Life can hang in the balance because of one decision you make. I know this better than anyone; I had to learn this the hard way. Four months ago my life changed forever because of a decision I made. I decided to light the candle that caused my misery. It caused the fire that killed my parents, burnt my family' should to the ground and destroyed my life. The only item that didn't become a pile of ash was my iPod, the last item my parents bought for me before they passed on. It was a breezy June night, and it was the last day of school. I had lit the candle as a memorial to my friend who I had lost a month prior. My friend and I were not what people considered as normal; we were both bullied a lot because of this. I was strong, but my friend, Thomas, wasn't strong enough. He was tormented everywhere he turned, unable to find any peace in this world, so he left for a new one, where he could be free.
The loss of Thomas took its toll on me. I retreated into myself, didn't say much to anyone, not even my parents. I was alone after he died. My parents may as well already have been dead, it wouldn't have made much of a difference to me. Being alone wasn't so bad, I had a lot of time to think. I destroyed my home of sixteen years and my closest family, causing myself untold pain and misery. It also meant that I had to move in with my Uncle Jack, who had spent the past three years trying to drink himself to death after my Aunt Suzie passed away after a battle with breast cancer. He was inconsolable. He still was when I was put into his care. He never left his study, except to get food. All I know is that after the blaze I was alone. Or so I thought.
After a month of living in complete solitude, I noticed some strange occurrences happening in the house. A cup appeared I. My room without me placing it there; the next day it was full of water, even though I didn't touch it. Some of you may be thinking " You're Uncle could've placed it there." There is one thing that you need to know: I keep my door locked and I'm the only person who has a key. I won't deny that I was scared, but I had been through so much pain that my fear was drowned out by a longing for my parents. For my family to come home, to come back, even though I knew it was impossible. I still had that pain long after I knew they were gone, it would never go away. The next incident to occur brought back that pain to the surface. One night, a pictures hat had always sat on our mantle over the fire appeared on my bed as though someone had just lifted it off. As I stared at the photo of my father and myself hugging, I fell to my knees and started to cry. I just sat on the floor of my tiny room and cried. It might have been an hour or eight hours, I didn't know. All I knew was that I cried until my eyes hurt.
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I opened my eyes and I was back in my old room, with flames sparking and crackling all around me. I spun round and round, searching for a way out. In between the popping and splintering of my wooden bed frame, I heard the beat of drums. My iPod was still plugged into the dock beside me, so I grabbed it, rushed through the flames and tried to get to my door, but it was blocked by the towering flames. I was trapped. I did the only thing I could think of and jumped out of my bedroom window. As the glass shattered around me, and I heard the distant screams of my parents echo in my ears, I grabbed onto a branch of the tree that grew just outside my window. I knew from there on, I would be alone.
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I awoke with a start, still on the floor, my top soaked with my tears. I wiped my face with my hands, then looked down to see that my scars from the burns were still there. It dawned on me at this point that my picture wasn't on my lap. I spun my head round, searching my room to see where it had gone. Then I saw it, sitting on my bedside table, with a necklace I thought was lost long ago hanging on the frame. A ruby red heart with a black spiderweb pattern hung from a black chain on the sterling silver frame. It was given to me by my friend as a birthday present on my thirteenth birthday as a thank you for helping to save his life. Unfortunately, I was unable to do it a second time. At this moment, a breeze blew past my neck. I whipped my head around to see if my window was open, which it wasn't. I slowly rotated my head to see that I was no longer alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of Friendship
Short StoryAs life fleets by, I learn this all too well. But sometimes fate doesn't totally suck. And I get a second chance at friendship. (let me know if you spot any mistakes)