Logan

Short story by: Samantha Ewing
Written on March 8th, 2019
Finished: in the evening.

Part one:
Logan

Once I was in love with a man.
He cheated on me.
I was then in love with another man.
He was good to me.
He made all the girls blush, but one in-particular girl, me, was over the moon about him.

His name was Logan.
He was cute.
He was a red-head.
He had my whole heart.
Until the day I moved.

Part two:
Moving day

We lived in this nice house.
It was on a hill.
Surrounding the house were trees.
The trees Logan and I would hang out in.
The trees that had sweet memories.
Memories that would soon be too far gone.

My room was yellow.
Lots of music would happen here.
Lots of creativity inside these four walls.
Deep dark secrets intertwined within.
Secrets that no one would hear about.

The living room.
Packed with remembrances that will soon be lost.
In this old house.
That I truly loved.

Moving trucks picked up my bed.
They picked up my furniture.
It would soon be moved.
Away from the house on the hill.
Away from the trees that Logan and I would hang out in.
But most unfortunately, away from Logan.

Part 3:
In the car

With memories packed in the truck, Logan came over one last time to the house on the hill.
To the trees we used to hang out in.
He came over to say goodbye.
The last time I would ever see him.
My love.
My life.
My world.
Logan.

Over mountains we go.
To the new place I wished I'd only dreamed of.
To the place that would never have the same memories as the house on the hill.
And the trees that Logan and I hung out in.
Never again would my life be the same.
Not without Logan.
My love.
My life.
My world.
Logan.

Part 4:
Reality

Stuck.
In a car going down the freeway.
Stuck.
Going through the Appalachian mountains in the car that held my only memories.
The only memories of Logan and I.
How we would laugh in the backseat together.
How we would get our tear-stained faces on the camera rolls of each other's phones.
Oh how I miss those days already.

Driving 1300 miles just to go to a house that isn't filled with memories.
Just to go to a house that hasn't heard my secrets.
My four-walled bedroom is going to miss me back at the house on the hill.
Back to where the trees are that Logan and I used to hang out in.

But here I am.
Back in the car.
Back to my real life.
Back to reality.

Part 5:
Home not-so-sweet home

Endless hours of driving has led me to here.
My new house.
Rubbing my eyes, as I wake up from sleeping in the backseat, I see our "new house."
Our "new house" that isn't on a hill.
That's not surrounded by the oh-so-wonderful trees that Logan and I hung out in.

My room was not yellow.
Nor was there ever creativeness flowing in this "new" room.
The room smelled up mildew and old socks.
As I stood in the doorway, I collapsed.

I woke up surrounded by yellow walls.
I woke up surrounded by the creativity that I thought was gone forever.
I woke up to find myself in the house on the hill.
In the house that had trees surrounding it.
The same trees Logan and I hung out in.
The house that had the living room piled high with memories.
I woke up to find the car sitting in driveway.
The same car Logan and I took selfies with our tear-stained faces.

I woke up.
Back to the real realty.
Never again do I have to think of Logan and I's memories disappearing forever.
I woke up.
It was only a dream.
I awoke to find Logan standing over me waiting for me to "get over myself" and to stop daydreaming.
I hugged him close and told him that I would never leave him.
It was only a dream.