"Sweet Calling"

I have written something, and it was for Finals English, and the teacher made a copy for me, so i think I'll type it on here. Even though it's a very short story, it's going to take up a lot of space.

Now, just to let everyone know, this is a fictional story. It is nothing like my thoughts on Romeo and Juliet. So, if you have any critique on my writing style, there is the comment thingy below!

Sweet Calling

Everything from one summer came rushing back to me, as fast as the the wind could blow and water could flow. It didn't matter that the surroundings around me were dark, or that the autumn leaves were already starting to fall. It didn't matter that I was in a cemetery, fighting all of the emotions that wanted to crawl out.

Nothing mattered but the truth, that that summer I had brought back every scent, smell, and sight that I thought I'd never want to remember.

This was her last summer. Amber's. I recall her saying that it made her feel free to know that soon enough, after that summer, she'd be gone in Heaven, with nothing weighing her down. I focused on different things. Like, how much time I could get in before she was gone, or maybe even being able to know her better than I ever did.

I was leaning against a huge oak tree, watching Amber attempting to fish, always getting her line caught on her pole. It was hot, not the hottest ever, but enough for me to take off my jacket, and splash my face with water from the river. My feet were bare, and my hair was tied in a small knot at the back of my head. The breeze that surrounded me played with the leaves up in the forest canopy. Amber reeled in her hook, but didn't do anything after.

"I'm done," she said, leaning her rod against a rock on the bank. She looked all around her, and rose her hands high up in the air. "Hello Mother Nature. How are you doing today? Are you still standing?" she called.

I laughed for some reason, thinking her sudden outburst was funny. The feelings I felt at that moment are indescribable. It was almost pure joy, it was palpable. It penetrated me. Yet, at the times when I'd feel amazing, I'd sink, knowing that what was happening then could be the last moments.

At night I'd dream of mountains, and an angel above them, belting out her songs so the whole world could hear. Each song explained struggles and triumphs, pain and loss, that would turn to nothing when you left.

I'd toss and turn, waking up to find a smile planted permanently on my face.

And then when morning broke, I'd call Amber, telling her everything.

"Amber, I think you're going to be an angel."

"Really? What makes you so sure of that? What if I've done something bad?"

I shrugged it off. "You? Bad?"

"Right. Me. Bad. Not going to happen." She laughed. But, I could feel something behind it. Her voice faltered everytime I tried to talk about what was going to happen. She'd become silent, and then talk of something else.

"I'm scared," she finally said.

"Me too."

When things started to get worse for her, I'd be there. I'd always tell her that it was going to be

OK. Nothing was going to happen...

-----

Standing in that waiting room, picking at a vending machine muffin, I was overcome with grief. I knew the moment was coming. The moment when she would die.

She had gotten so bad over the last couple of weeks. I always tried to think of positive things, like, mabe strawberries. Because, strawberries are good, right? They are red, juicy and sweet, and so warm. But, that didn't help. I kept paying attention to things I could've cared less about. Like, how the sound of the clocks ticking was deafening. Each stroke resembled another minute a doctor didn't come out of those double doors to tell me something.

Amber's parents were there, cuddled together, talking into each other's shoulders.
I'd notice how Amber's mom's left earing would dangle just a bit more than her right, or how fake gold was chipping off of the silver beneath. I'd take attention to the glare in the huge windows, how it was dark outside, and bright inside the hospital, and everything would reflect

back to me.

I'd know that the moon was too bright to see any crescents, or tell if it was completely full or not. I couldn't see the stars. I was surrounded by all of these things, all of these small things that were unimportant. And it was all because I was waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Something that would make me feel alive in a building full of death.

But, there was no chance of me feeling alive when thirty minutes later a doctor came out and said my friend wasn't.

-----

Somehow I managed to cry. I wasn't in enough shock that I stood still, not doing anything. I knew this was coming. Yet, I couldn't help the fact that fingers were going numb and my heart was about to fall out of my chest, numb as well.

Sometimes dreams come true, and three weeks after she died, I could hear the sweetest melody coming from across the river. It made me go to sleep for the first time, because I knew that Amber had found a place.

So, now, in the cemetery, with Amber underneath of me, and her headstone in front, I put down wild flowers in front of the angel that is carved there.

Thanks!

Written by Chelisa