Short Stories

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Longing.
She stared at the word on the page her heart pounding in her chest in a strange twist of anticipation, her hands paused, barely a feather’s width from the keys of the computer. Such strange things just the word stirred, such feelings of needing more, needing to exist on a different level. She blushed as the thought rose in her mind and caressed her face, she was longing for love. Longing to be cherished and chosen.

The sunlight glinted through the window onto the glass of water that sat ever ready to quench her thirst, shakily she withdrew her hand from the keyboard and reached for the water, sipping quietly and yet still very aware of the word calling her to dwell a bit more with the phrases that scooped her heart to her mouth, to be poured out in words.

The past came first, the hard steel of her childhood grated against the fragrant morning she was currently experiencing, the single tear was hastily wiped from her eyes as she lifted her hands to type the weary old story. Pain echoed in the words, though she tried to hide it, hatred surfaced briefly, replaced by quick forgiveness and the bitter after taste of regret. The single tear was replaced by many tears. She longed in those years she knew, she had longed for her father to rescue her, for him to notice her pain, to be gone to not cause pain, or be called names, or be treated like dirt. She had no choice – the longing lingered well past the text she wrote as she described it in simple words, neither telling all nor leaving out the truth and then not glorifying nor blaming those who had done wrong and those who had done good. No child should know that keen, sharp edge of longing that way.

Her teen years had echoed like a lonely cry of an isolated herd of elephants. Her social skills – or lack of them – became her biggest cross to bear. She trudged along through those years, desperate for a friend. Longing for someone to trust and yet trusting no-one. Darkness hounded her steps and threatened often to engulf her heart in its dark evil grip. She was trapped. Unable to move away from the problems she buried them in books. Reading of good overcoming evil helped her heart hope some, trying desperately to ignore reality; she sank further away from it. Never with her nose out of a book, when she finally looked up… the years had gone by without much of a sense of life, or hope.

Her final year in high school was a form of hell only vaguely known to mankind. She was sick, she had known this for a while but with her nose buried so far into a fictional world it had not disrupted her life that much. Then it became a problem. She found herself blacking out in class, or forgetting sequences, or just not comprehending things as she once did. No-one walked this road with her. They tried, she would reflect later, but it was just impossible for them to know just how frightening it was to a 17 year old to be tested for a multitude of illnesses. The doubts on her health did not help her school work in the slightest. It didn’t exactly hinder. She finally graduated, stress and relief mingled as life became an open plan apartment – she had no idea what to do with it, nor did she really know which direction to face. She longed to know where to go, what to do longed for a plan, a purpose.

Adulthood hit with the ferocity only leaving home and going it alone can bring. Suddenly finding herself a continent away from her home, she stared to the western sky, over the mountains and longed for her simple life.

Life does go on; her longings that she had carried with her became the luggage with which the world was now viewed. She studied hard – had to make her dad proud so that he would notice her – she worked hard – had to fight to keep that darkness at bay. She hid. People scared her. Scarred from the past she didn’t even know what she was doing there, trying to be someone she felt she was not, trying to become someone she only dreamed of. Still woven through it all, sickness plagued her. Kind people came around and helped her when she was sickest, did not criticize her for the weakness, opened jars, cupboards and doors for her when the time came. They trusted her as well. However no amount of respect and trust can undo the damage harsh words from a parent can create. No amount of kindness can mend a broken heart.

She found herself on dark nights, high up on the third floor balcony staring out across the well lit city below, wishing she could just climb the rails and throw herself off and die. Somehow she could not. In her heart she felt she was weak because she could not even do that.

The first year went by. Slowly the kindness edged into her world and she smiled some, but the pain was there, barely hidden below the surface. The longing would resurface with a vengeance now and then – to be loved, fought for and cherished, to be held and respected, to have someone tell her well done.

Years passed – three in fact. She sat now with her bag in the car and rental papers in her hand, her longing for a future diminished as she tried to set her life up. Tried to be organized. Still the darkness lingered, still it clawed at her. She fought hard to push it away. Started writing, started living back in a fictional land. Struggling to make it to the bus stop a few blocks away she started knowing without a doubt that something was getting worse. The illness that had continued to plague her was now about to over take her. She couldn’t even begin to explain that to anyone.

Longing.
She knew longing. She had been there. Lifting her eyes to the flowers that graced her desk and the soft purple bear that sat near them, her eyes glistened with tears. At last longing actually has an answer. On the hard fought road she had aquired some scars, some tears that would never go. On that road she still walked but no more does she walk alone.

Five years had passed since she had walked along by herself. A man, talk dark and handsome had come, strength to her weakness, hope when she felt hers draining, a dreamer to her practical heart. Full of faith when she wonders where God is.

Longing….
She still knew, still understood. What it was to long. Even the word brings such emotions and heart to the fore-front of the mind. Her heart replied with the one thing she knew to be true. God had provided her with everything she had longed for, and more.

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