KeahiTheAuthor's One Shots.

Yet

This is a slightly different story. I can't really explain it. Just, read.

4 days

Cassie was silent. She lay in her cot, alone with her thoughts. She closed her eyes to see what she'd seen before. Nothing. That was it, there was nothing. The repetitiveness of her daily 'life'. Her morning routine of being changed and fed. A bit of playtime and sleep. Sleep. Why did she need it? She didn't. Not yet. Not yet makes it sound planned. Avoidable. No. She rolled to her side. She was calm. She was fearless. Yet, IT was always there. That word. Yet. There are so many ways you can use it. Yet. She loved that. She loved it when there were different ways of doing things. The fact that things were set for her used to worry her. But she was beginning to turn. She lay there, thinking about the word. Yet. She began to make sentences.

'She hadn't fallen asleep, yet'
'She hadn't been to the toilet yet'
'She hadn't been to another county yet'
'She hadn't seen a giraffe yet'
'She hadn't written the word Hello yet'

But

'It hadn't come to get her'

'Yet'

The word. Sometimes it means you haven't done it. Sometimes it means it's going to happen soon. Sometimes it means it's going to happen, wether you like it or you don't. Yet can mean all the difference. Nobody else was as calm as Cassie's Yet. Surely, Yet wasn't as close as Now but as far as Soon. She hoped. Hope. Grace. She could name more things like that but they all had one thing in common. She'd yet to figure it out. She would. She hoped.

3 days

Yet. It was in her mind again. Always before bed. She'd thought about it earlier.

'I'm not going to bed, Yet'
'I'm not going to sleep, Yet'

She spoke the two sentences in her mind and realised they sound the same. But mean completely different things. She turned again. This time her fear of a set path took a frightening turn. She thought about how she couldn't stray. How she had no choice of which way to go. But she thought. Everyone walks the same path. Some just chose to run instead. Choice. No. That was the wrong word. There was no choice. Some are forced to run. She turned in her cot again. She was calm. Silent. She saw a shooting star outside her window. Wishing. She'd have to add that to her list. Hope, Grace and Wishing.

'She couldn't ask what they had in common, Yet'

Yet. Here it comes again. She pushed it away. She wanted to sleep. But then again. Why did she need it? She still took the Opportunity. Ah. Opportunity. Stop. Here she goes again. Something she'll never get. Opportunity. She may as well take every last one.

2 days

ITS a small part of what you can become. Everything is. Everything bad. Everything good. The cat squeezed into her cot.

'She hadn't said his name, yet'

He was grey. Not black. Not white. Grey. Neutral. It soothed her. To know there's a in-between of everything. Maybe this was her in between. Maybe. It's like Yet. But different. Less certain. She still preferred Yet. But maybe she was a maybe. Yet, maybe she wasn't. She wasn't in the mood to think. She knew she was a yet. A yet which was certainly soon.

Tonight

Everyone watched her sleep. Sleep for the final, everlasting time. She was forever alone with her thoughts. She'd figured so much out in the last day.

She knew what they all had in common.

They couldn't stop Yet.

Yet is time. Yet happened. Yet is strong. Stronger than Hope, Grace, Wishing, Liberty, Happiness, Strength. Yet was inevitable. Why is she bashing Yet? It was Its fault. Everyone blamed it. It was stronger than Yet. It was stronger than time. She hoped she could defeat it. But she came to terms with the fact she couldn't. She found tranquility. Something the rest of her family may never find without her. It was sad but true. They all said goodbye slowly to someone they thought had never experienced the world. How wrong they turned out to be. She knew better than anyone it was coming. But she wasn't so aware of its inconvenient timing. She wanted to hit the piñata at her 3rd birthday. Unfortunate. She could talk forever. She had forever.

Yet.