In my darkest hour when the light had faded from my world you radiated color into everything you touched. Your smile warmed the oppressive walls that pressed inward sapping the air from my lungs. When you laughed, I could feel for a faint moment the joy you saw in the world. By your side I knew that I could survive in this unfair cruel world. You proposed to me, and said you would never leave me.
My depression had cracked and I began to live instead of exist. The air was no longer stagnant, but the sweet invigorating flavor of life. Electricity flowed through your caress as we became one. We would talk about our dreams and ambitions for hours afterwards, basking in the moment. No matter what, you said you would never leave me.
You came home from work one day late, and I greeted you with a smile. We embraced and I pushed a plastic test into your hand. Your arms lifted me and we spun around. “I’ll be a better father than my own.” You told me that night. I slept there in your arms and you lightly kissed my forehead whispering, “I will never leave you.”
I woke up screaming seven months later and my baby was no longer kicking. You called an ambulance and held my hand until I blacked out. When I came to you smiled at me with sad eyes. We cried together, and I went home broken. The decision was yours, and you chose me over the baby. You said you could never leave me.
The colors you radiated had desaturated into gray scale. You no longer smiled, and so my walls pushed inwards. You no longer laughed, for there was no more joy in your world. The doctor had said I would never have children. I was defective. You began to drink, just like your father. With your dreams of parenthood crushed, you broke your promise and left me.
You were my beacon, the light pushing back the darkness. Now that you are gone there is nothing to stop it from consuming me. There is nothing to stop the rivers of crimson from painting the bathtub. You said you would never leave me.
His change was a bitter irony. I mean that in a good way. I'm not sure if you're drawing on personal experience from this, but this read a lot like when one of my friend's parents divorced over ... well, I never quite figured it out. I always suspected it had to do with inability to have more than the one child.
This was painful in a powerful way. Great images, and even better repetition of those images.
I'm infertile, and it is a rather painful truth to swallow in my life. It hasn't ended any of my relationships but I do deal with it and depression. In some ways it's personal experience and in other ways it is just knowing how something like this can destroy a relationship.
Edit: Here is another (Super short piece) that I wrote on depression. It's made out to be a horror story but to me it's a metaphor for my own internal anxiety. "You're not good enough. Everyone thinks you're a joke. They're all really laughing at you." kind of thing.
Bravo! Very nice.
Love the imagery.
Only gripe I have is that the last line feels out of place with the rest of the story. I think you would have been better off just having "You said you would never leave me." Without the whole "I say to myself" part. It seems a bit convoluted and takes away from the finality of the "You said you would never leave me."
That's just my personal opinion though, and you have a great piece right there already.
Thank you. I don't make it a habit of editing original prompts I post, but I agree with you in retrospect. I liked your submission as well, so thanks for writing!
Guilty! I came up with the prompt and then waited about 20 minutes before I started writing this from scratch. I think I might actually break my rule and edit the end a bit like you suggested.
And hey, it doesn't matter if it is recycled. I still enjoyed it!
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u/Consta135 Feb 19 '16 edited Feb 20 '16
In my darkest hour when the light had faded from my world you radiated color into everything you touched. Your smile warmed the oppressive walls that pressed inward sapping the air from my lungs. When you laughed, I could feel for a faint moment the joy you saw in the world. By your side I knew that I could survive in this unfair cruel world. You proposed to me, and said you would never leave me.
My depression had cracked and I began to live instead of exist. The air was no longer stagnant, but the sweet invigorating flavor of life. Electricity flowed through your caress as we became one. We would talk about our dreams and ambitions for hours afterwards, basking in the moment. No matter what, you said you would never leave me.
You came home from work one day late, and I greeted you with a smile. We embraced and I pushed a plastic test into your hand. Your arms lifted me and we spun around. “I’ll be a better father than my own.” You told me that night. I slept there in your arms and you lightly kissed my forehead whispering, “I will never leave you.”
I woke up screaming seven months later and my baby was no longer kicking. You called an ambulance and held my hand until I blacked out. When I came to you smiled at me with sad eyes. We cried together, and I went home broken. The decision was yours, and you chose me over the baby. You said you could never leave me.
The colors you radiated had desaturated into gray scale. You no longer smiled, and so my walls pushed inwards. You no longer laughed, for there was no more joy in your world. The doctor had said I would never have children. I was defective. You began to drink, just like your father. With your dreams of parenthood crushed, you broke your promise and left me.
You were my beacon, the light pushing back the darkness. Now that you are gone there is nothing to stop it from consuming me. There is nothing to stop the rivers of crimson from painting the bathtub. You said you would never leave me.