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Personal Writing > bubbles' short and tragic scenes

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message 1: by bubblewaffles (last edited Jan 15, 2019 12:56AM) (new)

bubblewaffles | 30 comments


[ Table of Contents ]
Dad, Please
Death in a Lonely Hallway
His Will




message 2: by bubblewaffles (last edited Dec 12, 2018 04:27AM) (new)

bubblewaffles | 30 comments

Dad, Please
   “Dad!” She screamed, rummaging through the rubble on the powdered cement. She felt her throat dry, her blood pumping, as she used her bloody hands to dig through the rubble of the restaurant. Her dad had to be here somewhere, he was just trapped under the rubble.
   “Dad!” She screamed, voice cracking this time. Shaking hands threw rock after rock out of the way, but she found no sign of her father’s familiar, calming, blue eyes. She felt water streaming down her face and she wiped it away with her sleeve, instantly getting powder in her eyes.
   Panicked eyes searched the scene for a glimpse, any glimpse, of the familiar brown haired, blue eyed man. She felt herself getting light-headed as spots started appearing. She couldn’t give up now! She had just found her dad after seven years, and she wasn’t going to give up on finding him through the rubble.
   “Dad!” She screamed once more, trying to lift larger pieces of rock to see if there was any sign of her only parent. She felt her chest pounding, her eyes watering, and her legs shaking like jelly. She collapsed onto the ground, her legs giving in.
Tears clouded her vision as she whispered with her hoarse voice,    “Dad, please.”
   “I know you’re here, please, I lost mom already, I can’t lose you too.” Her voice was a barely audible tone as she lay on the ground, terrified.
   Suddenly, she saw it. A lock of familiar brown hair, uncombed, probably had a cowlick nearby. She jumped to her feet, digging her bloody hands through the rocks as she dug away rock after rock, until she found the face of the man who was her father. It was covered in blood and rubble and she felt fat tears rolling down her face. It couldn’t be, her father had to be alive, he had to be alive!
   “Dad. Please.” She shook his hand, trying to wake him up. He must’ve been sleeping.
   “Dad. Please.” She whispered as she tried shaking his chest, trying to wake him up.
   “Dad, please!” She started shouting, as she felt strong, large, arms pulling her away from her dad.




message 3: by bubblewaffles (last edited Dec 12, 2018 04:29AM) (new)

bubblewaffles | 30 comments

Death in a Lonely Hallway
   Bang!
   The gunshot echoed through the hallways, as she felt the air getting knocked out of her chest. She tried to breathe, only to find that she couldn’t. It felt like something was burning through her as she fell onto the floor. She wanted to cry out, to whimper, to make some sort of sound, but she couldn’t.
   She looked up to see her killer gone, and she tried to scream in pain, when all that came out was a little croak that faded quickly.
   Stand up. She commanded herself, trying to push herself up with the walls of the home she thought she knew so well.
   Stand up. She commanded herself again, hands slipping against the wall as she tried to stand up, to breathe, to do something that would stop her from dying.
   Stand up! She commanded herself a final time, pushing her sweaty, clammy hands onto the wall and standing up, she felt all the air rushing into her lungs. She guessed gravity had something to do with that as she felt her legs giving in. She had to make it to his door, it wasn’t an option. She stumbled across the floors she walked everyday since moving here.
   She arrived at his door, 1118. She fell against it, her legs collapsing from fear and her feelings numbing as she effects of blood loss started to set in.
   The door opened and she fell onto the floor in his room. The warm atmosphere in his room, it made her want to stand up, as tears rolled down her face.
   Don’t cry. She tried not to cry. Don’t be weak. She gasped for breaths, trying to steady her own breathing pace.
   “Oh my god.” She hears the familiar voice mutter, and the pressing of the phone keys as she slips in and out of the world.
   “Please, please, stay with me.” The voice guides her eyes open.
   She wants to speak, but she can’t. It takes too much energy. Strength she doesn’t have.
   “Remember that time when we were at the carnival, and I wanted to buy you that cat you wanted?” The voice makes her laughs, but she winces at the pain. She wants to close her eyes, to rest, but as she closes her eyes again, the voice guides her awake.
   “And then I blew thirty bucks on that game, and then you couldn’t take it, and I thought you were going to sue them or send a major lawsuit their way, but no, you did it! You won the cat.” She smiles, as the memory flashes before her eyes.
   “And I gave it to you.” She croaks out, mustering up some of her remaining strength.
   She can hear the voice crying, and wants to reach out and say that it’ll be okay, but her arms can’t, won’t, move.
   “Do you remember what you said that day?” The voice asks, as tears fall onto her face.
   “I love you.” She croaks, the final words leaving her lips as she felt herself losing consciousness.




message 4: by bubblewaffles (new)

bubblewaffles | 30 comments

His Will
It had been months since he had died. She couldn’t even bring herself to say his name without a few tears leaking out. She had dedicated herself to the best bottles of booze meant for them to celebrate after retirement, with their perfect kids, and their perfect house, and their perfect pets. She shook the image out of her head, and brushed away the tears in her eyes. She knew he didn’t want a funeral, so she simply buried his body in their backyard, where he would’ve wanted. Away from the rest of the world that shunned their relationship. Sure, he was three years her senior, and had dated and cheated on many people, but it didn’t change how she felt about him.
Love. It was all she could feel when she was with him. It was all the fluffy feelings of happiness she felt when she dove into the beautiful fictional worlds that held so much more than what her world contained. Nice and caring friends, beautiful scenery, and most importantly, loving parental figures. She felt exactly that every moment when she was with him. She loved the scent of his hair, the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his lips on hers. She shoved it away as she approached the house that had haunted her for the longest time possible.
The house of the woman that had been with her husband. She heard the sounds of a little kid laughing, and her heart shattered into a million pieces. She had wanted to believe what the hospital records had said was false, that this woman’s child wasn’t made with her husband, but hearing the laugh, she knew that there was no denying it. Standing outside the big brown door, eyes clouded with tears, she didn’t know what to do. What to say. It had been so long since she had talked to anyone, because she didn’t have anyone. She didn’t have the privilege of friends, or siblings. She was alone in this world, until the moment when the dove grey eyes bore into hers, and she fell in love. She had never thought that she would find someone who loved her, with all of her flaws, mistakes, and horrors. She thought that she would be alone for the rest of her life, left to rot while her former classmates threw garlic at her grave. But now it was her husband who was buried, in the ground, as she lived on. She would’ve given anything to trade places with him. To let him leave her and live the rest of his natural life span out with another woman, who she knew undoubtedly shared true love with him. She would’ve given anything to let anyone else share the magic she had experienced with him. She was scared of losing him when she was living, but if she was dead, he could still be happy, and so could his child.
Looking at the big, brown, oak door, with a family’s name above the doorbell, she felt so out of place, so alone, and as she placed her finger above the doorbell, the child spoke, and she felt her tears uncontrollably leaking out. She saw a glimpse of his messy brown hair through a hole in the curtain, and it was the splitting image of her late husband’s. Both of her hands drew to her mouth as she covered it, to prevent herself from making sounds. She cried, on the porch of the woman’s house, lonely, and scared, like she was years ago. It was a feeling that had deeply rooted itself inside her, and even if she tried to ignore it, like she had when her husband was still alive, it was still a part of her. She was just as much filled with darkness as her husband was filled with joy. It was what balanced them, what made them both feel complete, like two sunny side ups and a sausage, two waffles and a piece of bacon.
She couldn’t bear to look any further, and looked down at her hands, her husband’s will. It said that any property he had would be evenly divided between his offspring. There was only one way that he could support his other child, and it was even from beyond the grave. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, as she couldn’t bring herself to look up from the papers. Even from beyond the grave, he was still supporting his only son, like the business meetings when he was visiting his son, making sure that she never noticed. He was a part of two families, intruding in one, and belonging in the other. And it was about time she understood this, even if it meant sacrificing her stolen happiness.




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