Get Your Premium Membership

Dangling Hopes


He wasn't just my friend but also my trend to bliss untold. Our love was like a boiling pot; ever hot, never void of joy, oneness and affection so thick. We had almost everything in common,  saved our sex and age. Although our story of love, glow and glory lasted for just three years, like a tree, memories of him remains deeply rooted in me. I never knew that the morning he left was the last time I would see him. That day, I had waited and waited until hot hopes turned cold. I can remember running to the door at every knock; as I staggered back to the couch as fast as my little legs could,  after seeing it wasn't him at the door. It was already dark, past the time he used to arrive from work, yet he never showed up.  I waited and waited in the bosom of uncertainty; sipping into the stream of hope until every drop turned dry. Suddenly! A knock came softly at the door. That was the knock that led to the shrinking of my hopes. My eyes searched as men in black walked in, not with him but with his robe and wig. Yes,  he was a barrister. He had gone to court for a case previously adjourned. They said he had an accident. Father was gone and so was a huge part of me. He brought me into the world, but the world took him from me; leaving me with a stained spirit. In regards to the fact that I was so little then, the phenomenon of death was like a tale to me. Initially, my hopes were shot high by the prattle words of 'him returning'. I waited and waited till my ceramic heart turned stone and my fleshy being turned bone. Prior to that time, my mother and I were like 'Tom and Jerry' but as an only child, the absence of my father made me cherish her presence. Her loud silence pierced through my pain, gradually melting it with words of gold which damages ignorance. The ignorance of hoping that one day my father would knock on the door with a smile hugging his face as tightly as I would have hugged him. It's been sixteen years down the slippery aisle I saw him last. Sixteen years of wasted smiles. Sixteen years of decayed love. Sixteen years of a cracked silence and sixteen years of trying to stay strong; not just for myself but my jewel; my mother. My first love lasted for just the first three years of my life. Right now, the word 'father' is a stranger to my lips but thoughts of him would remain indigenes of my heart.

Comments

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this short story. Encourage a writer by being the first to comment.