The Ghostwriter

by A.R. Torre

A perfect morning. A perfect husband. A perfect daughter. A perfect lie.

It had been love. From the very beginning. Wild. Crazy. Senseless. Love.

Funny what you find out about people when they leave you. Or when your mind stops making excuses for all of their clues.

Maybe all she was blessed with is the talent to tell stories, and not the talent to create them. There’s a very real distinction between the two.

There is nothing like young love. It comes at a time before the heart knows to protect itself, when everything important is raw and exposed—the perfect environment for a soul-sucking, heart-crushing burst. It burns brightest, hits hardest, and touches deepest. It’s why Facebook flames erupt two decades later between high school sweethearts. Between two naive and innocent souls, anything can happen. Soulmates or Tragedy. And sometimes, both.

I understand how

one person, one whisper of truth, can crumble empires, destroy lives, reveal monsters.

I hate Simon with my entire soul, and I love him with every other inch of my body, and neither really matters because he is dead, and I killed him.

There should be a rule in the universe, one that states that mortal problems will fade with a terminal diagnosis. I’m dying. I shouldn’t have to deal with petty shit on my way out.

We all have a Happily Ever After, each story just needs to pick the right time to claim it.

That is how life is, it gives us burdens to carry and doesn’t give a damn about the weight. We shoulder it or we break.