Transition: (Final) Day 31 of the Story A Day Challenge

Today, the final day of the challenge, the prompt is to write a story of transition.


The hood of the car dipped under the weight. They leaned back and let the car hold them as they search for shooting stars. Tomorrow she would leave. Tomorrow was a new life, a new person she got to become. She’d miss the creative writing classes and contests. They were part of her childhood, and it was time to put childish things away. She could still write on her own or something if she wanted to.

Her best friend too late tried to show her a falling star. “I hope you made a wish for both of us!” “I wished you would stay. But I know you have to go. Just – Keep in touch.” “Every week. Every day, if I can. You’ll hear from me so often you’ll get sick of me.” “Never.”

Guilt rushed over her. Not from leaving but an unacknowledged wish for a clean and total break from this life. How could she grow and become something if she was tethered here? She supposed she had to stay in touch with her folks, but everyone else was … expendable was the wrong word but she didn’t have another.

A star shot across her part of the sky, barely enough time to wish upon it. May her life be filled with stories. “Did you wish?” “Yeah. “Me too.” Her heart tugged. She would miss this, the close conversations, the person who only asked her to be a friend. But she had to go. This place did not fit her. Too tight, too monochromatic, too dull. She would shine bright, or she would burn out trying.

“We should go. Your not-secret surprise party awaits.” They slid off the hood of the car. The hug was a surprise. Tight and long and comfortable and home between those skinny arms. Her tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I’ll be back a Christmas.” She could only manage a whisper. “But you’ll be different. You’ll have this whole new life that I won’t be a part of.” The hug squeezed tighter.

“I’m gonna miss you.” And that was the release. Without a further look, the person she called her best friend opened the car door and waved her to get in. She wasn’t ready to let go, wanted to watch the stars longer, wanted to be in that hug again. But she got in. Because – she didn’t know why, actually. She just knew that this is what she was supposed to do.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s