GHOST - SHORT STORIES

THE SPECTACULAR BLUE

You could've sworn that only ten minutes ago, the sky was a spectacular blue.

Maybe a little longer than ten minutes ago.

Maybe less.

Either way, the swirling grey clouds above had rolled in with a vengeance. Eclipsing the sun and threatening a downpour and a storm.

In a strange way, it feels like the weather's own mirror of recent events that had taken place in your life.

The spectacular blue overtaken by bleak, grey, cold storm clouds.

And a dramatic downpour of woeful tears.

You're half convinced, at this point, that your brain is intent on torturing your heart. As though the two organs are natural born enemies; destined to never come to agreement.

A series of memories that replay through your mind on a gut-wrenching loop.

The good times drowned out by the arguments, the repeated behaviour, all the times that you were let down.

The grey sky above you falls away as you settle into a particularly painful replay. Standing in the living room of your small flat. Simon seated on the sofa a few feet away.

Tears staining your cheeks with mascara lines. Each breath interrupted by sobs.

"I can't keep having this conversation with you."

The exhaustion was becoming heavier. Weighing down harder upon your chest. The constant fight to be loved in the way you deserve to be loved.

Your gloves up in the ring; fighting desperately with Ghost's tendencies to pull away. His inexperience in long-term relationships. His fear of letting anybody in; afraid they'll wander too deep within.

It's three rounds in and you're one punch away from being knocked out cold.

You've had this fight too many times.

Running out of ways to beg him to be what you need him to be. Too tired to keep asking him to change.

And somewhere, deep down, you know he probably never will.

It's another night. Barely a week later. Standing in the kitchen as you stare at your awfully silent phone.

No messages from him. No clue of his whereabouts.

His promise of being home by 10, well and truly broken.

Another mouthful of bitter wine. A swipe away of a tear.

You can't keep doing this anymore.

How can love force you to put up with this? Over and over and over and over again.

The text nobody wants to receive. We need to talk. A text you didn't want to send.

Met with silence for long enough that it reaffirmed your decision. Another show of his avoidance; his preference to shut you out rather than face the problem.

Eventually a one word answer. Eventually he appeared at your front door.

Stepping in to your flat for what you assume may be the last time.

The words caught in your hitched breath. The stinging of tears upon your lash line.

Your heart screaming for you to give him one more chance. You love him, don't you? You don't want to let this go, do you?

But for the first time, ever, the pain is louder than the love.

A rapid-fire run-through of every fight. Every time you begged him to understand you. Every time you wished that he would work on himself without it being a chore that you asked him to complete.