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.)