Farewell New York - WS

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Summary

When the worlds keeps spinning and you can't slow down. New York, New York, you remind me of so much shit, -- you know when life doesn't quit at throwing you lemons? And then draw the fuck you ticket, wish my life was more like Dude's in the movie. Flash Fiction -- World Shackle Anthology

Genre:
Drama / Poetry
Author:
A. E. Sten
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
1
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
16+

Water under the Bridge

Such an odd turn of events with me standing here and beneath me the world turns and shifts to the ache of my whole; my soul revealed to the serendipity that was you. I wished for more, so much more and yet here I now stand, defeated with visions of tears, hair shifting to the winds of the crescent tower I now stand upon, surrounded by the crimson love of life, that bridge of bridges. I met him here, I met you here.

With but a golden pen in hand this letter shall carry the weight for which I hope will linger through subtle echoes, offering those near a brief reprieve through their lives, challenge their minds with mine as I reach out my hand of hopeless nature, whimsical to the duality and equal irony as I still hope, Hope for a moment of yours.

Like cars... cars and people, they pace below, failing to hear the cadence of my tears and silent plead as I whimper to the cold embrace of filthy steel, embracing myself, quite the wreck I know. I missed so much of life and all I ask is that you do not. Dare yourself but a moment and look around, watch those people around, remember their smiles as they see their loved ones call, watch them shine to the voices of those close, listen to the words of your friends and see them grow.

My story, my real story began a week ago now. I felt the ache then as I do now, you betrayed my whole that night. You were my life, my all, my stars of night and sun of day.

The shadows of your features as you shifted through the smoke of the rising fire, shouting my name as I screamed yours. My arms searching for yours, in panic I flailed as you begged me to calm down whilst our curtains swayed to the tickles of surging flames.

Drunk and broken at the words of mine as you cried and cried and pleaded for my forgiveness, uncaring for the flames which embraced our moment of passion. There were sirens outside, fire trucks and police, and all in-between and we were the focus of the city, their eyes and gazes sought to embrace us with their scrutiny.

The furious fervour of his vice sent shivers to my spine and yet I clung to hope, latching on to his gaze of blue with mine of utmost and sincere uncertainty, “Please,” I managed, lips shivering to the fear of my shattered resolve.

With the clamour of mine his eyes shifted away in shame, noticing too late the beams breaking from above as it fell down upon us, trapping us in the tight warmth of embers.

I awoke to the soft voice of my friend, his coat white and in his eyes lingered a spark of hope and warmth as he saw life within me. I wondered then as I wonder now; what he felt. I wished I had asked him then and there but now here I stand on the edge of my crimson infinity and the waters beneath this cold embrace to the feeling of my pounding heart.

I wish now to take this final step and find my place of solace, that dream of solemn thought and hope of nevermore a morrow.

“Don’t jump,” A voice pleaded from behind, uniform and young in his black and silvery badge.

“Why? I’ve finished it, the letter,” I stated, looking down as I felt my footing give way for but a moment, shifting my arms around the steel as I gasped.

The man furrowed his brows, “What is it about?”

“Life... my life,”

“Life is precious,” he said, daring closer as I shifted against the beam behind me, feeling like a cornered animal as I yelped, my grip failing, nearly stumbling to the beat of my heart.

“Not mine....” I replied, feeling the wind as it paced through the towering structure. It took hold of my letter and I cried out a whisper, “No....” my hand failing to grasp it.

He reached out a hand and managed to take it, his eyes of amber resting upon my faltering features of broken hope, then looked down upon the letter, reading it with a pained expression, “Who are you?”

“I’m just me, one of many,” I replied, his warm eyes reflected upon mine and I felt not alone for the first time in years.

“Take my hand then, just me,” he said, and reached out.

“Why do you care if I live or die?” I asked him, shifting my eyes down upon the water as I climbed up on the ledge, feeling the wind carrying the fabric of my clothes, offering that reprieve I so longed for.

“Whimsical as you may be, I offer you my hand and moment... and your friend is waiting for you down there,” he said and took my hand as his words sunk into my mind to the notion of falling tears of pain and joy.

I threw my arms around him, embracing him as if he was the first human I had ever seen, knowing now that my friend Hope had never abandoned me; it was I who turned my back on her.

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