Don't Let Go
I sat on the windowsill, my knees tug tightly to my chest, my hands gripping
each other, perhaps saying ‘don’t let go!’. Then her voice echoed in my head.
Her last words to me ‘don’t let go’.
Something moved behind me. Or is a reflection from my imagination? My longing
for her to be here has made me paranoid. Never sleeping at night with the fear
if her creeping up on me while I’m sleeping.
Movement again. This time I see something in the window. Something white
gliding around my bedroom. But I wasn’t sure what I saw. It looked like a fold
of a skirt. Or could it just be a triangle floating around?
I caught it again. This time a full semi-circle of a movement, like a half
turn when she was showing of her new dress. I close my eyes and shake my head.
I was imagining it, I told myself.
Then the movement happened once more. But it was closer. A little too close.
I felt the tiny breeze against my bare arm when it moved. I’m not sure if it was
reassuring or not. Was it meant to be?
My eyes are still close and yet I saw a pair of eyes looking at me. Two
bright green eyes. Then I felt fingers slowly wrapping themselves around my arm.
Gently though. A movement I came to love, before things came to an end.
My hands wanted to ease their hold with each other, but I told them don’t
let go. The green eyes grew even brighter, even wider. Like they were
surprised.
I held my breath when I felt a tongue run across my lips. This is crazy,
I told myself, you’re torturing yourself, why?
Yes. Why? But perhaps this is all real. Perhaps I am not torturing myself.
Perhaps she’s here. Or am I dreaming? O still awake and imagining this is
happening? But if I am dreaming, or imagining, why does everything feel so real?
Her fingers on my arms, her tongue on my lips. All the right pressure for it to
be real.
I let myself breathe again and slowly opened my eyes.
I am met with a transparent young girl. Her silver hair had a gentle curl and
went pass her breasts. Her face was child like. Her nose a little small and
rounded. Her lips are thin, just like they have been drawn on her. And her eyes.
Her green eyes are small and round, the green acted as if it is dotted in place
just to give her a little colour.
She is sitting on the window sill with me, her elbows resting on my knees,
her chin resting on her hands. And she starred at me. Like she was sending a
message through our minds. And I look at her. And smile.
My hands unclasp each other and I reach for her face. Then I stop. She is
translucent, surely my hand would go straight through her. Yet, she is able to
touch me. So maybe? Slowly I put my hand on her cheek. It stayed there. She
smiled.
“I’m here.” She said. Her voice was soft and yet it echoed around the room,
as if there is nothing in here.
I didn’t know how to respond. I kept my hand on her cheek and kept smiling.
Then her hand ran itself through my hair. Rather, over it. Since her death
I’ve had my hair short. I was even tempted to shave it of. But I resisted.
Her hand trailed down my neck and I close my eyes. I wanted to feel her
touch, to treasure it. I wanted to remember her trail across my body. I didn’t
want this to end. I don’t want to let go.
Her fingers started to play with my shirt collar, while her other hand dealt
with the buttons. My hand dropped from her cheek and I took hold of her wrist.
I open my eyes and saw she is smiling. At first it was sweet. But I had to look
deeper. There was a hidden message. I pull her hand away from the buttons and
she took the message. Her hand dropped from shirt collar.
“Big mistake.” She said. Her tone dark, full of warning.
I smile at her wickedly. “I’m not as stupid as you always thought I was
Isabella.” I said coldly. “I’m not blaming myself for your death.”
“But you miss me.” Isabella whipped her wrist out of my hold.
“And if I didn’t know your real intentions of being here tonight, I would
allow this to continue. But it all stops now.”
“You fool.”
She moved her head from side to side very slowly as she moved closer. Her
hands are on either side of my legs and she crawled up my knees.
“Leave it Isabella.” I said. I used enough force behind my tone to make her
stop. And she did.
“Fine Andrew. Have it your way.” She hissed.
She pushed herself away from me and glided away from the windowsill. She
stopped and turned to face me. This time her face was sad. Somewhat apologetic.
But I didn’t buy it. I turned my eyes to the window and watch the sun as it
began to raise.
“Don’t let go Andrew.” Isabella whispered as she slowly faded away. “Don’t
let go.”
The End.
each other, perhaps saying ‘don’t let go!’. Then her voice echoed in my head.
Her last words to me ‘don’t let go’.
Something moved behind me. Or is a reflection from my imagination? My longing
for her to be here has made me paranoid. Never sleeping at night with the fear
if her creeping up on me while I’m sleeping.
Movement again. This time I see something in the window. Something white
gliding around my bedroom. But I wasn’t sure what I saw. It looked like a fold
of a skirt. Or could it just be a triangle floating around?
I caught it again. This time a full semi-circle of a movement, like a half
turn when she was showing of her new dress. I close my eyes and shake my head.
I was imagining it, I told myself.
Then the movement happened once more. But it was closer. A little too close.
I felt the tiny breeze against my bare arm when it moved. I’m not sure if it was
reassuring or not. Was it meant to be?
My eyes are still close and yet I saw a pair of eyes looking at me. Two
bright green eyes. Then I felt fingers slowly wrapping themselves around my arm.
Gently though. A movement I came to love, before things came to an end.
My hands wanted to ease their hold with each other, but I told them don’t
let go. The green eyes grew even brighter, even wider. Like they were
surprised.
I held my breath when I felt a tongue run across my lips. This is crazy,
I told myself, you’re torturing yourself, why?
Yes. Why? But perhaps this is all real. Perhaps I am not torturing myself.
Perhaps she’s here. Or am I dreaming? O still awake and imagining this is
happening? But if I am dreaming, or imagining, why does everything feel so real?
Her fingers on my arms, her tongue on my lips. All the right pressure for it to
be real.
I let myself breathe again and slowly opened my eyes.
I am met with a transparent young girl. Her silver hair had a gentle curl and
went pass her breasts. Her face was child like. Her nose a little small and
rounded. Her lips are thin, just like they have been drawn on her. And her eyes.
Her green eyes are small and round, the green acted as if it is dotted in place
just to give her a little colour.
She is sitting on the window sill with me, her elbows resting on my knees,
her chin resting on her hands. And she starred at me. Like she was sending a
message through our minds. And I look at her. And smile.
My hands unclasp each other and I reach for her face. Then I stop. She is
translucent, surely my hand would go straight through her. Yet, she is able to
touch me. So maybe? Slowly I put my hand on her cheek. It stayed there. She
smiled.
“I’m here.” She said. Her voice was soft and yet it echoed around the room,
as if there is nothing in here.
I didn’t know how to respond. I kept my hand on her cheek and kept smiling.
Then her hand ran itself through my hair. Rather, over it. Since her death
I’ve had my hair short. I was even tempted to shave it of. But I resisted.
Her hand trailed down my neck and I close my eyes. I wanted to feel her
touch, to treasure it. I wanted to remember her trail across my body. I didn’t
want this to end. I don’t want to let go.
Her fingers started to play with my shirt collar, while her other hand dealt
with the buttons. My hand dropped from her cheek and I took hold of her wrist.
I open my eyes and saw she is smiling. At first it was sweet. But I had to look
deeper. There was a hidden message. I pull her hand away from the buttons and
she took the message. Her hand dropped from shirt collar.
“Big mistake.” She said. Her tone dark, full of warning.
I smile at her wickedly. “I’m not as stupid as you always thought I was
Isabella.” I said coldly. “I’m not blaming myself for your death.”
“But you miss me.” Isabella whipped her wrist out of my hold.
“And if I didn’t know your real intentions of being here tonight, I would
allow this to continue. But it all stops now.”
“You fool.”
She moved her head from side to side very slowly as she moved closer. Her
hands are on either side of my legs and she crawled up my knees.
“Leave it Isabella.” I said. I used enough force behind my tone to make her
stop. And she did.
“Fine Andrew. Have it your way.” She hissed.
She pushed herself away from me and glided away from the windowsill. She
stopped and turned to face me. This time her face was sad. Somewhat apologetic.
But I didn’t buy it. I turned my eyes to the window and watch the sun as it
began to raise.
“Don’t let go Andrew.” Isabella whispered as she slowly faded away. “Don’t
let go.”
The End.