Ya, I need more variety in what I post. I know I know. My PSA's are all the same. And this Jesse story was written when I was like 12 or 13 an a lot of the stuff in here sounds like it was written by a 12 year old. But I'm looking for help with the ideas more or less.
Okay now for the story...
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Walking down the cold street towards an empty wooden bench overlooking a cold, seemingly lifeless lake, and without the ferryman Charon to lead the way, Jesse couldn't fight off the feeling of being alone.
Jesse was was behind the bench now, he bent over a picked up a small round black rock and whispered "Styx" to it and threw into the still water, his way of naming this as the place she died to him. To him this place was the Paradise Lost.
Like the river Styx, this place had given Jesse the ability to stand alone, but like most deals with hell, it came at the price of a broken heart.
Jesse stood erect and walked around the bench, letting his hand slide across it's smooth oak top. Standing in front of it, with his back to the lake, he looked at the brass plaque screwed to the center of the backrest. It read:
"Dedicated In Loving
Memory of
Kayla Nicole"
Beneath the plaque, scribbled in a heart drawn in permanent marker were the words "Helly+Jess"
He inhaled deeply like it was possible to suck the memories he had of this place out of the air, drawing what this freshly renamed lake had seen in through his nose to stick to his brain like flies on adhesive paper. Memories.
***
How she used to stare at the plaque until one day she said "Kayla must have been the sweetest girl."
"whys that?" Jesse asked, confused by the oddity of the statement.
"Well think about it, Jess, What kind of person asks to have a bench put in a practically abandoned park as a dieing request?"
"I don't know, maybe she liked it here so she wanted a piece of herself here forever."
"If that was the case she'd be buried here with a sign that said 'Get The Hell Off The Grass'. No, she was a real sweetheart who gave up her money to put this bench here so you and I could sit here. I bet she was really pretty" Helena added the last part as an afterthought.
Jesse looked into her eyes and asked, "do I even have to say it?" and they both smiled at their inside joke.
***
Jesse sat down on the bench, he put his left arm over the backrest and looked down at his lap where her head used to lay.
He sat there for a few minutes, or maybe hours, time really didn't have any meaning to him now. He wasn't thinking about Adam, who was probably in the hospital getting sewn up to the extent of a torn up rag doll who'd gone through a desperate attempt to be saved with some needle and thread. The thought of Adam never crossed his mind.
What did cross his mind was John, the backstabbing accomplice to his emotional homicide. He had laid down his hand of cards when Jesse was looking the other way. And by the time Jesse turned back, his chest was open and his heart was lifeless on the floor with "his and her" sets of footprints on it.
But it didn't matter how it happened, she was with him now, and it was all Jesse could do to stop himself from praying to God to change the past and let it have been John who touched his shoulder asking for a fight. But the promise he wore around his neck was one he couldn't break. Anything Jesse did to John, he did to Helena as well.
Something interrupted his contemplating, it was a pay phone, off to his left. He looked over and saw the lighthouse, its light spinning up in the clouds, leading ships away from danger. Jesse counted; two rings, four rings, five...
Jesse got up and ran to the phone, towards the lighthouse, like a ship heading for a rocky bluff that couldn't stop, something was pulling him in. The dew was setting on the grass and started seeping through his shoes, dampening his feet. He got to the phone and stared. He reached out and placed his hand on the receiver, but it was too late, it had stopped ringing.
He put his head down, wondering what or who he might have missed on the other end of the line.
The phone started to ring again and Jesse stared. The black phone was more intimidating than God at that moment, it was like a baby crying alone in the night. Do you ignore its cries or stay and try to help?
He clasped his hand around the cold receiver and brought it to his face. Through his fear and apprehension he managed to choke out a faint "Hello...?"
Chapter---
