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The Wings of a Butterfly (Revised)

Novel By: jakobbuchli

A story of a heartbroken young man who does everything in his power to win back the love of his life. This is a revised version.
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Submitted:Feb 4, 2014    Reads: 19    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

The raindrops were running down the window as if they were having their own secret race. It had been raining for days now, bringing a dark mood to the town. Everyone who ever suffered from heartache knows that feeling when it seems as if the sky is crying with you.

Yvan was tired of staring out of the window, seeing nothing. He felt as if the earth stopped spinning, clocks stopped ticking, and he was trapped in sorrow forever. He knew he had to do something; sitting there feeling sorry for himself would do him no good. But he felt no strength. Maybe if there was someone to give him a gentle push, maybe just that would be enough. But there was no one. Everyone continued living their lives, never noticing his pain.

Three months had passed since Lucia, the woman he had fallen for more than a year ago, left him. Ever since he had been hiding behind the four walls of his house; refusing to continue living his life; slowly slipping back into his depression. He closed his eyes now; he could feel every single bad feeling that had tormented him in the past returning back at that dark moment. His doubts and his fears, his insecurity and his insignificance, but most of all his loneliness; they all began to suffocate him once again.

He moved his chair to the piano. It had been sitting there for months, with no purpose at all. Dust covered the keys, but he swept it off with one quick move. He placed his fingers on the keys and played a few notes; his fingers remembered what to do, even though his mind was in another world. The notes turned into a sad tune. Tears streamed down his cheeks, blinding him. He was sitting in the dark room all alone, consumed by heart breaking music, rain pouring outside, when suddenly he heard a scream.

He stood up quickly and cleared his thoughts. He looked out the window, but the streets were completely abandoned. He ran out of the house, his eyes searching in the darkness. There was no one. Maybe I'm losing my mind, he thought to himself. He returned back in to the warmth of his home, trying to forget about the odd incident. But somehow he was awake from his daze now, and suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He was starving.

He already knew there was nothing in his kitchen. The previous day he had eaten the last piece of bread and he hadn't had a decent meal for days. He stood there for a while, pondering over what to do. After suffering and doing nothing but crying for weeks, he learned to become accustomed to it, and so it was hard for him to participate in any kind of activity. He was fighting an internal battle -should he go and try to survive, or just give in and starve to death? If he had considered that an hour ago, he would have chosen the latter. But that scream did something to him. Someone else seemed to be crying for help and that made him feel less alone.

He quickly put on some clothes and a baseball cap, and left the house. The air was cold and humid. It felt incredibly refreshing. There was not a single soul out there, but that was somehow relieving. He knew he looked like a wild man; he hadn't shaved in a month and his hair was even messier than usual. But that was the least of his worries. He needed food and he needed to return as quickly as possible.

He finally reached the mall. His legs were weak, so he stopped at the newspaper stand and bought a chocolate bar. He had to eat first, if he wanted to ever be able to return home. He sat down on a leather sofa, one of many that were waiting there for tired customers. He was chewing his chocolate when he suddenly saw a silhouette.

Not just a silhouette, but a shape that seemed so familiar yet so distant to him. It couldn't possibly be her. He knew she had left months ago and her last sentence still clearly echoed in his memory: "I will never come back."

He was certain that the hunger and isolation had driven him completely insane. First he was hearing voices; now he was having delusions. But the sight was not giving him any peace; he had to know. He had to find out whether that was her or if it was only his mind playing tricks with him.

He was thankful now for his unkempt appearance. He knew she would never recognise him. He stepped towards her, still far from her, but closer enough to see more clearly. His heart stopped. It was her, Lucia. The love of his life was shopping in his home town, a place she swore never to return to.


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