Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Needle of Hope: Another Short Story

I did have a wonderful time out tonight, listening to the very talented and smooth songs of Nathan Holley. Below is another fictional short story I've been working on for the past few days. Hope you enjoy it. It does deal with some hard things in life, but like most of my stories- there is hope to be found. Have a lovely evening guys and enjoy the read!

Needle of Hope

He braced himself against the dark of the concrete wall, crouched down with his legs slightly apart and his head hanging in between them with his hands on top as if to cradle the pain away. The alley was dark, wet with acrid smells. Just less than a half foot away from him laid the needle and all the contraband that went with it. The memories of what it would feel like if he just gave in one last time nearly suffocated him with desire. There was no greater feeling. Nothing more powerful to block out the pains.

He shook his head violently, pleading with himself to not touch it again as he began to rock back and forth. The shaking spread to the rest of his body, he didn’t know if he had the strength to resist it. The temptation was so strong. But he knew, deep down he knew that it would not cure his empty heart of its suffering. The best it did was numb it. A mind blowing numbness that he wished with all his heart that he had never known. Wished he had never sunk so low as to even think to touch the foul stuff. Was there nothing worth more than his aching need to pump himself full of the poison?

A picture flashed in his head.

She had had long honey brown ponytails. Her barefeet had been dancing on his one foot as he had held on to her tiny hands. He’d put on some soul and watch her eyes gleam wide as she rush up to dance with her daddy. Such beautiful brown eyes. Like a chocolate drop had been placed in the very centers of her soul. She was the sweetest thing He’d ever known and she had adored him.

Not many fathers got to say that about their little girls. He’d bring home a Hershey kiss every night and drop it in her hands, even as her mother looked on unapproving of his actions. But he was rewarded with the biggest smile and sparkling eyes. He’d whisper softly to her as he bent down to hug her, “Daddy loves you more than anything in the world princess.” She had been 4 and a half then. And he never stopped bringing her home kisses, even the day when she was gone.

They had looked and looked for her. The whole town had looked for her. She was no where to be seen or heard. His whole soul had cried out in agony and frustration at the loss. Who…who? Who would dare take his princess from him?

The very center of his universe. Gone.

In his remembrance of her just then, he’d failed to notice the tears. For too long he’d tried to force her face from his minds eye. For too long he’d forgotten why he had lived. She had taught him to live. He continued to rock back and forth. Shaking his head in the pain. He should not have forgotten her.

Then without knowing why, he reached absentmindly in his pocket. And, there in his pocket was a Hershey kiss. Had he put it there? It was a bit mushed from being in there for god knows how long, but it was her kiss. He held the marvel in his hands. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

He looked over at the needle waiting for his deft hands to puncture his skin. Shakily he stood up. This was not how she would want her daddy to live. Staring at the Hershey kiss like he’d found home again, he took in a gulp of air and on weakened limbs-walked away from the needle without so much as looking back. He then brought the small candy to his lips to kiss her memory.

His love for her was stronger than anything else- including the fix. He didn’t need it anymore.

3 comments:

Shadow said...

damn this is good!

SarahA said...

Lovely words, you. Really!

findingmywingsinlife said...

Shadow,
I knew you would read this one! Thank you, I really wasn't sure how people would take this one. I'm glad you liked it!

SarahA,
Thank you. That means alot to me to know that others like my writings.