ok I've started writing this short story, and it's not quite done yet. So please enjoy ^_^
Death is a strange thing. It's something we know, think and talk about. People talk about it like an everyday thing, thinking they understand it. I remember my friends and I telling each other about it, like we really understood it. I’m positive that we each thought we completely and fully knew it that Death was something easy for us and just us to comprehend. Personally back than, I was convinced that I was more wise and a better being; though now, I realize how diluted and smug I was. One day I learned that I was nothing more than a helpless maggot, unable to grasp the ugly, yet beautiful truth of death.
That certain day was nothing more than just a normal day in May. There wasn’t anything special about that day, aside from the fact that the plum trees were in bloom. The memory of their white flowers with a tint of pink to their petals is still fresh in my mind today. To this day, I can still remember the sweet scent that radiated from them. A smell that was different from anything else, nothing smelt quite like those blossoms, and even now flowers from the same tree do not smell anything likes those plum blossoms did that particular day. And, I’m sure I will ever find a scent like it ever again.
It’s kinda funny thing, memories. I remember the exact color and smell of those blossoms, and yet I can’t even remember why I was at the park that day. Perhaps I was heading out for a jog, or I may had been bored just sitting on my couch. The reason doesn’t really matter, what does is the fact I was at the park that day, at that important moment. Sometimes now, I wake up wondering if things would have been different if I had been late, or I had been lazy and decided to take a nap instead. I hate those nights. Once I start wondering, soon I find myself regretting everything; my brother once said ‘once you start regretting things like that [death], you’ll loose hope about life’. Those words brought a strange comfort to me, even on the nights when I wake up screaming.
Those thoughts aside, the unchangeable thing was that I was there. Even with those doubts, I know that there was nothing I can do to alter that day.
There was nothing to indicate that anything obscene would happen. That day, as I remember, had been perfect. The weather was abnormally nice that day, and only a few fluffy white clouds dotted the sky. The temperature was somewhat hot, but a cool gentle breeze existed, so it was bearable. Along with the breeze, sitting in the shade of the plum tree, I had found it to be comfortable.
The next thing I recall was him. The boy. James E. Ryan, a name I would learn after that day. The sight of him still makes me blush today. James E. Ryan was a beautiful boy. He seemed to be not a day over seventeen. His short shaggy blond hair that resembled long strands of golden wheat, James’ eyes were a piercing dark royal blue mixed with light silvery grey.
His sparkling compassionate eyes met with mine, and a sudden ray of sunlight cascaded him with a warm light. James’ softly tanned skin glowed. To me, it seemed like he was a shining idol. What I witness was utterly stunning. It was not what I had expected.
Smiling brightly at me, my face turned red. He was the most gorgeous thing I will ever see, and it flustered me. I looked away.
Next, I heard the sound of distance thunder. It was odd; the sound of thunder rang in my ears. The bright blue sky, and dry air added to my confusion. I was curious to why there had been thunder during that fine day.
I barely glanced over, and I could just see it through the corner of my eye. The sight of a dark crimson liquid splatter on the dark green grass; looking over, James was slouching, and something about his posture seemed off. His smile had faded, and was replaced with a relaxed frown. I stared into his eyes and he stared right back at me. James’ sparkling eyes were abruptly a dull and hollow blue, like he turned dumb and was empty inside.
The sight of red, gold, tan, peach, blue and silver colliding together had a strange abstract look. An almost supernatural mix of different colors, I felt an eerie calmness from admiring him.
The red liquid trickled down his forehead from a small hole just above his brow. At the time I didn’t know what was happening, but I had a strange feeling that I shouldn’t had been looking; like it was forbidden. I looked away, but the urge to watch him was so demanding. A strange temptation, which gnawed away at me, I thought I would go insane if I didn’t look. But I didn’t want to It was like an internal clash of contradicting emotions.
I finally gave in and looked once more. More red liquid was pouring down his face, tainting his fair skin. He was hunched over, and he somehow was still able to keep standing. I remember the strange feeling, like we would just stare at each other forever. The aching feeling of a nervous tension raced through my body, and I endured a strange agonizing pain. I was so afraid if it would continue on like this. I opened my mouth, and screamed as loud as I could to break that tension. All of my uncertainty was released, I kept screaming even as the tears forced their way out, and as James E. Ryan crashed against the ground.
