Writing Short story: Nameless

[Phantom]

Wounded, like an aged widow, enclosed in a shawl of past/present misery. Like her, I lay stranded. Like her I am not alone, but seemingly trapped in a cocoon of bittersweet sullenness, for her soft, old body is encased in the spiritual arms of her felled lover. My lover is yet to be harmed in any physical way but of course this for me is a time of turmoil. My young mind aches with grievances but why? It is merely a month. A month without my Angel, a month without food, more like. She is my flesh and heart, my soul, my benevolent?.sweeter half.

Like reading an old book, the story is dull, but with classed embroidery to tell a story far too deep for the speculative, superficial individual. One must be able to fill the point of view in the shoes of the writer, for being involved with it is beyond anything normal.

I mean, if she had only tried. Just enough to get a by and not fail. Failure was eminent and yet I did nothing to help. I offered, but offering is not enough in a case of stubbornness. Sure my love failed her classes, she spend far too much time out of normal class, makes me wonder what she was doing?couldn?t be strolling the halls could it? Once I even wondered if she was leading on a relationship with another man. My love was weaker than, besides even if she was, if I loved her would I not pass it off and forgive? Yes. I am obsessed with this girl, her name, to not be mentioned for my month is yet to be entertained and I must remain in solitude. Her little body, her cute eyes, her soft burgundy/crimson hair, like silk to the touch, gosh I love my Angel, in every mental, and physical way possible.

It hurts like a railroad tie being driven through, sent with godly correspondence, karma. Must have been something I did to anger the higher beings. But what did I do wrong, be an ideal boyfriend, or maybe was it the fact that I stopped fighting with my parents entirely? Whatever it was, I really angered them. My story is nameless, mainly because it deserves no title; it is merely a memoir of my experiences during the grounding of my angel.

[b]day1[/b]:

I was alone for my first day, it happens, being Angel less for a day is not that uncommon for me, sometimes I feel that I need a break, and it wasn?t all that bad, I wake up, go to school.

At school, crazy! Stew and I spend what feels like sixty hours hooking up and configuring routers with some pretty advanced configs. Than Waldemar challenges us, thinking he can get away with messing our configurations up and thinking we can?t troubleshoot. Wrong, because we leveled the erroneous changes in what felt like three seconds (when in reality it must have been a good two minutes.).

School ended with a bang, the teacher dropped the new liquid crystal display projector on the ground and we all watched his head swell up like a lemon. Not to mention that junk he drinks which smells like urine, spilled all over the new carpet floor. If not for those chain of events, my day would have been rather average and dull.

Home (dull, I know). With my Sis (Heather) at work, I had hoped for a good long and detailed chat with my girl about the days hectic events only to realize that my darling wouldn?t be with me that night, didn?t cry, wasn?t worried.

[b]day2[/b]:

A blur. She managed to log on at school that day but I still do not know how?it was however a pleasurable experience. She warmed my day with a few ?I miss you?s and I love you?s?, but the next two weeks were more, blurred than this particular day. I just don?t remember it all too well.

[b]week2/3[/b]:

Ever been locked in your room crying like a child over something you knew would end? I have, which concludes what I was doing for what felt like three years solid.

[b]Present day[/b]:

Recent psychoanalysis has proven that brainwashing is merely a tricking of the mind into allowing it to believe what it finds ideal. So what stops us from brainwashing ourselves? Nothing, so evidently I am a pop singer with a taste for pink lettering and childish poems talking in beautifully written gibberish about how I miss my girl. Odd I think, but it was not my fault, and if this is what happens to me after only three weeks absent of my Angel, I fear my life if we ever have to separate for an extended period of time. I would cringe as a slow demise would be eminent.

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