A Spidey Short Story 2

She never calls again. The enthusiasm that we once shared is gone. She never writes as well. Come to think even the sms’s are usually replies not induced from her own free will. She is slipping away…and the harder I try to cling on the further I push her. She hates walking down memory lane. Likes when we hang out with my pals or hers…but never alone. She no longer picks me up from work. Never gets me my favorite novels or favorite DVD’s. She no longer lives and breathes for me like she used to…or like I live and breathe for her. I was her earth and she the moon that revolved around me. But she was and is my sun- I revolve and rotate around her and for her.

Funny how all this started. It was her who did the flirting, she practically did the chasing as well. She was more interested way before I was. Once we clicked nothing could have pulled as apart. Finished each other’s sentences. Felt each other’s presence like the time I was upstairs and you were running late and I felt it when you entered the building. Soulmates. She fell in love and I quickly tripped after.We were happy, she knew it I knew it. A match made in heaven that no man or woman could ever divide…but there was one mortal enemy that defeats any form of adultery-TIME!

With time she grew used to me. I don’t know when but the signs were there. I stopped being funny-you no longer laugh at my jokes. I stopped being interesting. I remember you not wanting to sit with me in class. You did not want endless phone call conversations. I was getting plain to you. You even had legitimate excuses to cancel dates which before it’s the excuses you would have cancelled on. As in you woke up one morning and everything had changed?

The power of rejection is quite shattering. It’s never an ego thing nor the humiliation. But the realization that for starters your love is actually greater than hers. You love her more and its not fair! Secondly for you to feel rejected means that at once you were accepted. At one point in time all was well and you were happy-but not anymore. Rejection is a blow to the heart and self-worth. It’s an outward show of disregard, lack of interest and worst of all change of heart. Having loved and been loved and then having lost somewhere along the way!

I think getting dumped is even better. I know being cheated on is acceptable. But being there when a person has metarmorphosised completely towards you, yet claiming nothing has changed-that right there-is what causes a deep pit full of sadness. When you realise a smile is forced. When you get hints of boredom. When even meeting seems like such a strained effort. And when you enquire she makes you feel like such an insecure adolescent. In the end you feel like a child that’s lost his way. You used to be so confident and sure. You were near arrogant but have been reduced to humiliating levels that are below begging. You fret and whine about the distance…you complain when she doesn’t return your calls…you can’t understand why she is not thinking of you 24/7…you have become a bitch…a sissy…cannot function…gone past being whooped...to the point even you know it’s not healthy.

So why don’t you put me out of misery! Be done with me-say it’s over! Call it quits. Break my heart completely not partially. I was never one to be a defeatist, but I have given up. There is nothing more I can do. What you fell in love with way back then is still here. I have never changed. You loved me then and it’s unfortunate that that is now not enough. It’s even more unfortunate that you were all I will ever want. Letting you go won’t be as heart breaking as how I have watched you letting me go! Perhaps I’m reading you wrong…perhaps nothing has changed…but it’s these kind of doubts and debates I will no longer continue having for I’m getting weak. I can’t be the only one analyzing us. So if it’s what you really want, if it’s over, it was not my fault- I hope. I will do the manly thing now…and stop caring!

(A series of Spidey Short Stories. This however perhaps is not a work of fiction like the last. Any similiarity to actual events and persons...time and place...is not entitely coinicdental)

A Spidey short story

The wind blowing ever so gently as you sat there by the beach. The sun creeping up from its hiding place full of promise. Mesmerising rays reflecting off the still quite waters. No one else awake, just you and the whispering palm trees...perhaps the falling coconuts or the occasional crabs walking along the beach. Your thoughts running wild. Your hopes and dreams. Your accomplishments and failures. You look into the yonder looking for salvation. You even pray. You plan and strategise how to be a better man...a better being...how to move on. You have made these promises before but somehow this air... this ambience... this solitude you experience...the right here and right now- makes a difference.

You clutch yourself not from cold but the need to feel pressed. You feel alone. Yet again, pangs of loneliness hit you. Just when you thought you were doing well a wave of depression rolls in with the tide. You succumb to inept feelings, become overwhelmed by emotion. All the while, as the sun rises your heart is setting. As it radiates its beams of light, your veins feel constricted and restrained. A tear gently builds up, there have been plenty of those. Depressing as it is, the tear reflects light like a prism, making the sun magnificently glorious. But as it streams down...the harsh reality returns.

Your mind drifts back to that night you sat outside the waiting room in casualty. The day your life changed. You had been driving as she made plans for the future. As usual she was always a step ahead...always optimistic...always with back-up plans. At that moment she was picking out colors for the baby who was due in 2 months. She had a liking for royal blue...and you fought her hard on it...but knowing deep inside you liked royal blue. Her laughter filled the air. Love was so obvious, you were practically one being, in sync with each other heart, body and soul. She stroked your leg. You turned to stroke her cheek and brush the hair of her face...

They had later said that a lorry had been parked on the roadside. They had insinuated it was your fault and perhaps it was. You had lost consciousness but came to, but she was doing badly and had to be rushed to the mini-operating room.They could not say what the prognosis was. She was in critical condition.

The hospital walls were caving in. The floor was hard, your legs were completely numb. The smell of dried blood was nauseating. The anxiety was too much and you could have vomited twice were it not for the fact there was nothing left. The nurses zooming in and out of the minor theatre said nothing...but spoke volumes in the way they avoided his eyes. You did not want to imagine living without her. You did not want to imagine losing your unborn child. It was not a good sign when a nurse run in carrying pints of blood. It was not good when you heard the bleep of that heart monitor. And when the doors opened and the operating surgeon walked towards you...you knew!

Somehow you knew. Somehow you knew this was the end. You felt your soul detach. Deep inside you died a thousand times. Your earth shattered. You lost ground. You would never live or love again.

So here you are a year after. At the same spot you cuddled in under a blanket to watch the sun rise. Same spot you had made plans. Outside the same cottage she had conceived earlier that year. Unfortunately that morning there were clouds and she had missed the sunrise. You had promised that the following day you would wake her up early...It was never meant to be. She wasn't meant to catch the sunrise...not then...not in her lifetime.

A year later you vow to yourself not to let the memories kill you. Not let the pain destroy you. They had said time heals all wounds, but that wound was still fresh. The time was 6:43 am...you snap back to reality. Having resolved nothing you decide to move on. You turn the wheelchair around and wheel yourself back inside to check on your little son who's birthday it is today.

(Dedicated to my English Teacher Mrs Ojara, who was a sucker for mushy story's....and I figured if thats what it takes to get atleast a 28/40 in compo...just call me Daniel Steele.)