A short poem story...

 Note: Before the Birth of this blog,
Another published a story of mine, here it is:

From The Shadowy Mists

My only friend; she’d talk to me every now and then, in better times past, when I lived in paradise. Well past the final breath of the bell, we used to wander the high school’s lonely halls. The struggle of learning and its draining burden was thrown off our shoulders, I no longer alone. In isolation, by the dying light of sunset, we would meet and patch our wounds and ease our troubles. I would waltz with my lover, to the lonely piano and violins of a solitary man, each step another sliver of arrow shaft driven into my heart, bleeding passion for blood. Each note magnified the seductive smile of my partner, I playfully resisting her advances. She would take it in good fun, knowing I was hers. Then, love knew no bounds. We were equals, comrades in arms; two lovers, thrown together by fate. I knew not her origins, but we quickly bonded. She would giggle as the light of the dying sun would catch my silver rings when I flourished fingers as we spoke. Through her, I was taken into a different world. Though I saw naught but a dim hallway, we witnessed judgements cast upon us by mute shadows; looking on as we used dance slowly, gracefully, as I caressed her skin. Holding each other close; her soft flesh against mine, hearing nothing but the silent cries of existence, but listening to our private symphony, I lifted my cares; each struck snowy key, each bowed brass string, syncopating my steps.

Such was life around me:

Hallways full to bursting,

Groaning under the strain

Classrooms, barley containing

The young minds of this generation,

Wishing for the weekend so desperately desired,

Wandering, some anxious, some careless, some lost in dreams

A moment two hours past, captured by the open mind

Lying on the lounge couch, plush beneath my fingers,

We cared for nothing in the world

It was in such bliss that we lived in such days. But I knew not; each note slowly wove my hangman’s noose. It was then, with the final thread, the world fell from under me, and she stood there, smiling.

I awoke in the same hall, standing, empty and alone: once welcoming shadows resented my presence; a once warm safe-haven turned into an eerie wasteland. Not a trace could be found of her. No one ever knew.

I never saw her again; from the misted void she came, and to the misted void returned.