to my love,
i woke up to the sound of gunshots today, i stumbled out of my room, clutching my crescent pendant with my trembling fingers. i ran out to the garden, but everything was eerily quiet. everybody was asleep, tucked inside the comfort of their homes, there were no blue and red sirens either. i think i must have heard the gunshot in my dreams.
when i told my parents about hearing gunshots, they looked at each other with pursed lips and concerned eyes. they told me not to worry which was quite ironic since they seemed to be more perplexed than me. i think the gunshots mean something, maybe something metaphorical. i read somewhere that our dreams may not always be literal, they are just extended metaphors of our cruel reality.
i still wonder why don't you reply. did i do something so heinous that you can't even write a single word to me? it feels like someone has put an obsidian cloak over my ocean gray eyes and all i can see is an infinite chasm of black; but then there is you, the phosphene of my darkness.
come back please.
-
a/n
even though the gunshots maybe an obvious indicator about what happened, to you and me, the narrator of this story is in a state of absolute denial. her brain has gone to an extent of forgetting the memories bc it couldn't cope with it, so it will be difficult for her to realize what happened<3
YOU ARE READING
to my dearest darling |✓
Short Story❝your honeyed velvet voice still echoes in the hollows of my bones❞ in which a girl suffers from amnesia due to the traumatic aftermath of a school shooting and writes letters to the only person she remembers through all the chaos. [weekly updates] ...
