jack, just to rid herself of feeling. A tingle rode up her spine. She wanted to be void. She wanted to be a black hole, now more than ever. 

Breathing was a task, it was dirty. 

She stopped walking. She took a tentative breath. All she could smell was the sickly-sweet summer-aberration air all around her and she had to fight the urge to puke. Heat rose up from the sidewalk, into her shoes. She clamped her eyes shut, because they stung and her throat was closing up. She'd never felt so alive, and never wanted so badly to be dead. Because one year, 5 months and 17 days weren't nearly enough to bury everything with Josh. How could she be breathing when he wasn't?

When she opened her eyes, she had to stifle a gasp. There, right in front of her was a 2015 Mustang, parked like nobody's business, white and white-hot like the proverbial stallion that it is. How she didn't notice it before, she didn't know. All she knew was her tears started  flowing the same time a hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. 

"Why don't you just buy the new one?" she'd asked. It was a summer day, very much like this one.
He'd smirked, sliding out from under the '69 Mustang. "That would be the awesome but where's the fun in that?" he said, cocky, confident. Alive. "I'll get this baby running, Franny. Then you can learn how to drive a stick for real."

She didn't know if she was laughing harder or just crying smack dab in the parking lot. She felt like she'd been handed a secret wish, a fanciful thing plucked out of a once-living boy's dreams.

I wish you were here, Josh. I really, really do.


Any thoughts?


K x

Post a Comment

Life in Photos