A Fraction of Fiction

Sunset

A short story inspired by Kate Atkinson's style of writing.

Genre: Suspense/horror

Warnings: violence, blood, insanity.

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Virginia sat on her roof at precisely 4:05 every evening to watch the sun as it sets over her great city. Her city. The one that she lived in. The one she lorded over.

She eyed the colors, soaking them in as if she were a sponge sopping up spilled liquids. The colors consumed her imagination. The orange of the sky brought her mind to think of the fruit her dear Peter was so fond of. She took a deep breath and she could practically taste the sweet, acidic juices of the orange spill on her tongue as she recalled eating them in a grove with Peter.

"I wonder if that grove is still around, Peter," she voiced. The trees had swayed in the cool breeze when she and Peter had last gone. It was the sort of breeze that ignited a strong longing for a warm hug.

Peter did not reply.

Virginia sighed again, peering thoughtfully at the bright sun, causing spots in her vision that she ignored. The sun was an enthusiastic yellow. The sort of yellow that caused Virginia to be thrust into her mind. She could perfectly recall the feeling of elation that consumed her on the day she walked down the aisle to Peter. A soft smile filled her face as she could remember the way Peter nearly fell on the way back up the aisle. She could picture their friends and families dancing, alive and well, as though it were yesterday rather than 2 years ago. Virginia's giggles joined the other screams of the chaotic city as her thoughts brought her to recollect how Peter had tripped over his feet during their first dance.

"Oh, Peter, dear, always so clumsy." She beamed at her memories.

If Peter heard, he gave no acknowledgement.

Virginia wheezed lightly, watching as the sun drooped lower, making the buildings on the horizon appear blacker and more charred then they already were. The black was a welcoming black. It was the kind of black that could be found on burning wood. The way the orangey, red colors of the sunset reflected off the buildings, giving it a burning look.

Virginia reached out her hands to warm themselves by the fire, when she recalled that the buildings weren't actually burning anymore.

"Silly, Virginia. Aren't I silly, Peter? Thinking I could warm myself by the fire." She had herself a right chortle at the thought.

Peter was not amused.

Virginia sighed once more. She the warm orangey red had given way to a sort of bright pink. It was a sort of pink that made her think of love. Love and Valentine's day. She remembered how Peter had given her a Valentine's day card back when they were in school. She could vividly envision the pink tint on his cheeks. As pink as the card she handed him over the old desk.

"Do you think that school is still standing, Peter?" She asked. The school had been old. "Of course, it's not around, Virginia. The fires took out everything. How could a wooden schoolhouse survive such fires and the rest of city not, you ninny?" Virginia scolded herself so Peter didn't have to.

Peter still remained silent.

Virginia exhaled loudly. She continued to observe the sky. The pink had led to a light, soft purple. As soft as a laugh. Like Peter's laugh. Something she hadn't heard in a while. She missed his laugh. It was a nice laugh. Purely gentle. Gentle as the wind that caressed her skin.

She leaned into the soft embrace of the wind, allowing it to hug her.

"Oh, Peter, why won't you laugh anymore?" She uttered, wistfully.

Peter had no comment.

Virginia breathed sharply. The purple blended gently to a pastel blue. This blue matched the eyes of her darling Peter. The very same eyes she would find comfort and warmth in. The eyes that she watched the light leave just as she watches the light leave the earth every evening. The blue was that of waves breaking on the shore. It rivaled the blue of a field of poppies and contested the blue of frozen fingertips. She remembered the way that the winters had become unforgivingly cold. The bodies that littered the streets were blue. The blue of the sky did not match that blue. This blue was Peter's eyes. That was all Virginia allowed herself to think of. Peter's blue, blue eyes.

"Peter, your eyes were so, so blue. You know that right?" She informed.

Peter did not make any remark.  

Virginia shrugged and released the air within her lungs like one releases their tightly clenched fists. She turned her gaze towards the ever-sinking sun. The pastel blue, soft purple, bright pink, orangey red, and fruity orange, had given way to a sort of deep red. The sort of red that made Virginia's breath catch. This sort of red Virginia could not stop seeing when she closed her eyes. It was a violent red. A harsh red. The kind of red that she found on her hands as she held Peter one night.

It was a reminder, that red. A reminder that Virginia actively ignored. A reminder of the way the world is now. She shoved the reminder aside.

"Peter, why was your blood so dark?"

Peter did not give an answer.

Virginia's breath was shaky. She watched as the tip of the sun dipped behind the crest of the hill, but the brightness remained as the burning glow of the city around her kept it lit. As she tuned back into the world, the screams of those trapped in burning buildings filled the night sky as heavily as the smoke.

Virginia coughed, but remained on her roof long after the sun had gone down. Her train of thought traveled down a dark path—as dark as the sky above. The deep purply-grey smoke circled her like a cage.

She remained frozen as the harsh reality came rushing in as quickly as a bursting dam. A tear left her eye. A white tear. A gentle tear. A tear that held too many thoughts and feelings. A plethora of memories and regrets.

A cruel chuckle bubbled in her throat.

Of course Peter isn't dead! Why would he be? He couldn't have bled out and then left to burn! Not Peter!

That was ridiculous!

The mere thought sent Virginia further into a fit of wild giggles. Uncontrollable giggles. The sort that caused the hair to rise on the back of your neck. She rocked back and forth, clutching her stomach as the sound of her amusement soared above the screams of the city.

She stood and walked over to her table, still giggling to herself. She got out a box of matches and lit one, chuckling to herself at the hilarious way the fire danced. She threw back her head and cackled as she dropped the match into a trashcan filled with paper. Her laughs grew into a loud heckle as she kicked the can over, causing the bright, orange flames to prance onto her carpet. She followed the fire's moves and danced with it as she walked back out onto her roof, sitting down again.

"Oh, Peter, Peter, Peter," she professed with a smile, still swaying to the music of the crackling flames beneath her. "Isn't life so, so funny?"