Post by Arcaness on Feb 5, 2005 14:02:56 GMT -8
One of my more serious, dramatic shortstories. A dollar for the symbolism.
Also, I know some boards don't agree with word's punctuation. Refresh the page and any oddly-placed question-marks may fix themselves. If not, I'll fix it.
So, enough of my rabling. Onto the story:
Dandelions
I'm smiling, so it must be real. Sunlight, leaves, water cold and clear chilling over my feet in just the right way so that the day isn’t hot. And I’m smiling.
You’re crying, but that’s okay, too. Everything is exactly as it should be and that’s it, that’s all.
I’m going away, and that’s fine. That's just fine.
There’s a pool here that forms off a stream and it's just the right temperature for dares. I dare you to keep your feet in. Yeah right, let’s see you keep yours in! Okay... you’re on!
Why are you crying? The day is just perfect, and it’s our last together. So smile, or I’ll only remember you crying, and that’s too cold. I’ll never be warm when I think of you, not ever again, if you don’t smile just now, just right, so that the day is just like it was before I told you.
That's why I didn’t want to tell you I had to leave, because I knew you’d do this. I’ve known for three weeks. You’ve known for three times ten minutes. Take ten from thirty, and that’s how long you thought I was joking for. Stop joking boy, stop it. I’m gonna push you in if you don’t stop it. All right, you asked for it!
Splash, and it’s cold.
You never did believe that I’d go, even though I told you, I said right at the beginning, that I couldn’t stay here. There’s just no way, I said. My parents are going make me grow up, so don’t get too attached. I won’t if you don’t, and we can just have fun, say goodbye, go goodbye, and that’ll be it. It’s over, goodbye. You had to go and get attached, though, you just had to.
The sun is just right here, which is fine by me, and there's not much grass (which is fine by me too). I don’t like grass. It’s boring and wet and full of lumps and if you don’t cut it once a week for your allowance you’ll be broke and you’ll get ticks on your legs when you walk through it and the neighbours will complain. Look at their grass, it’s so long. We take care of ours every day, we’ll have you know, and that’s why it’s so green and short.
But here, it's different. Here there are dandelions that get your clothes all dirty and yellow when you lie down on them, and they look like little suns on the ground. They make me sneeze, too, because my allergy medication hasn’t worked since I started coming here. That’s how my Mother and my Father knew where I was; my nose was all itchy and red and I couldn’t stop sneezing that time I "came back" to find them waiting.
There are the nicest violets here, too. They aren’t wild, just like the dandelions aren’t wild. They’re the ones that people pull out of their gardens and spray out of their yards and replace with daffodils, because violets are weeds.
Violets have pretty flowers, but their leaves are the best. If you look at them under just the right light, the yellow-gray light right after a real good rain, then the leaves are just enough blue and not enough green that you stop and stare and you can just keep staring for minutes that stretch on... until you sneeze.
I’m allergic to flowers. All flowers. That’s why my parents won’t let me have a garden.
The light is always just right here, and I’ve never seen the dandelions on a day they didn’t bloom. The water is--
I can’t feel my toes. But it doesn’t hurt.
You know, I warned you my mother and father would never let me keep coming. But I don’t think you heard me, or you didn’t believe me, or you were so worried that your parents would figure out where you kept running off to (and who you kept running off to) that you didn’t have time to listen. But you never seemed worried, never at all.
I’ve been coming here for three weeks and you were there on that first day, staring and staring until I thought there was something wrong with my face. But I was staring at you, too, so I guess it was one of those mutual things. It’s fine. You can cry but I’m still going, and this is still the last time that I can come, and so I’d really like it if we could do something until I leave, if that’s all right. You still haven’t taught me how to shoot a bow, and I still can’t start a fire without your help.
I want to remember you smiling. If I can only see you crying when I close my eyes it’s not really a memory at all, because I know how to cry just fine. My parents can tell me that you’re just one of those figments that they say I make up, if I can only see you crying. But if you smile, I’ll always know that it really was you. I’m smiling, can’t you see? I’m smiling just fine, so can’t you, please?
I’ve cried enough for all my figments, so smile so I know it’s really you that’s sitting next to me. If you’re really sitting next to me, then I really am here, and I really am sitting with my legs in a pool that forms off a stream, and the sun really is always just right to make the leaves of the violets blue... and I really am where no one’s trying to kill the dandelions just because they can grow without any help.
Come on, let me borrow your bow for awhile. I really want to learn how to shoot, and you said you’d teach me. If I stayed long enough, that’s what you said. But I have to leave, so please, just give me a lesson or something, something quick. I don’t need to be perfect, I just want to know how. I won’t be able to come back, so please understand. This is the last time, so please teach me. I promise I won’t break it, and I’ll try not to get it grubby, and if I miss the target and the arrow goes way off I’ll run and get it before I shoot another. I’ll just keep shooting the same one, so that the worst I can do is mess that one up.
Or you can show me how to catch a fish with twigs. My father goes fishing with his friends sometimes, and maybe I can go too if I’m not useless. Then I can show him that I can catch a fish without using anything... well, anything but a twig. And when he asks me where I learned how, I can tell him about you, and maybe he’ll understand just this once. Please?
I know you’re sad, but I can’t understand why. I know I can’t, because my parents say I can’t understand anything. But please, just one lesson. Anything at all, anything.
How can I keep smiling?
Please, it’s not much longer now. I only want to see your smile, just once. Please, I need to remember you just right. Please, I need to know that this was real, I need to know that I didn’t make this all up. I don’t care if my parents don’t understand, I need this, I need this to be real. It’s beautiful here, and everything is just perfect, and I don’t even care that my allergy medication isn’t working.
They aren’t going to understand otherwise, don’t you see? They don’t understand that I don’t care if I sneeze, they don’t understand that I would like to go to the lake, even if I can’t fish, and they don’t understand that I don’t mind coming here, they don’t understand that I’m not afraid I won’t ever be normal. They don’t understand that you’re real, that all of this is real. Please. I just need to be able to know that this was real, after they take me back, after they stop me from coming back.
I can smile when I’m crying, see? Can’t you? I never said you had to stop crying. I just want to see you smile, I just want to know that this is real.
"You’re not crazy. This is real."
That's it! I'll remember.
Also, I know some boards don't agree with word's punctuation. Refresh the page and any oddly-placed question-marks may fix themselves. If not, I'll fix it.
So, enough of my rabling. Onto the story:
Dandelions
I'm smiling, so it must be real. Sunlight, leaves, water cold and clear chilling over my feet in just the right way so that the day isn’t hot. And I’m smiling.
You’re crying, but that’s okay, too. Everything is exactly as it should be and that’s it, that’s all.
I’m going away, and that’s fine. That's just fine.
There’s a pool here that forms off a stream and it's just the right temperature for dares. I dare you to keep your feet in. Yeah right, let’s see you keep yours in! Okay... you’re on!
Why are you crying? The day is just perfect, and it’s our last together. So smile, or I’ll only remember you crying, and that’s too cold. I’ll never be warm when I think of you, not ever again, if you don’t smile just now, just right, so that the day is just like it was before I told you.
That's why I didn’t want to tell you I had to leave, because I knew you’d do this. I’ve known for three weeks. You’ve known for three times ten minutes. Take ten from thirty, and that’s how long you thought I was joking for. Stop joking boy, stop it. I’m gonna push you in if you don’t stop it. All right, you asked for it!
Splash, and it’s cold.
You never did believe that I’d go, even though I told you, I said right at the beginning, that I couldn’t stay here. There’s just no way, I said. My parents are going make me grow up, so don’t get too attached. I won’t if you don’t, and we can just have fun, say goodbye, go goodbye, and that’ll be it. It’s over, goodbye. You had to go and get attached, though, you just had to.
The sun is just right here, which is fine by me, and there's not much grass (which is fine by me too). I don’t like grass. It’s boring and wet and full of lumps and if you don’t cut it once a week for your allowance you’ll be broke and you’ll get ticks on your legs when you walk through it and the neighbours will complain. Look at their grass, it’s so long. We take care of ours every day, we’ll have you know, and that’s why it’s so green and short.
But here, it's different. Here there are dandelions that get your clothes all dirty and yellow when you lie down on them, and they look like little suns on the ground. They make me sneeze, too, because my allergy medication hasn’t worked since I started coming here. That’s how my Mother and my Father knew where I was; my nose was all itchy and red and I couldn’t stop sneezing that time I "came back" to find them waiting.
There are the nicest violets here, too. They aren’t wild, just like the dandelions aren’t wild. They’re the ones that people pull out of their gardens and spray out of their yards and replace with daffodils, because violets are weeds.
Violets have pretty flowers, but their leaves are the best. If you look at them under just the right light, the yellow-gray light right after a real good rain, then the leaves are just enough blue and not enough green that you stop and stare and you can just keep staring for minutes that stretch on... until you sneeze.
I’m allergic to flowers. All flowers. That’s why my parents won’t let me have a garden.
The light is always just right here, and I’ve never seen the dandelions on a day they didn’t bloom. The water is--
I can’t feel my toes. But it doesn’t hurt.
You know, I warned you my mother and father would never let me keep coming. But I don’t think you heard me, or you didn’t believe me, or you were so worried that your parents would figure out where you kept running off to (and who you kept running off to) that you didn’t have time to listen. But you never seemed worried, never at all.
I’ve been coming here for three weeks and you were there on that first day, staring and staring until I thought there was something wrong with my face. But I was staring at you, too, so I guess it was one of those mutual things. It’s fine. You can cry but I’m still going, and this is still the last time that I can come, and so I’d really like it if we could do something until I leave, if that’s all right. You still haven’t taught me how to shoot a bow, and I still can’t start a fire without your help.
I want to remember you smiling. If I can only see you crying when I close my eyes it’s not really a memory at all, because I know how to cry just fine. My parents can tell me that you’re just one of those figments that they say I make up, if I can only see you crying. But if you smile, I’ll always know that it really was you. I’m smiling, can’t you see? I’m smiling just fine, so can’t you, please?
I’ve cried enough for all my figments, so smile so I know it’s really you that’s sitting next to me. If you’re really sitting next to me, then I really am here, and I really am sitting with my legs in a pool that forms off a stream, and the sun really is always just right to make the leaves of the violets blue... and I really am where no one’s trying to kill the dandelions just because they can grow without any help.
Come on, let me borrow your bow for awhile. I really want to learn how to shoot, and you said you’d teach me. If I stayed long enough, that’s what you said. But I have to leave, so please, just give me a lesson or something, something quick. I don’t need to be perfect, I just want to know how. I won’t be able to come back, so please understand. This is the last time, so please teach me. I promise I won’t break it, and I’ll try not to get it grubby, and if I miss the target and the arrow goes way off I’ll run and get it before I shoot another. I’ll just keep shooting the same one, so that the worst I can do is mess that one up.
Or you can show me how to catch a fish with twigs. My father goes fishing with his friends sometimes, and maybe I can go too if I’m not useless. Then I can show him that I can catch a fish without using anything... well, anything but a twig. And when he asks me where I learned how, I can tell him about you, and maybe he’ll understand just this once. Please?
I know you’re sad, but I can’t understand why. I know I can’t, because my parents say I can’t understand anything. But please, just one lesson. Anything at all, anything.
How can I keep smiling?
Please, it’s not much longer now. I only want to see your smile, just once. Please, I need to remember you just right. Please, I need to know that this was real, I need to know that I didn’t make this all up. I don’t care if my parents don’t understand, I need this, I need this to be real. It’s beautiful here, and everything is just perfect, and I don’t even care that my allergy medication isn’t working.
They aren’t going to understand otherwise, don’t you see? They don’t understand that I don’t care if I sneeze, they don’t understand that I would like to go to the lake, even if I can’t fish, and they don’t understand that I don’t mind coming here, they don’t understand that I’m not afraid I won’t ever be normal. They don’t understand that you’re real, that all of this is real. Please. I just need to be able to know that this was real, after they take me back, after they stop me from coming back.
I can smile when I’m crying, see? Can’t you? I never said you had to stop crying. I just want to see you smile, I just want to know that this is real.
"You’re not crazy. This is real."
That's it! I'll remember.
