Hey guys!
So, if you havent noticed, I kinda have a theme going on for this blog. Some of my posts are about how YOU are beautiful, and others are about how you can make your life beautiful. Well, I am about to bring in a new blog topic!
CUE THE EPIC MUSIC!
For years I have loved writing stories. There is just something magical about taking my thoughts, and putting them on a page for others to read and interpret. Mmmm. I just love it. So, once a month I am going to present you with A SHORT STORY! I think stories are beautiful, so why not put them on a blog all about true beauty?
Without further ado, here is my first short story that I have ever published on the internet. I hope you like it!
She shook as he held her, sitting on the tiles of the
deserted high school hallway. Her breath came in quick uncontrollable bursts,
eyes darting this way and that. He contemplated what to do if she passed out.
There were only three people left in the building, one in the front office,
only a two minutes’ walk from the secluded corner where they sat. The others
remained on the second and third floors, where they had, only two hours ago,
been counting down the minutes until each student went home. If anything did
happen, the boy was sure he knew what to do. It would only take thirty seconds
to run to the office, maybe thirty-five if he dialed 911 on the way.
A heart wrenching sob pierced the air, and pulled him out of
his thoughts. “Oliver” the girl gasped, barely able to let his name escape her
blue lips. “Oliver, please! Make it stop!” A single tear rolled down her cheek,
falling gracefully on his chest. Pain and fear clouded her emerald eyes. She
was fighting a war inside that couldn’t be seen, dodging bullets that were in
her mind, and throwing grenades at her frantic thoughts. His voice caught when
he tried to speak. Seeing her like this made his heart heavy. Why do the best
people always have the hardest trials? “Mercedes, focus. Only you can stop it.
You just have to try.” “I am trying!” She practically screamed. “I never stop
trying! I fight every single day of my life! Can’t somebody else be on the
front lines for once?”
As if on cue, Mercedes’ breathing sped up again. Rapid puffs
of air came out of her mouth, and her eyes widened in terror. Every part of her
slender body trembled as the fear she longed to hide consumed every happy
thought that ever crossed her mind. In vain, she groped for the fabric of
Oliver’s shirt, needing something to hold on to while her world was falling to pieces.
Anxiety, she had told him, was a monster that came
unannounced; filled with rage at nonsense and fear towards everything.
“Mercedes, you are hyperventilating. I need you to control
your breathing so you don’t pass out.” Oliver’s brows were furrowed in
concentration. Please, he thought. Fight as hard as you can. “I-I-I can’t.”
The air became increasingly thin with every shallow breath she was taking.
Beads of perspiration collected on her forehead like dew on the morning grass.
She was trying so hard, but something held her back. Part
of her wanted to faint, to escape this world full of panic and fear. Black clouded
the edges of her vision, and horror gripped her heart. “Oliver-“her lids became
heavy.
“Mere, look at me. Look me straight in the eyes.” She
wondered why he sounded scared. Why would he be if he didn’t have anxiety? “Mere!”
Gradually she fought to turn her head, and their eyes met. “Listen to me
Mercedes. You need to put your back against my chest. If you want to stop
hyperventilating, you have to breathe when I breathe. Okay?” Sobs racked her body, and she felt like
throwing up. “No.” She gasped. “I can’t.” Unwillingly, Oliver turned her so
that there was no space between his own chest and her back. “Please Mere,
follow me. Breathe.”
Their pace started out slow, Mercedes breathing correctly for
a moment, then slipping into hyperventilation once again. Oliver offered an
assortment of encouragements, some filled with hope, but others tinged with
worry. He knew she desperately needed air, but her lungs could only receive it
if she tried harder.
“Oliver, give me your hand.” She said shakily. “If you give
me your hand I can stop.” Together they intertwined their fingers, uniting them
in purpose. Hope rose in Oliver’s chest. She was calming down, it was working.
Gradually she paced her breaths with his, and succumbed to the even beats of
his heart.
He felt her relax, and could only imagine the peace that was
spreading across her face. “Mercedes,” he whispered in her ear, “you did it!”
The last of her fear washed away, and fatigue replaced it instead. She wanted
to apologize for her unreasonable panic, but found herself too tired to try.
While Mercedes sat on the tile of her empty high school
hallway, wrapped in the arms of the boy she adored, a profound thought occurred
to her.
Calm is not a feeling, but a person.
