Charles

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Charles is a man who constantly questioned life and got the answers he was searching for, but there was always something missing from his existence. In this perfect society, he does not fit the
norm and is desired by women and yet he does not want them. Eloise Fitzgerald is a woman who does not fit societies standards either but she is frowned upon but does not let that stop her ambition
to find love and she does in Charles. But, this love proves to be overwhelming for Charles.

Submitted: November 30, 2017

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Submitted: November 30, 2017

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No one knew why Charles committed suicide. Self-destruction overcame him as swift as one who falls in

love. The secrets of life slowly intruded, then flooded all at once ripping him apart from the inside. There was no logic visible to the naked eye that explained the pain Charles was enduring. Much like the night sky, Charles was beautifully dark and filled with mystery; an intriguing man he was and many attempted to crack the code of what made him brilliant. But, some mysteries are best left undiscovered.

Charles was the most eligible bachelor in a town many called “La Ciudad de Los Niños”; a simple place

where life was blissful and stress free. There were no worries or cares there; anyone and everyone could be exactly what they wanted to be and do what they wanted to. No one felt the urge to analyze the world around them, except Charles. He was a man that did not and could not love or be loved; he was too complex.

In this small town everyone followed the same pattern: wake up, get ready for the day, go to work, come

home, and repeat. There was no one who questioned this seeing as how this was the only process they had ever known and the only one that has ever made sense. The women were strikingly beautiful blondes with encompassing blue eyes resembling that of the sea; tall and statuesque with a figure that is envied by many. Men of this society stretched like skyscrapers with pulsating muscles, smiles that revealed shining pearls blinding to the eye, and slick blonde hair; these men were Ken dolls. But, Charles did not fit this norm; he had bright, red hair and hazel eyes that constantly swirled with radiant colors.

“Charles?” a peaceful voice lightly whispered like a feather being whisked away in the wind.

With a jolting motion, he yanked around with an irritated tone: “Yes. May I ask who wa…” his sentence

faded before he got to finish because of who stood in front of his eyes, Eloise Fitzgerald. She was short, curvy, had long brown hair, and deep brown eyes that told her painful story better than her mouth could; always wearing her signature E brooch above her heart.

“I’m…”

“Eloise Fitzgerald,” Charles said so fluidly as if he had known her all his life.

“How did you know?” Eloise asked.

“I’m Charles,” he said confidently knowing his name carried significance in their society. Elois rebelled

the life that La Ciudad de Los Niños created for its inhabitants and Charles knew of this; he found an interesting sense of adventure and challenge in finding what made her elegantly divergent.

Being an outcast, Eloise was frowned upon and shunned causing trauma and dismay all her life; but this

did not stop her desire to love and be loved. Charles always caught her eye and she fancied him for quite some time. She yearned to understand what his troubled thoughts were and what made him tick; Eloise wanted to enter his mind in a way that no other had, so she pursued Charles.

Over a course of six months Eloise and Charles filled each other with more knowledge than one could

bare; isolating themselves from society. They discussed topics that ranged as great as the Sahara from the universe to the simplicities of life; they were content with the little world they had formed. Charles saw Eloise as a safe haven and Eloise viewed Charles as home. They relied on each other like a drug addict does a fix. They understood that their relationship was not a healthy one, but they did not care; the foundation they had built surpassed any rational process by which a relationship should stand. Every aspect was perfectly imperfect: their long winded late night discussions, constant barbaric love making, the non-awkward silence that fell as they stared deep into eachothers eyes, and the arguments that inevitably happened occasionally; a love story for the damned.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Eloise asked Charles because she was mindful of the faults their

relationship contained.

To her surprise, for once, Charles answered as simply as he possibly could: “I could never let you leave

my life. You can have space when you need it, but I will always have you with me.”

On the seventh month Charles fell into an unexplainable depressed state. Here he was a man that had it all:

peace, knowledge, and an equal he was madly in love with; yet he could not describe this agony that overcame him. Eloise noticed this and attempted to get Charles to discuss it, but he became a reserved man and did not want to share much with her. She felt helpless because she wanted to ease his pain, but knew that it was something he would have to personally work through.

One day as he was peering out over his balcony, Charles came to a realization; life no longer had any

meaning to him. He was constantly curious and discovering all there was to know in the world; never satisfied with what he previously learned and searching for more led him to mentally expand past a horizon that many never come close to reaching. Charles was aware that there was a missing puzzle piece to his life and it became very evident where his recent woe stemmed from; Eloise Fitzgerald. The knowledge of love connected unmistakingly well to his bemusement and once he registered the root of his sorrow, he knew what had to be done.

The next day Eloise went to run a bath and fell silent from the portrait that was painted in front of her.

Charles had killed himself in the most artistic way he could with no trace as to why he had done it except an “E” carved into his skin above his heart. He laid naked in the bath filled with the red sea as his blood dripped down the sides from where he had slit his wrists; all done with Eloise’s signature brooch. Strangely, Eloise did not feel grief finding her lover in this condition; she felt a sense of relief that he was no longer suffering. As she approached the crystal tub, Eloise bent down placing a light kiss on Charles’ forehead.

“You left me alone but I’m not letting you leave my life. I’m giving you the space you need, but you will

always be with me,” she whispered as softly as she spoke his name the first time they met.

Nobody, not even Eloise, knew why Charles committed suicide. Self-destruction overcame him as swift as

one who falls in love. The secrets of life slowly intruded, then flooded all at once ripping him apart from the inside. There was no logic visible to the naked eye that explained the pain Charles was enduring. Much like the night sky, Charles was beautifully dark and filled with mystery; an intriguing man he was and many attempted to crack the code of what made him brilliant but only Eloise came close to figuring it out. But some mysteries, as Charles found out, are best left undiscovered.


 

 


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