Categories > Original > Romance
One Night Is All It Takes, Darling.
Alright, so I wrote this for a class final, in one night, and I must say it's my best short story. Please know this is my original work so no sticky paws, please! :) It took me a month of thi...
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One Night Is All It Takes, Darling.
Short Story.
Elizabeth Hilario.
Pd6.
Class Final.
Samantha awoke to the sounds of screams. She opened her eyes, startled, and got to her feet, and realized that the screams were from her mother. Samantha opened the door to the room, and came face to face with clouds of black smoke. Her heart began to race as reality sunk in. She heard the screaming continue.
"Mom?!" she yelled. No answer. She started to freak out and it was then she was greeted by a fireman. He approached a shaking, fragile Samantha.
"It's okay, I'm a fireman, I'm Jason, you'll be fine, just come with me." he said in a soothing voice. He took Samantha by the hand and helped her down the stairs, out of the house as soon as they could. Once outside, Samantha turned to Jason;
"Thank you, but I need to know where my mother is!" she said, tears in her eyes. Jason gulped as if he had just swallowed tar.
"Miss, you're the only survivor." he said, slowly, as he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry." he added in what was more than a whisper. Suddenly everything going on around her, the fire trucks, the ambulances, the media, Jason, the other firefighters hosing down the house, all of it suddenly blurred into one big, ugly reality. She stared at the ground, realizing what this meant. She was now, truly alone. She missed the way her kid brother would bug her. She missed the way her Mother would wake her up. She missed having them there. Samantha, seventeen, alone.
In the next few days, the media did their best to get a hold of Samantha, but she stayed at her cousin's her for the time being. She had received more calls in those days than she had ever received in her life. They all began the same; "Samantha, hey, you alright?" or the ever-so-frustrating; "Samantha, I heard what happened, I'm sorry." It was more frustrating knowing these people just wanted to see her break down; they didn't really care. She recalled how much she would bitch about her mother and her little brother, Corey, but at this time she would do anything to see them again. Samantha, seventeen, foster child.
Her father had died when she was thirteen. He was on his way to the office, her mother told her, placing a trembling hand on Samantha's tiny shoulder, when the drunk driver struck. She swore she had never seen her mother so upset in her life. Those next few years had been hell for them.
Now she had lost it all. She only had her cousin, and she was barely making enough for herself, how was she to care for Samantha, too? "I can get a job." Samantha suggested, the first night they sat at dinner; canned soup and crackers; the usual.
"Sammie, there's no good jobs around here for a seventeen year old, sweetie you have to go to school." Ella had told her. Samantha thought she had lost it. How was she to go back to school when she just suffered something so tragic? Ella had no idea of the guilt deep in Samantha's heart. It wasn't the typical "I never got to say goodbye.", but more of "It was my fault." She blamed herself.
On the night of the accident, she recalled wanting to sleep in her mother's room, seeing as it was cooler. Her mother had said no, but gave in after Samantha made a fuss about it. They had switched rooms. Samantha knew it was her fault. Her room was closest to the kitchen, where their candle fell over and ignited the whole place. If she hadn't made a fuss, it would have been her who had fried to a crisp. Not her beautiful mother and little brother. She hated herself so much and promised she would never forgive herself.
Everyday she would wake up telling herself she was a horrible person. Ella had begun to worry about her. She didn't know if Samantha was going to make it. She had placed her on anti-depressants but even that didn't do it for her.
One day, Samantha was outside, walking around like she usually did. She couldn't handle being inside crying anymore. It lead to thinking too much, and when she thought too much her thoughts would lead to things like swallowing the whole contents of the anti-depressants bottle. Her eyes were always red and puffy, that's what daily crying does to you. She had stopped attending school. She had stopped talking to her friends. She had stopped sleeping. She had stopped being a person. Samantha, seventeen, pathetic.
She sat on the swing at the local park, thinking. She knew she shouldn't be thinking, or even out this late, but she was. That's what she did. Think. She once again thought about how swallowing the contents of the anti-depressants bottle would feel, when she heard a voice. A subtle, masculine, but soothing voice. "Are you alright?" he had asked. She turned to see a boy right next to her. Standing. She couldn't see him very well, but she could tell he was worried, concerned. She shook her head. "What's it to you?" she asked, shaking a bit. She was sick of randoms asking her this. They boy looked taken aback.
"It's a simple question. Are you alright?" he said, determined. She sighed, and turned to him.
"You're not going to give up, are you?" she asked, as he sat in the swing next to her. She heard him chuckle as he shook his head.
"What's going on?" he asked. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to tell him everything. So she did. She told him it was her fault. She told him about the contents of the bottle. About how she continuously thought about ending her life. She told him about everything. He shook his head.
"There's so much more to life you have yet to see." he said, and through the shadows of his face she could see a smile.
"It seems so easy to you, doesn't it? I can't do that." she replied, kicking her feet a bit. His smile didn't fade.
"Give me one night, and I'll show you there's more to it than this." he said, standing up. Samantha stood up as well. "Are you crazy? We have just met. I don't know your name, you don't know mine." she said, putting her hands on her waist. He just kept smiling.
"Does it matter? You just told me everything there is to know about you, at this moment. Names aren't important right now." He said. He had a point. Samantha thought about it for a bit.
He wasn't going anywhere. She sighed, and saw his hand outstretched to her, anticipating the feel of her tiny fingers upon his. "What have you got to lose? Give me one night to prove you wrong." he said, and with that she placed her hand in his, and he began to lead her to his special spot, he said, it was the rooftop to an old house. "I come here when I need to realize life's great." he said to her, as they sat next to each other, looking up at the night sky. Samantha had never felt so amazing.
He told her about all his problems. About his life. About him. He never uttered his name. He said to him, names weren't half as important as the story behind the person. He said that if it was up to him, we wouldn't have names and we'd all just share our stories when people would ask; "Who are you?" He told her about his dreams, aspirations, his failures, his accomplishments, his desires, everything. Samantha found herself looking into a waking sky.
He told her it wasn't her fault. It was an accident, she didn't know it was going to happen. He said she was beautiful, that her soul was one of the prettiest thing he had seen. He told her that if he ever were to know her name, he knew it was beautiful, too. "Tulip," he said, "I'll call you tulip." He had proven her wrong. Her life wasn't as bad as she made it. She didn't need those anti-depressants, she had him. The guy who called her Tulip. She secretly declared him her soul mate. As the sun rose, they went off and walked, hand in hand to Samantha's house, where her soul mate was allowed to stay. In the process he had told her he had no home. She felt guilty for knowing she had it better.
When Ella had asked who he was, he said "Names don't matter. It's the story behind the person." Ella didn't understand, but she saw how happy and understanding Samantha had suddenly become. Samantha led her soul mate to their spare room, where he would be staying, right next to her room. She admitted, the apartment didn't look as bad anymore. Not with her soul mate there.
Everyday, she would walk around with him, hand in hand, connected. Everyday she felt a bit better. Everyday she realized even though she had lost two amazing people, she had gained another amazing person. They say things happen for a reason, and as cruel as it seems to think about maybe there was a reason for the tragedy. Maybe it was to meet him.
Samantha, seventeen, complete.
Short Story.
Elizabeth Hilario.
Pd6.
Class Final.
Samantha awoke to the sounds of screams. She opened her eyes, startled, and got to her feet, and realized that the screams were from her mother. Samantha opened the door to the room, and came face to face with clouds of black smoke. Her heart began to race as reality sunk in. She heard the screaming continue.
"Mom?!" she yelled. No answer. She started to freak out and it was then she was greeted by a fireman. He approached a shaking, fragile Samantha.
"It's okay, I'm a fireman, I'm Jason, you'll be fine, just come with me." he said in a soothing voice. He took Samantha by the hand and helped her down the stairs, out of the house as soon as they could. Once outside, Samantha turned to Jason;
"Thank you, but I need to know where my mother is!" she said, tears in her eyes. Jason gulped as if he had just swallowed tar.
"Miss, you're the only survivor." he said, slowly, as he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry." he added in what was more than a whisper. Suddenly everything going on around her, the fire trucks, the ambulances, the media, Jason, the other firefighters hosing down the house, all of it suddenly blurred into one big, ugly reality. She stared at the ground, realizing what this meant. She was now, truly alone. She missed the way her kid brother would bug her. She missed the way her Mother would wake her up. She missed having them there. Samantha, seventeen, alone.
In the next few days, the media did their best to get a hold of Samantha, but she stayed at her cousin's her for the time being. She had received more calls in those days than she had ever received in her life. They all began the same; "Samantha, hey, you alright?" or the ever-so-frustrating; "Samantha, I heard what happened, I'm sorry." It was more frustrating knowing these people just wanted to see her break down; they didn't really care. She recalled how much she would bitch about her mother and her little brother, Corey, but at this time she would do anything to see them again. Samantha, seventeen, foster child.
Her father had died when she was thirteen. He was on his way to the office, her mother told her, placing a trembling hand on Samantha's tiny shoulder, when the drunk driver struck. She swore she had never seen her mother so upset in her life. Those next few years had been hell for them.
Now she had lost it all. She only had her cousin, and she was barely making enough for herself, how was she to care for Samantha, too? "I can get a job." Samantha suggested, the first night they sat at dinner; canned soup and crackers; the usual.
"Sammie, there's no good jobs around here for a seventeen year old, sweetie you have to go to school." Ella had told her. Samantha thought she had lost it. How was she to go back to school when she just suffered something so tragic? Ella had no idea of the guilt deep in Samantha's heart. It wasn't the typical "I never got to say goodbye.", but more of "It was my fault." She blamed herself.
On the night of the accident, she recalled wanting to sleep in her mother's room, seeing as it was cooler. Her mother had said no, but gave in after Samantha made a fuss about it. They had switched rooms. Samantha knew it was her fault. Her room was closest to the kitchen, where their candle fell over and ignited the whole place. If she hadn't made a fuss, it would have been her who had fried to a crisp. Not her beautiful mother and little brother. She hated herself so much and promised she would never forgive herself.
Everyday she would wake up telling herself she was a horrible person. Ella had begun to worry about her. She didn't know if Samantha was going to make it. She had placed her on anti-depressants but even that didn't do it for her.
One day, Samantha was outside, walking around like she usually did. She couldn't handle being inside crying anymore. It lead to thinking too much, and when she thought too much her thoughts would lead to things like swallowing the whole contents of the anti-depressants bottle. Her eyes were always red and puffy, that's what daily crying does to you. She had stopped attending school. She had stopped talking to her friends. She had stopped sleeping. She had stopped being a person. Samantha, seventeen, pathetic.
She sat on the swing at the local park, thinking. She knew she shouldn't be thinking, or even out this late, but she was. That's what she did. Think. She once again thought about how swallowing the contents of the anti-depressants bottle would feel, when she heard a voice. A subtle, masculine, but soothing voice. "Are you alright?" he had asked. She turned to see a boy right next to her. Standing. She couldn't see him very well, but she could tell he was worried, concerned. She shook her head. "What's it to you?" she asked, shaking a bit. She was sick of randoms asking her this. They boy looked taken aback.
"It's a simple question. Are you alright?" he said, determined. She sighed, and turned to him.
"You're not going to give up, are you?" she asked, as he sat in the swing next to her. She heard him chuckle as he shook his head.
"What's going on?" he asked. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to tell him everything. So she did. She told him it was her fault. She told him about the contents of the bottle. About how she continuously thought about ending her life. She told him about everything. He shook his head.
"There's so much more to life you have yet to see." he said, and through the shadows of his face she could see a smile.
"It seems so easy to you, doesn't it? I can't do that." she replied, kicking her feet a bit. His smile didn't fade.
"Give me one night, and I'll show you there's more to it than this." he said, standing up. Samantha stood up as well. "Are you crazy? We have just met. I don't know your name, you don't know mine." she said, putting her hands on her waist. He just kept smiling.
"Does it matter? You just told me everything there is to know about you, at this moment. Names aren't important right now." He said. He had a point. Samantha thought about it for a bit.
He wasn't going anywhere. She sighed, and saw his hand outstretched to her, anticipating the feel of her tiny fingers upon his. "What have you got to lose? Give me one night to prove you wrong." he said, and with that she placed her hand in his, and he began to lead her to his special spot, he said, it was the rooftop to an old house. "I come here when I need to realize life's great." he said to her, as they sat next to each other, looking up at the night sky. Samantha had never felt so amazing.
He told her about all his problems. About his life. About him. He never uttered his name. He said to him, names weren't half as important as the story behind the person. He said that if it was up to him, we wouldn't have names and we'd all just share our stories when people would ask; "Who are you?" He told her about his dreams, aspirations, his failures, his accomplishments, his desires, everything. Samantha found herself looking into a waking sky.
He told her it wasn't her fault. It was an accident, she didn't know it was going to happen. He said she was beautiful, that her soul was one of the prettiest thing he had seen. He told her that if he ever were to know her name, he knew it was beautiful, too. "Tulip," he said, "I'll call you tulip." He had proven her wrong. Her life wasn't as bad as she made it. She didn't need those anti-depressants, she had him. The guy who called her Tulip. She secretly declared him her soul mate. As the sun rose, they went off and walked, hand in hand to Samantha's house, where her soul mate was allowed to stay. In the process he had told her he had no home. She felt guilty for knowing she had it better.
When Ella had asked who he was, he said "Names don't matter. It's the story behind the person." Ella didn't understand, but she saw how happy and understanding Samantha had suddenly become. Samantha led her soul mate to their spare room, where he would be staying, right next to her room. She admitted, the apartment didn't look as bad anymore. Not with her soul mate there.
Everyday, she would walk around with him, hand in hand, connected. Everyday she felt a bit better. Everyday she realized even though she had lost two amazing people, she had gained another amazing person. They say things happen for a reason, and as cruel as it seems to think about maybe there was a reason for the tragedy. Maybe it was to meet him.
Samantha, seventeen, complete.
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