Creative Writing

I’ve been outgoing lately. I’ve talked to the people at the docks, over by the woods, around the neighborhood. I’ve seen a variety of people, everyone that catches my eye. They asked me if I wanted to see them later, and I said of course, but certainty is so difficult to attain. It’s fun to see what everyone has to offer me, what they have to say. Everyone has a different flavor to them, a different aroma, a different look. They are cotton candy clouds, rough scaly monsters, silken angels, and colorful yarn. They smell of resale stores, rich cologne, geranium flowers, and the caustic acid used for copper etching. Their flavors are of sunny paris seasoning, freshly picked figs on a hot summer’s day, and the sour taste of blood. I hold their hands, give them a hug. They are something new to enjoy, a distraction from what I already have, something to sate the boredom of my ordinary love. They help me drift away from those who are so terribly close to me, my emotional suffocation.

I didn’t mean to hurt him.

Over the next week I visited him when I could. We always met each other at the metal shelter beside the docks. Under it was sharp, crunchy gravel and two rows of benches, containing six each. We always chose the bottom right bench to sit at. The weather each day ranged from vivid and colorful, to blindingly bright, to dim and drenched by the atmosphere’s grief. We killed time by talking and teasing each other. Sometimes we just sat in silence and drank up the comfort of each other’s presence, looking into each other’s eyes. His eyes shone with rings of green and blue, his smile was so wide that it parted his lips subtly at their corners. His orange cheeks were smooth and so wonderful to kiss. His hair was soft, and it curled up at its ends. He was made of... something. Like we all are. Like the alligator man, the doll girl, and the woman who glistens due to her pearlescent skin.

He seemed so happy to see me, until yesterday. He was so quiet toward the end. He didn’t squeeze me when we hugged each other goodbye.

I head back to the picnic tables again, looking for him. My eyes pass by the benches for a moment, stuck on the lake’s horizon. It’s hot and bright out now,

I didn’t know I was just a passing moment to you.

I’m short on words, staring at his twisted up face. His eyes are vicious and pained as he looks at me. His posture droops, and he turns to put his head into his hands. I reach my arm over and grab his shoulder, and pull him close to myself. I hush him and ask;

What do you mean?

He does not answer. He withers in my embrace. He cries and cries, his body shakes with each breath that he takes. He begins to sob, and globs of his body melt off him like wax running down a hot candle. I jump back, horrified at the sight before me. His skin saturates my sweater’s sleeve. Below him, a pool of his liquified body is forming. Bits of him sift through the weaved metal of the bench and join the mountain of grief below him.

No, no! Stop, stop, please!

He’s almost gone now, and I’m trying so hard to gather him back up. The sounds of his crying fades as his body slips through my fingers. I’m trying to put him back together, but failing. He’s like hot, melted orange taffy now. I struggle, trying to piece him back together, to sculpt his delicate, beautiful frame, but he oozes down to the Earth and falls apart again and again.

but there’s a slight breeze that brings the smell of rain. The soft grass that surrounds the dock is turning away from its usual green color. I look back under the metal shelter to find him. It isn’t hard to find him, because there’s no one else around today. I walk up to him. He looks at me with a forcefully blank expression and sits down. I sit beside him at the green expanded-metal table and talk with him for a while, but he is distant and gives short responses. He is turned away from me, his fluffy hair obscuring his face. My mind is drawn away from the harsh, sunny atmosphere, and I try to scoot closer to him. He won’t let me be near him. In each passing moment the clouds seem to close in, sunlight leaves my periphery. I ask him what’s wrong, finally, and he is in tears in a short moment.

The sky is completely gray, each edge of Earth filled with thunderous clouds. Likewise, there is no sun in view. Although the rain became pleasant at times, storms of cats and dogs represented most situations more accurately. It was not comforting for the kitchen to be in a different building. All the chilly water kept sticking to my shirt and hair after grabbing breakfast. Maybe, not getting food today would be better than going outside at all; might as well just sit at my computer all day. Again, the sky is gray, so, in the boundaries of my Earth, I only see thunderous clouds. Rain was nicer today, mainly because it let up around 1:30 p.m. While I did go outside on worse days, let’s let the ground dry up and go outside tomorrow. It seems to be another day on my computer. The sky is a light blue. Also, some thinly stretched clouds float high in that sky, so the sun is not too bright. Combined with the pleasant wind, not too fierce, not too gentle, today is certainly an agreeable day to go outside. However, the ground is probably still wet, and I’m tired so when tomorrow comes, surely. Life on the computer is a pleasing one. Once more, the sky is light blue, though a darker shade than yesterday’s. There are no clouds, so the sun is bright but not hot thanks to the strong winds. Usually, I would hear the rustle of the many trees next to my house. Now, I see the pile of trees laying at the bottom of the hill. Bitterness, like dark chocolate, is what burdens my tongue. I’ll brush my teeth again and return to my computer. The sky is blue. Waking up at 4:00 p.m. makes it difficult to judge if it’s blue or light blue though. I probably shouldn’t have stayed up until 5:00 a.m. Regardless, moving right now is a chore and typing right now is exhausting. I don’t want to do it. But, I had to remember the papers given to me over this break. In the next two days, I will do my work and be ready to go back to the office. Right now, sleep is what my body yearns for.

WILLOW (Beat) Do I know you?

RUTH Not that I’m aware of.

(RUTH switches to the bench that WILLOW is atop of. RUTH is dressed for the cold occasion, so she takes off one of her layers and hands it to WILLOW. WILLOW readily accepts the offering.)

Thanks. WILLOW

RUTH I saw a woman stuck in the Boston winter. It’s a part of my nature. I’d like to believe I’m a good-natured woman.

WILLOW (Uncomfortable) Well, you didn’t have to. I think he meant to cancel. He tends to forget these things. (Beat) What time do the ensembles let out?

RUTH Sweetheart, I don’t work here.

WILLOW You said you were quite the familiar.

RUTH It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes or so. It’s already past, but they just keep going. The musicians aren’t as good as they used to be. Not nearly.

WILLOW I’ll wait it out, then.

RUTH I’ll wait with you, then. It can get quite lonely out here, all by yourself. (Beat) A girl with a lesson. What are you here for again?

WILLOW The lesson?

RUTH Don’t be obtuse. What kind of lesson?

WILLOW (Chuckles) It’s absurd. I play for BU. Piano- I play classical piano. I’m a performance major there. Or, somewhat.