I climbed the building step by step, not running, only tip-toeing, afraid to be heard. No one knew I was here, and no one will ever know. I will leave no trace.
I reach the roof, opening the door to a world of fresh air and new possibilities. I took one step and imagined what people may have ventured up here.
The newly met couple. The boy and girl hardly know each other, yet trust each other with everything they have. They don't have long, he leaves to go home in two weeks time and she has to go back to school. They shouldn't be doing this at all, it's dangerous for the both of them. They will get hurt. Yet she clings onto his hand like it's the last thing she'll ever do and follows him up here. He spins her round before catching her by her waist, pulling her close for a midnight dance underneath the stars.
The suicidal widow. He had not been alone for long but these past few weeks have been unbearable. She wouldn't have wanted him to do this, but then again she wasn't here anymore. He was long, and her opinion didn't count. Though he swore he heard her voice as the wind whipped past his ear as he plummeted to the ground.
I though, I just came here to think. These possibilities seemed endless to me. But I came here for a fresh head, a fresh mind and fresh thoughts, watching the ghosts of my imagination.

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Fablanta about 8 years ago

Sorry but I found this a bit disjointed. Six minutes isn't long and trying to write 3 stories; about the girl; the couple and the man was maybe taking on too much. I was also whipped out of the story by 2 words; widow and the second, long. I could almost forgive this though because of the gorgeous phrase, "watching the ghosts of my imagination".

chloeanneeee (joined about 9 years ago)

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Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

genres

romance

tags

romance suicide grief imagination

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