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Shorts
Ringing in the New Year
By smidge
25 December 2007
Not sure if this is the right category, and this is a total work in progress, unfinished, unedited, that I started last night.  Lots of advice needed, thanks.

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m alone, the beach is dark and I shiver slightly in the cold.  The fog is everywhere, can’t see the road, from just ten feet where I’m on the sand and on my own.  I walk the wall, look down to the water, and there’s a couple in Santa hats smoking on their way home, and I know how it looks at I stare down to the water, I know it looks like I’m not getting better, as I step close to the edge, and dart away as the blackness consumes me and vertigo forces me closer. 


It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m alone, and she calls me up on the phone.  She tells me that she misses me, and I hear her boyfriend in the back saying “baby, kiss me!” and she says she needs to go.  It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m alone, and this isn’t the way it’s meant to be – I should be somewhere else, I should be at a party.  I should be with her, and she should be with me, and we could go to parties together and we would be so happy.


It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m alone, and she calls me up on the phone.  I want to leave her with the dialling tone, but part of me needs to hear her voice, and know that I’m not on my own.  I press the green and ask what she has to say, and she whispers that she’ll always love me.  She whispers she’ll always love me, and it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m alone, while she sits comfy with her perfect boyfriend in her perfect home, and he’s soaked in that cologne – expensive I’ll admit, but it don’t make him a Romeo, and she’s no Juliet, or if she is, I’ve not seen that side of her yet.  And she whispers she still loves me, and I wonder if this is some kind of bet, some trick to show me up, to prove I can’t forget her yet.

I hang up again and I’m on my own.  The fuse in a street lamp suddenly blows and I’m in the dark again.  Alone.  Again.  And I cry and she doesn’t see because she never sees and it’s like she’ll never free me – how can I let go of the one I love when she says she loves me?  And I remember the days we’d laze in the park and the summer breeze, and she’d take my hand resting on my knees and kiss my mouth and time would freeze.

Reviews

Written by blogbrush (33 comments posted) 25th December 2007
My first thought was that you should edit this down into a poem, but it actually works well as a stylised piece of prose. The natural of the protagonists relationship with 'her' seems a bit clouded to me, maybe that was your intention. Very interesting piece, I would like to see how it ends up. Merry Christmas!

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