In the Event That I Am Gone: 

Dearest, 

There is a routine you know by heart; that daily grind that you no longer have to think about. There were days before when you had to think about what came next, and even now if you think too hard, you begin to forget. 

But if you let it all wash over you, if you allow your movements to become clockwork; mindless machinations; if you force yourself to stop thinking, then most days, you will be able to forget. 

Some days will be infinitely harder, some days, you will become trapped in an ethereal dream state somewhere between motions; frozen in time between making coffee and reading the news. 

It will feel like being punched in the gut, and I must tell you now. There is nothing that can protect you; and nothing that can prepare you. It will hit you as hard and as quickly every single time. 

You will find yourself lost; wandering the seemingly endless expanse between regret and denial and the gaps in your memory where you tell yourself, ‘it was my fault’. 

But you will find your way out of the maze eventually; I can promise you now. 

Perhaps you wonder how I know this, perhaps you are without a path as you read this, following twists and turns that only spiral— I cannot now. But if you are reading this, I can guarantee one thing: that I am gone— the disease has never been kind to either of us, but I urge you. 

Allow me to become a ghost of your past. 

After reading this, you will find that I have taken care of everything— I can promise you that there is nothing you want in there, at least nothing that won’t offer you empty promises. 

In an ideal world, they would never have to send this, but reality is harsh, darling. I’ve never believed in miracles; not once, until I need them. It’s funny how you never believe in something until you need it. 

So I will leave you with this: I know that the first days, weeks, months, will be the hardest, but I also know that you will move on someday. Please don’t lock yourself within your memory to keep me alive— we’ll see each other on the other side; I can promise you this. 

Keep moving, love, because for now, this is my goodbye.

----

You may notice I moved (see location).  These were all really good and really moving. I don't know how or where we're going to have the judging, but I'd just like to say good job to anyone who participated. If you entered, the judging is tomorrow. I'm feeling inspired, so I might post a sad story for community critique. My CAPTCHA says crtq. I guess it knows what I was saying. Good job again, and good luck!

If we're starting a new contest right after the judging, can I nominate fear for the next emotion?

oh my gosh guys I’m so sorry that’s not that long of a time to write a story and I sorta want to join so what do u all think of adding an extra week? I’m sorry this is short and fast, long story short I’m not suposed to have my phone right now....

To the tippity top!

Ok so this is sorrta not very good, I tried to find time to work on it but in the end I didn’t really have much time to work on this. So, mind the spelling errors, and even though this is horrible, I hope it makes atleast someone cry! Not including me. I totally didn’t tear up when I read over it. Nope. Not at all....

~

It was a dark and stormy night. 

That’s how most stories start, but this is where my story ends.

It was a car. A small, black car, with one headlight dark and one headlight lit. It smelt like chocolate, my sisters favorite. I remember her being sad. Why was she sad? I remember thinking that. 

Earlier in the day, she sat with a boy she knew well. She sat with her best friend, in the lawn, the pail and dark skinned kids standing out against the lush of the forest. 

She loved her best friend. And sitting, back to back, she would spill her whole life out to him. Her doubts, her dreams, the struggles of being a foster kid trying to protect her brother. 

And he would listen. 

The boy would hug her, she would hug the boy. He liked to sing. So he sang. The boy sang a different song every day, songs that she knew well, and matched whatever mood she was in. He never once wanted to talk about his life. It was always the same.

But that day, the foster girl didn’t say a word. She listened to the boy’s life story. And, as the neighbor curiously watched her sitting alone and staring into space, it dawned on her. 

“You okay?” The neighbor called. 

“I have a special song to sing today.” Her best friend said, smiling a little. 

A little red car flashed across the girl’s thoughts. It was small, and there were clear outlines of three people against the dark windshield. Around it was hazy, like mist, like that one part of a book you know well but just can’t get off of the tip of your tongue. “Yes?” She whispered, trying so hard to pay attention to his words, but that car kept flashing across her mind. He had started singing by now. The headlights flashed through the mist of her thoughts. The parking brakes never blazed red. The car zoomed through the hazy road it was on, closer and closer to bursting out from her head. It drove, faster than the words of the song could keep up. “And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we lo-o-ove…” A crash. The car crashed. Her brain grew dark, hazy, but in a completely different way. That boy was in the car. He was in there, she couldn’t get to him, he was trapped…”Great clouds rolled over the hills bringing darkness from above…” 

His voice was soft, eerie, like he knew exactly what was going through her mind, like he was in her mind...just a trick on her senses... 

She couldn't save him. The dark skinned boy. Her best friend. She tortured herself, she hated herself for not being able to save him...to help him...to do anything...but if she pretend it never happened…”if you just close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothings changed at all?”

She opened her eyes. The singing cut off abruptly.

He was gone. 

She quickly glanced around, rubbing the scar of her past that she had hidden for so long, even from herself. She caught the eye of that neighbor. And then of a small boy looking at her curiously through the window of her current living placement.

And she swore, she swore to herself, looking into the window where her brother sat, that she would never let that happen to him. 

She would never let anything happen to him. 

I remember hugging her. 

I remember her squeezing my hand, that look on her face she gets when she’s lost in thought. And right after, that look she gets when she concludes that whatever terrible happened to her, whatever thing that she resented, she would fight. Not for herself, but for me. 

To protect me. 

And she did. She protected me until she couldn’t anymore. 

I should have protected her. I should have, I knew. But I was scared. And it happened so fast. So very very fast. And her, being the protective and strong sister she was, I thought she would be alright. 

That we would be alright. 

It was another car. Our foster parent, I don’t remember his name, but he was drunk, and driving fast. He didn’t care about us. 

I knew. 

She knew. 

There was a song playing on the radio. It hummed a steady beat, as if to remind...someone….of something that was over my head. 

I didn’t understand as the erie words sang…. “if you just close your eyes...does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?”

And then that car came out of nowhere. Blinding lights. Skidding tires. The drunken man hollard before contact, before the glass shattered into a million pieces, like fallen stars, flying onto us like moths to light. In that very moment, that second, I felt fear seize me. And then a second later, there was my sister, driving the spears of fear away, into the dusk, driving the moths away and back into the night. She held me. Held me close. 

“If you just close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?” The radio buzzed even though the car and its driver were long dead.

But I was safe. 

I was always safe when she was holding me. 

In that moment of shock, I didn’t realize that she had put her own heart out there to save mine. That those spears of fear weren’t chased away, but were merely drawn to another light. 

“How am I going to be an optimist about this…..?”

The next part was a haze. I called out her name. She didn’t answer. 

“If you just close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all?” The radio came to an abrupt stop.

Tears dribbled down my face as I held him close to my chest, my muscles tightening around him, protecting him. 

My body had gone numb. My senses had left me. I was only aware of the shivering beneath me, and the music. 

The music. 

I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t leave my brother. He would have nowhere to go. 

I couldn’t do that to him. 

But….

I tried to hold onto the little senses I had left, grasping at a hologram. 

I tried, and failed, to bring myself back to the present. I failed. 

I failed him. 

And then the music stopped. 

She seemed to fall back in slow motion, her warm arms holding me tight until they didn’t have the strength to anymore.

No! I screamed. Don’t go! Don’t leave me! 

Her grip was gone. Her body fell back. I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face her. I killed her. I killed my sister.

The door opened. 

I shoved the person back. 

They couldn’t touch her. They wouldn't hurt her anymore. I would protect her….I would….I would...

But I failed her. 

~

Song is called Pompeii by Bastille.

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