Chapter 2 - Waiting: Part I, Lamppost
Submitted January 13, 2008 Updated April 6, 2010 Status Incomplete | Okay, so, the other day I was thinking (scary, huh?). I have no way to share my short stories other than creating a story thing for each. why not just have one whole 'story' for short stories? so, here we are. Just Because.
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Chapter 2 - Waiting: Part I, Lamppost
Chapter 2 - Waiting: Part I, Lamppost
Waiting: Part I, Lamppost
Under the lamplight, the rain flowing over her umbrella, the sky thundering in anger or sadness, stood a young woman, alone, just waiting perhaps. No one else was around; no one else would witness her death. She stood, watching the silent road, watching the dark silhouette. The silhouette never moved, never breathed, never made a sound. There, in the night, it stood, beckoning to passersby.
But the only one about tonight, the only one drawn, was the young woman, waiting, with her umbrella overhead.
The silhouette beckoned her, urged her to come over, urged to come forward. The woman glanced around her, conflicted. She was waiting, but for what, the silhouette knew not. Yet, the woman came anyways. She stepped forward, hesitant at first. As her foot touched the muddy pavement, she grew in confidence, and strode with pride towards the dark silhouette.
As she reached the rail of the silhouette, she knew it was a bridge overlooking a raging river. But the thunderclaps deafened the river's waves, and the woman knew not the river's rage.
Again, she stepped forward.
"You are nothing," the wind howled.
"A waste of oxygen," the rain pattered.
"Nothing at all," the thunder roared.
"No one will miss you," the river raged.
And she believed. She gripped the rail with her free hand and looked below. All she saw was a flowing river. Slowly, she released her umbrella, letting the wind rip it from her grasp. As the rain poured over her brow, she squeezed past the rail and stood, holding the rail behind her. And then she fell. Just as she hit the water, a car pulled up to the lamppost and a bright, deafening stroke of lightning hit where she'd been standing, waiting perhaps, under the lamplight.
Under the lamplight, the rain flowing over her umbrella, the sky thundering in anger or sadness, stood a young woman, alone, just waiting perhaps. No one else was around; no one else would witness her death. She stood, watching the silent road, watching the dark silhouette. The silhouette never moved, never breathed, never made a sound. There, in the night, it stood, beckoning to passersby.
But the only one about tonight, the only one drawn, was the young woman, waiting, with her umbrella overhead.
The silhouette beckoned her, urged her to come over, urged to come forward. The woman glanced around her, conflicted. She was waiting, but for what, the silhouette knew not. Yet, the woman came anyways. She stepped forward, hesitant at first. As her foot touched the muddy pavement, she grew in confidence, and strode with pride towards the dark silhouette.
As she reached the rail of the silhouette, she knew it was a bridge overlooking a raging river. But the thunderclaps deafened the river's waves, and the woman knew not the river's rage.
Again, she stepped forward.
"You are nothing," the wind howled.
"A waste of oxygen," the rain pattered.
"Nothing at all," the thunder roared.
"No one will miss you," the river raged.
And she believed. She gripped the rail with her free hand and looked below. All she saw was a flowing river. Slowly, she released her umbrella, letting the wind rip it from her grasp. As the rain poured over her brow, she squeezed past the rail and stood, holding the rail behind her. And then she fell. Just as she hit the water, a car pulled up to the lamppost and a bright, deafening stroke of lightning hit where she'd been standing, waiting perhaps, under the lamplight.
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