The world did not end

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

The short story was an idea I used to complete one of my mock exams in the English Language Paper 1. Later I found the story interesting and I wanted to develop it.

It's what a lover would expect the least and an enemy the most.

Submitted: January 22, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 22, 2018



The Word Did Not End


The world did not end with a bang or a whisper, but rather one scream at a time. Hers then his.

They walked rapidly in one direction, weaved a little, and chatted as they went. Sarah noticed the hiding sun. Ben saw the cloudy remains of yesterday’s rainstorm, as they both strode down the road. He had a thin, pointed face, almost femininely sensitive. Under unkempt and dirty blond hair, peeked deep swirls of brown that coloured his pupils. The two held hands and nothing in the world compared to the comfort and security they felt. Her soft lips twitched and reached as high as her eyes. They were now approaching the middle of the road.

The rapid change in colour. Red. Orange. Green...

Upon the horrifying realization that there was no way to avoid the car, time slowed down for Sarah. She hoped that it was only her imagination creating the gruesome scene before her.

Honk! Squeal! Bump! 

The world rushed by in a blur for Ben – fast, slow almost suspended. The abrupt wall of silence that crushed the street, petrified him.

“Shouldn’t Sarah bemoaning or calling out,” he thought.

Every day, every person walked with their heads down as they moved, moved at maximum speeds. Their umbrellas would force others to duck. Yet on that day, all movement froze. Many wondered whether all candles were blown out in heaven. Were before sudden horns were repeatedly smashed by selfish fathers, impatiently waiting for the traffic to diminish, now held a silent respect. Only far in the distance, the sound of an ambulance echoed, shortly interrupted by her scream. The shout reverberated in the air.

A mess. Something was bothering her. Something crushed inside her. Something burned her. Something felt so wrong, so invalid - Sarah couldn’t tell what. She tried. She tried to catch the cause of this unexplained pain but failed. The sobs punched through, ripping her muscles, bones, guts. Rapidly, as she pressed her arms upwards, she began to cry with the force of a person vomiting. An agonising struggle lanced through her head, colourless shots flashed in front of her eyes. Yet she ignored it. Her body was limp, lifeless but still wondered, looked at him. For what seemed like an eternity, until their eyes met!

Ben approached her with astonishing speed but came to a sudden stop. A lump formed in his throat, his heart cracked as he witnessed the flowing ocean of blood. He crouched beside her. The dark red blood splattered the pavement, flowed through space between her fingers. He clutched at her shirt. Placed his shaky palm to cover her wound, to block the surge of steady blood. Yet, it still dripped in fast-moving streams. With it came life. Without it came death. 

Then, all he did was embrace her and let the torrent of her pain soak through his shirt. He ran his fingers through her hair, time and time again, just to calm the silent war within her. It barely seemed enough yet her heart rate came down. The extensive pounding, the great pressure of every beat. Ben couldn’t hear it but he felt it…

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum….ba-

Sobs echoed through him, as Sarah’s lids grew heavy in weight, as her heart skipped beats. She did not say: Do not cry: for not all tears are weak. She felt a splash of bullets fall on her. Then, the love burst like water from a dam, reaching her chin, flooding her. Steadily, she felt a rock forming in her chest. She described it as the memories of their love being carved on her heart. His embrace was the only medicine she needed, they were the light in the darkness, an isolated star in an otherwise empty sky. A sense of tranquillity captured her.

Each gasp tore down her throat and her mind raced even as she lost herself in the storm but she did not give up. She stayed with him until the crumbled lungs allowed her to breathe:

“I love you,” she whispered and shut her eyes….

The pressure of their love was inside him, not a tangled knot but a ticking bomb. He had to explode.

He screamed her name his voice cracking. The wind threw it back at him, punched his vision, blocked his view. Further, he collapsed, his howls of misery worsened.

So, now reader- you will understand why the world did not end with a bang or a whisper but rather one scream at a time.




© Copyright 2019 Haela. All rights reserved.

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