Skip to main content

The Traveler



The skies are grey overhead, the wind a little too cold for this time of year, but the two who sit on the grassy knoll this is the passing of the unnatural. The threat has passed. This is the lingering aftermath.
Still, they can't help but shudder. Not at the biting cold of the wind, which ignores layers of clothing to seize their very bones, but the new memories of the terrible events they both endured, that which they've silently agreed to never speak of again.

She sits between his legs, her back to his stomach. He cradles her, and at this moment he cannot hold her tightly enough, as he knows this moment will eventually come to an end. He closes his eyes, burying his face in her hair and relishing the scent of freshly cut flowers, an aftereffect of her shampoo. Cherishing the moment just as he is, she presses into him, smiles ever so slightly, and closes her eyes.

When she leans forward and exhales, he knows the moment is over, and it is time to face the reality of their actions.
"Did that..." She asks, her voice just above a whisper, "Did that all really just happen?"
"Yes." He replies softly, "Yes, I'm afraid it did."
"Will everything be okay now..." She asks, closing her eyes and leaning into him again. He takes hold of her arms and pulls her close, wishing time would cease its relentless pace for just one moment. "This planet will be..." He replies, looking above to the grey sky, "These people will be...for now, anyway."
"So..." She inquires, turning her beautiful brown eyes up to him, "...where will you go now?"
He smiles. He can't help but smile when he she does, and he used to consider it a weakness. "I don't know." He confesses. "I'm now bound to this planet, so I think I'll explore it."
"The planet is huge." She grins, leaning upon his shoulder so she can look up into his eyes, "Where will you start?"
"North." He answers without hesitation, "What you call Canada. Then I'll head across the seas to this United Kingdom of yours. From there..." He shrugs, shaking his head, "From there, I don't know."
Her smile fades, sadness descends upon her face. He reaches up to caress her cheek, ad she smiles at the gentleness of his touch. "Will you come back?"
He nods, forcing a smile despite being on the verge of emotional collapse. "No." He whispers.
She pauses, stung. "Well...will you at least write to me?" She continues.
He shakes his head. "No, no, I won't."
She frowns, and then smiles, believing he is teasing. "Why not?"
"You misread me." He says, and suddenly the terror of their previous ordeal is nothing compared to the horror seizing his gut. "I would only come back for you, and I won't need to write to you if you're right there with me."
Her first registration is disbelief. "...what?"
"You heard me." He exhales, summoning the last of his courage. "Come with me."

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

America: A True Story About Hatred and Unity

I wanted fast food tonight. That was all. I found myself at Burger King to pick up my wife's order. I was a few cars deep when I spotted the Confederate flag. I surreptitiously snapped a few photos. This was going to be a very different story. When I pull out of Burger King, it turns out there's more than one. In fact, there are four trucks, each flying variations of the flag. I have to go around the front of them to avoid an accident. They're parked right in the middle of the road. As I drive around them, each person in the vehicle makes it a point to ensure I see them. I do. They see me too. When I get to McDonald's (which is in the same lot), I learn that they're not taking debit cards at the moment. Terrific. I wanted chicken nuggets and instead, I get a run-in with the new Confederacy. So I make my way back to Burger King, again appearing in full view of the trucks. I place my order, get it, pay, and pull out. Then one of the

The Long Road Home

I will end you tonight. No, wait. That's not where the story starts. The story starts two and a half years before this, when Michelle (referred to as Michelle for legal reasons because SATAN was too heavily trademarked) reached out to me by Facebook. She mentioned that we played the same Facebook game and she wanted to say hi. I had never, in fact, even heard of the Facebook game. But I was freshly broken out of a relationship and she was pretty with a good body so I said "Hurr, okay." Conversation ensues. She tells me we came up in the same place. We did not come up in the same place. We spent one night in San Francisco talking. But I really wanted to sleep with her. So, "Hurr, okay." Fast forward a few months. I've left Missouri for the beautiful Pacific Northwest. I've settled into the ass end of Lynnwood, a suburb of Seattle. The apartment was so bad that the landlord wrote the mold on the wall off as "crayon coloring

Wave Rocketbook Reviewed

I love writing by hand, and I love notebooks. I'll often devote entire budgets to them and when Officemax has one of their twenty-five cent sales, I'll buy them out. I often draft by hand, finding that the scene comes together more purely when it flows from a pen rather than a keyboard. So when DailyDot advertised a durable new type of notebook that you could use over and over again for the cheap price of twenty-five (thirty after shipping) US Dollars? I'm down. The Wave Rocketbook is meant to be elegant in its design and simple in its execution. The instructions come on the bag itself, and only the pen and notebook are included. The pen feels like any other, so you have to be careful not to mix it into your collection or you will end up marking your notebook with the wrong pen (like I did). The ink is erasable, which is a bonus. A place to put the pen would've been nice, but it clips easily, if not securely, into the ringed binding. The paper is thick and