the short story project


Forever Alone- A Random Excerpt

It’s 1760.
She’s seen it all. The bloody war of the Revolutionary War, front seats. She used to have flowing black raven hair, the sharpest mind, and the kindest hands, that heal the worst of the war’s wounds. But she is a once-girl. Her hair is no longer black, but a fading grey and white, she’s lost her wits, and her hands, trembling too much to hold even the lightest feather. The once-girl stares at the sunset, a woman now, a grandmother if she had children who had children. But the once-girl, despite the many that showed up to her house, only has one visitor now, the nurse that helps her live for moments longer.
That once-girl, still holds onto the once-boy, through her fading memories and vibrant dreams. He’s what she holds onto, waiting for the day, she’ll see him again. She knows that boy lives in 2045, a future she no longer remembers, but she does know she loves him.
But that day doesn’t come without a price. She knows, when that day comes, she won’t be here anymore.
For now, she watching the sunset with foggy eyes, dreaming of that once-boy with love. And then, she takes her last breath, breathing in the air that burns her lungs with longing.

It’s 2078.
He’s rich now, standing on the platform of the paradise he built for her with striking colors or kites that soar the air with precision. A black box sits on the side of his desk, it hasn’t been opened in years without whispers of sadness. He holds out for that once-girl, who taught him many things he would never forget. He remembers her still through his dreams, the things he holds on the dearest. His hands are weak and old, but he would still wage infinite wars for her. He opens it the last time, touching the ring gently, it’s shining with its diamond at the center, it’s king. The utopia is something he wishes for her to see one day, see the things she prayed for right in front of her eyes.
He loves the once-girl that he will never see again. The sun rises, lighting the ground with orange and red. The air is clean, his suit crisp, sitting at his table. His fading hair is white, it’s color leaching out of his hair, his skin, his mind. He waits for the day when the sun no longer rises, he waits for death.
It’s where he’s going to marry her.
That’s his last thought.

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