January Writing Prompt #1

Here is my first short story called "Unopened". Enjoy reading it and feel free to leave comments and remarks, reblog if you feel like it is worth a reblog but do not copy or claim it to be your story.  Characters, settings, and story are all mine.

Love,

Reading Freak

# 1 – Unopened by Reading Freak

The house stood at the end of the road and was surrounded by a small garden and a few trees with their branches covered with snow.  At this time of the year, the Christmas decorations inside and outside of houses were slowly put away and stored in garages or cellars. But not in this garden, not in this house. The lanterns and front porch decorations were still on display and they shed melancholic lights on the way.

“Joy to the world indeed!”, muttered the wrapped figure as she searched her bag for her keys. Frozen and tired, she finally found the key in her oversized bag.

The house was empty and cold since her departure on Christmas Eve. Everything left behind and untouched: the Christmas tree, the presents, the many decorative items on the coffee table in front of the chimney, the sofas and red cushions. It all felt so odd, so out of time like an old TV drama.  Time forgot this house, this room, this once happy girl.

She turned the lights on, put her bag on the ground and took off her coat.  Now was not the time for her to cry.  She had things to do.  She took a deep breath, tread softly through the living room towards the kitchen and opened the fridge.  The champagne and petits fours were awaiting a celebration that would never come.

“How had things turned so bad in such a short time?”, She could not help wonder.

The empty kitchen had no answer and the solitary figure she saw in the reflection of the window was of no help. Tomorrow she would throw the food away, store the champagne, clean the kitchen and get on with her life, her life without him. But her mind was set. The Christmas decorations had to disappear and right now. She took a huge garbage bag and walked back to the living room.

Looking around, wondering where to start, she settled on the Christmas tree and its shiny decorations. How she had enjoyed setting each ornament, looking forward to this celebration: their very first Christmas together. It was supposed to be perfect. A sad grimace set on her face and she felt her eyes beginning to tingle. With angry gestures, she peeled the tree off its red and white Christmas tree balls, violently pulled at the Christmas tinsels. Her anger dangerously arisen as some of the tinsels got stuck in the tree. She felt tears on her cheeks and could not help sobbing as the tension in her built up like a sea storm.

The whole catastrophic evening came back to her mind. The hard words, the violence of the unsaid truths and the realisation that all was not as it seemed at the time. The many accusations that sent her off the edge and finally the door slamming behind her as she left the house crying. It all came back to her like the angry waves of her mental sea storm.

A week later, he left a message on the phone and she knew she would never see him again. He had left for Italy.

“The house is yours and I am going to university “La Sapienza” in Rome. I accepted their offer. I left the keys on the table and I took my things. Don’t worry I’ll leave you alone.”

So here she was alone and throwing her anger and hard feelings on a poor Christmas tree instead of a happy time with her lover.

She had time to think about what happened, but she was still unable to pinpoint the exact moment or the exact words that had blown the whole situation.  And she would never know.  Her pride and feelings were too stunned and hurt. She would not call him, not then, not now, not ever.  It was too late.  The garland finally broke.  She had pulled too hard and fell into tears on the ground.

Why did it hurt so much? She had walked away, felt powerful as she slammed the door and walked to her car on that night.  She had refused to turn around as he opened the door and tried to stop her.  It was after all his fault.  She never asked questions about the pretty students following him everywhere.  She was not jealous, but that night it all went wrong.  The text message had been too much.  How in the world did this girl get his private mobile number?  How dare she leave such a message?  This was so hard to accept.

As she kept on crying and sobbing on the ground, she reached for the red blanket on the sofa.  She felt so cold and she wrapped herself tightly in “his” blanket. It still had some of his perfume.  How she regretted what she said.  Jealousy was in every word she had uttered and the more she spoke the angrier she got.  She refused to listen to his soothing words.  He was innocent, in love with her or so he said.  She had not listened, angered by this text message on this very special night.

Her eyes turned to the poor Christmas tree and she noticed an envelope with his elegant handwriting, unopened, lying there.  She felt the tears flowing down once more and her hands shook as she reached for the unopened envelope.  Slowly she realised how much she missed him, his loud voice, his tenderness and his stupid jokes.

She tried to open the envelope and, through her tears, she tried to decipher the few words written on the card. Suddenly, the sad tears were replaced by heavy breathings and sobs. She reached for her phone and dialed his number.  She went directly to voice mail and she left a message.

“I am home, waiting for you. I am sorry, please come to me”, was all she said when she realised a key was opening the front door and a tall loving figure was shouting her name.