(A/N: I am not quite sure why I am writing this but I am and in a way it's
more for myself than any of you, I didn't even plan to post this until my
best friend told me that it was really good and that I should let you all
read it. So that is what I'm doing and if you like it and you think my best
friend was right.shout a big: "THANKS LAUREN!" or something of the sort.ok
please don't.anyways I should probably let you all read it now, shouldn't
I? Yes, I thought so. Oh and sorry if there are any ? things, I'm
experimenting)
DISCLAIMER: you guys know the drill, blah, blah.only one disclaimer for the entire 'story', get it? Good.
Chapter 1: From Her Diary
Sometime in late June one year, Arabella Figg, sat down at her desk to write in her diary. Already knowing that old feelings would rise again, just like they always did.
Dear Diary,
I have just returned from the market, to buy some fruit.oh, he used to call me Fruit, in reference to my last name and just to piss me off. God, I used to hate that. Now I think I would give anything to hear his whispers of "Fruit" echoing around me as the six of us sat at breakfast. Ah, the school days. Silly cares as a silly schoolgirl. The simple life. But those days are long over.
At the time, all I ever wanted was for me to be that special girl, just for the moment. So many girls flew through his life, and I didn't want to be just another fling. Now, I don't think I would even mind being one of his flings.
But look at what he has become. The tangled mess, which I assume is his hair, hanging all the way to his elbows. The same hair of his, that I used to, still do and always will, long to run my fingers through. But now my fingers would probably get stuck. His face no longer glows and is tanned but sullen and pale with, what are now - thin white strips that I believe are supposed to be his lips. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, those small grey clouds that rested upon his face. I could have spent hours looking into those clouds, trying to look past the fog, and see the sky that I knew he held within. The fog seems to have thickened over the years, almost as if he is trying to hide that sky inside, or the birds that fly in it.
He doesn't seem like the boy I knew before. And he isn't. He has grown into a man. But that is not all that has changed. He may not have ever cared for his weekly dishes and side dishes of girls, but I know he cared for us, for them. How could this have changed so quickly? Deep down, I don't think that I truly believe he has changed. I don't want to believe that it is true. But I know it must be true, it has to be. Doesn't it?
I have spent 12 long years trying to get over him. A silly schoolgirl crush it may have seemed, but I now know, and have known for quite a while now, that it must be deeper. But were, and are, my feelings so deep because his were so shallow? Could I have loved him so much that he didn't need to love me back, as I could love for the both of us? No, that can't be it, either I am insane, or he loves me too. I think I am leaning towards the previous.
Anyways, I have spent 12 years trying to get over him, 'trying' being the key word here. I still cry out randomly, sometimes things will trigger my emotions and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes I see a black dog on the street and not knowing whether it is my imagination or not, I call the dog. Many times people stare but then when they see me they look away. I look older than I truly am, so all most people see is an old lady that's off her rocker. If only they knew how wrong they are. I'm as sane as can be. But then again, I don't imagine I can be all that sane after all that I have gone through.
This year will definitely be difficult. Harder than most, I know. He has escaped. And yet, I keep hoping that he will come and carry me off into the sunset. I also have to worry that he is after the boy. How am I supposed to battle these conflicting emotions I contain within myself? I know it will definitely not be easy. And what if he does come after the poor child, who I am careful to keep a close eye on, while the boy is still at his relatives'. I would come to rescue the boy and all that man would have to say is to trust him and that it would all be all right, and though it might be part of his master plan, I would fall for it. I would fall hard. Like I did, oh so many years ago.
I still somehow feel guilty for their death. Look at me. I can't even write their names down on a simple piece of paper, let alone say them. I should have listened to her. She told me to go after him. Forget what he had done in the past and I could set him on the right track. I thought he was drifting, I just didn't know how far off course he was. To think, a man, like him losing sight of the North Star. I never would have imagined it possible. It is clear that his mind drifted far too deep into the Southern hemisphere. He was unable to see the distant glow of that North Star, and even of my love. But I could have kept him North if I had truly tried. And I didn't try hard enough. I was so cowardly. I sat there, right in the front row as he gave himself to that horrible woman. I cried what he thought were tears of joy. Oh, if he had only known.
But she was his angel in every possible way. You just can't interfere with something like that. It's just wrong. There was nothing wrong with her I suppose. Except for the fact that she married my true love. She cheated on him left and right, although, I suppose he probably did the same to her. She never loved him. And he most likely never loved her. They could look into each other's eyes and see lust, never love. She treated him with no respect. Only using him to have his child, which I am not even sure if she ever did, I hope not. Okay, I know that was not necessarily relevant but that is how I have felt for all these years. And now that she has left him, and is remarried, he is single, and free. Free, in more than one meaning of the word.
Like I have said before, if he came for me, I would not have a choice. I would feel comfort in his arms and let him sweep me off my feet. Feeling like a princess, I would make no objection. At the time, that is. Later I would come to my senses. I always did. But most likely, by the time I did, it would already be too late. For all I know about the situation, for all I know about him himself, I might already be dead. I may have always come to my senses later on, but it was also always too late. I came to my senses to save him, when he was already gone. I came to my senses to love him, when I already had every reason to hate him.
I sit here at my desk, and I have no idea what I am supposed to do when I finish writing this. Something very anonymous. Perhaps, go to the library and leave it in a book. I could do the old message in a bottle thing. Or even better. Leave it where a dog would go. No or yes? Do I really want him to find this? To know how I feel? Yes. Yes I do. There is a park down the street; I can leave it there, on a bench. Dogs go to the park all the time, right? Well, I don't know, but I do know that he has always been particularly fond of parks such as the one down the street. So.why not?
Oh, and Dear, if you do find this. Please, don't come for me. Not unless you don't intend to leave me or hurt me. I don't think I can handle it again.
I shall love you for always.
Sighing and smiling, full of sadness and happiness, all at the same time, Arabella ripped out the page in her diary that she had just finished. Digging in her desk drawer, she found a light blue envelope that matched the paper inside of her diary. She had saved that particular stationary and envelope set, knowing that one day, someday, she would use it. She neatly folded her letter up before gently slipping it into the blue envelope.
Smiling still, she seized her wand, pointed it at herself while mumbling a few words and soon the violet eyed, black haired beauty was nothing but a senior citizen.
Beginning to hum to herself, Arabella skipped down the stairs and out the door forgetting that she had a "bad leg".
Making her way down the street, attempting and failing, to appear to have a bad leg, she almost passed out cold when she caught a small glimpse of a large black dog. She normally would have looked twice, but she didn't think she had the heart that day. Gulping and quickening her pace, Arabella Figg tried to convince herself that it was nothing but tricks of the eyes and tried to abandon those particular thoughts that hovered heavily, weighing down her mind.
Finally arriving at Magnolia Park, Arabella walked over to her favorite bench while thinking, "It would be his favorite too.oh get these thoughts out of your head Bella!" She hugged the envelope to her chest tightly before setting the letter onto the bench. Then she remembered that she hadn't addressed the letter to Ianyone/I at all.
Pulling a pen out of her coat she once again picked up the letter and quickly wrote My Love.
She placed the letter back on the bench, tears forming in her eyes as she made her way back home.
DISCLAIMER: you guys know the drill, blah, blah.only one disclaimer for the entire 'story', get it? Good.
Chapter 1: From Her Diary
Sometime in late June one year, Arabella Figg, sat down at her desk to write in her diary. Already knowing that old feelings would rise again, just like they always did.
Dear Diary,
I have just returned from the market, to buy some fruit.oh, he used to call me Fruit, in reference to my last name and just to piss me off. God, I used to hate that. Now I think I would give anything to hear his whispers of "Fruit" echoing around me as the six of us sat at breakfast. Ah, the school days. Silly cares as a silly schoolgirl. The simple life. But those days are long over.
At the time, all I ever wanted was for me to be that special girl, just for the moment. So many girls flew through his life, and I didn't want to be just another fling. Now, I don't think I would even mind being one of his flings.
But look at what he has become. The tangled mess, which I assume is his hair, hanging all the way to his elbows. The same hair of his, that I used to, still do and always will, long to run my fingers through. But now my fingers would probably get stuck. His face no longer glows and is tanned but sullen and pale with, what are now - thin white strips that I believe are supposed to be his lips. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, those small grey clouds that rested upon his face. I could have spent hours looking into those clouds, trying to look past the fog, and see the sky that I knew he held within. The fog seems to have thickened over the years, almost as if he is trying to hide that sky inside, or the birds that fly in it.
He doesn't seem like the boy I knew before. And he isn't. He has grown into a man. But that is not all that has changed. He may not have ever cared for his weekly dishes and side dishes of girls, but I know he cared for us, for them. How could this have changed so quickly? Deep down, I don't think that I truly believe he has changed. I don't want to believe that it is true. But I know it must be true, it has to be. Doesn't it?
I have spent 12 long years trying to get over him. A silly schoolgirl crush it may have seemed, but I now know, and have known for quite a while now, that it must be deeper. But were, and are, my feelings so deep because his were so shallow? Could I have loved him so much that he didn't need to love me back, as I could love for the both of us? No, that can't be it, either I am insane, or he loves me too. I think I am leaning towards the previous.
Anyways, I have spent 12 years trying to get over him, 'trying' being the key word here. I still cry out randomly, sometimes things will trigger my emotions and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes I see a black dog on the street and not knowing whether it is my imagination or not, I call the dog. Many times people stare but then when they see me they look away. I look older than I truly am, so all most people see is an old lady that's off her rocker. If only they knew how wrong they are. I'm as sane as can be. But then again, I don't imagine I can be all that sane after all that I have gone through.
This year will definitely be difficult. Harder than most, I know. He has escaped. And yet, I keep hoping that he will come and carry me off into the sunset. I also have to worry that he is after the boy. How am I supposed to battle these conflicting emotions I contain within myself? I know it will definitely not be easy. And what if he does come after the poor child, who I am careful to keep a close eye on, while the boy is still at his relatives'. I would come to rescue the boy and all that man would have to say is to trust him and that it would all be all right, and though it might be part of his master plan, I would fall for it. I would fall hard. Like I did, oh so many years ago.
I still somehow feel guilty for their death. Look at me. I can't even write their names down on a simple piece of paper, let alone say them. I should have listened to her. She told me to go after him. Forget what he had done in the past and I could set him on the right track. I thought he was drifting, I just didn't know how far off course he was. To think, a man, like him losing sight of the North Star. I never would have imagined it possible. It is clear that his mind drifted far too deep into the Southern hemisphere. He was unable to see the distant glow of that North Star, and even of my love. But I could have kept him North if I had truly tried. And I didn't try hard enough. I was so cowardly. I sat there, right in the front row as he gave himself to that horrible woman. I cried what he thought were tears of joy. Oh, if he had only known.
But she was his angel in every possible way. You just can't interfere with something like that. It's just wrong. There was nothing wrong with her I suppose. Except for the fact that she married my true love. She cheated on him left and right, although, I suppose he probably did the same to her. She never loved him. And he most likely never loved her. They could look into each other's eyes and see lust, never love. She treated him with no respect. Only using him to have his child, which I am not even sure if she ever did, I hope not. Okay, I know that was not necessarily relevant but that is how I have felt for all these years. And now that she has left him, and is remarried, he is single, and free. Free, in more than one meaning of the word.
Like I have said before, if he came for me, I would not have a choice. I would feel comfort in his arms and let him sweep me off my feet. Feeling like a princess, I would make no objection. At the time, that is. Later I would come to my senses. I always did. But most likely, by the time I did, it would already be too late. For all I know about the situation, for all I know about him himself, I might already be dead. I may have always come to my senses later on, but it was also always too late. I came to my senses to save him, when he was already gone. I came to my senses to love him, when I already had every reason to hate him.
I sit here at my desk, and I have no idea what I am supposed to do when I finish writing this. Something very anonymous. Perhaps, go to the library and leave it in a book. I could do the old message in a bottle thing. Or even better. Leave it where a dog would go. No or yes? Do I really want him to find this? To know how I feel? Yes. Yes I do. There is a park down the street; I can leave it there, on a bench. Dogs go to the park all the time, right? Well, I don't know, but I do know that he has always been particularly fond of parks such as the one down the street. So.why not?
Oh, and Dear, if you do find this. Please, don't come for me. Not unless you don't intend to leave me or hurt me. I don't think I can handle it again.
I shall love you for always.
Sighing and smiling, full of sadness and happiness, all at the same time, Arabella ripped out the page in her diary that she had just finished. Digging in her desk drawer, she found a light blue envelope that matched the paper inside of her diary. She had saved that particular stationary and envelope set, knowing that one day, someday, she would use it. She neatly folded her letter up before gently slipping it into the blue envelope.
Smiling still, she seized her wand, pointed it at herself while mumbling a few words and soon the violet eyed, black haired beauty was nothing but a senior citizen.
Beginning to hum to herself, Arabella skipped down the stairs and out the door forgetting that she had a "bad leg".
Making her way down the street, attempting and failing, to appear to have a bad leg, she almost passed out cold when she caught a small glimpse of a large black dog. She normally would have looked twice, but she didn't think she had the heart that day. Gulping and quickening her pace, Arabella Figg tried to convince herself that it was nothing but tricks of the eyes and tried to abandon those particular thoughts that hovered heavily, weighing down her mind.
Finally arriving at Magnolia Park, Arabella walked over to her favorite bench while thinking, "It would be his favorite too.oh get these thoughts out of your head Bella!" She hugged the envelope to her chest tightly before setting the letter onto the bench. Then she remembered that she hadn't addressed the letter to Ianyone/I at all.
Pulling a pen out of her coat she once again picked up the letter and quickly wrote My Love.
She placed the letter back on the bench, tears forming in her eyes as she made her way back home.