Grrrr. Nothing against you guys, but those recent reviewers who think they can judge what's good and what sucks are just... anyway, they make me wanna do better :)
So here it is… my one-shot debut. Live and in black/white.
THINKING IN A BOX
Sometimes, you can't just walk past something, look at it for a second and just assume it will always be there.
You can't, but you do it anyway. It isn't rational, but you keep on walking without really taking your time to memorize it.
Jordan had known that from the beginning. It was just logical that one day, everything would be gone.. broken into tiny, deformed pieces, and finally scattered all over the world by a wind stronger than everything a human being could possibly imagine. Not by fate, though. Fate was a theory which never truly existed in her opinion, and certainly not in her mind. But she couldn't tell if her heart wanted to disagree, or if she was simply curious how it would be, the believe in something so mighty, so pure you could put all your trust into a hand that would always be a comforting shelter, even when the whole outside was storming and changing and not the same anymore.
She thought it had to be a nice feeling.
She was slipping away. Slowly, with each day, her petite frame vanished further into the nothingness he didn't dare to address. Everybody noticed, only she didn't seem to mind this time. It was as if she simply didn't care anymore, as if she wasn't quite certain that there still was something worth living for. Why did he think like this? Jordan was only a shell of her former self, a doll caught by a cold, unforgiving breeze. Her life wasn't much more. How could he be so sure she wanted to live again?
Exactly this was the point. He couldn't. He didn't know what to think of her silence, or what to do to make her forget the thoughts he had no doubt were running through her had. He was a doctor, and he didn't have a clue how to stop the illness infecting her system. He was helpless, just like her.
He watched her fade, with an increasing sense of foreboding.
All she felt was warmth.
At first, she'd been surprised by the tingly, light emotions running through her from head to toe, but by now, she had accepted the fact that it wasn't unpleasant, like she'd wished for so long. It was rather comfy. But strange, it didn't disturb her like she suspected it would.
She felt good doing it. And the fast increasing pool of blood on the floor, on her clothes and on the walls did nothing to stop her.
But his voice did.
Okay.. ready to hit me?