Tuesday, September 3, 2013

The Spark

He didn't think it would happen to him. He'd made it this far, and he was sure he would make it farther. Bad things happened to people who thought it had happened… Or to people to whom it had happened too soon.
But he was there. It had happened to him. And it was something that was unavoidable.
There were downsides to this, and he knew that. He knew almost every downside. He was born thanks to some of those downsides… and it was tearing his life apart.
They thought they had loved each other. But they were young. And by the time he was born, it had been too late…
Now he was stuck in a dejected life… If one could call it a life. He often wanted to quit; tear this life away from him; try to start again. Or even give up on life completely. It seemed better. But something always stopped him… a little voice in the back of his head, whispering to him, Don't do it.
But why? he would think. There is nothing for me here. What have I to look forward to?
But he waited… And waited… And waited… Then, she came. His 'something to look forward to'.
Simply calling her a 'thing' was horrible.
She was a spark. Yes; a warm, living flame in a dark, lonely world.
And he found it happening to him. Something he blamed for his sorry excuse of a life. It was a wonderful feeling, actually. And she seemed to share it. One could just tell in her warm smile, the way her eyes softened, just for him. It made the feeling a bit different… Better.
But how did he know it was real? She was young. He was young. Bad things could happen. His life could become more of a hell than it already was.
And now he was sitting next to her, thinking through all this. Neither was saying anything to the other. The world was quiet except for usual night orchestra. Nothing was going to stop them. But still nothing was said. It is harder to talk to someone to whom you feel mutually towards than one might think. It depends on the feeling.
She was the first to speak. "What is your name?"
He was mildly horrified. How was he supposed to reply? Something curled inside him; he wanted to run away. Hide. Forget about this. But none of this he did… "Victor Nicholas Alexander Andrews."
He looked at her, a faint shadow of fear adding another line to his young face. A musical laugh made it disappear almost as soon as it had appeared. "I think I'll just call you Victor."
He smiled nervously. "You can call me anything you like."
She laughed again, and the final shadow of doubt was wiped clean from his mind. As he smiled, a true, genuine smile, slowly cleaning the final shows of fear, wear and despair from his face, he knew… He knew that it had happened to him.
And it was real.

This was my attempt at a romance story... I'm not big on romance, especially by the girl's point of view... But this is what happens when I try my hand at a short story... I'm actually fairly proud of myself.

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