A/N - OK I wrote this AGES ago but then decided to change the names and
submit it to original fiction (I also used it for my English short story
coursework! Lol) Anyway I dug out the original last night and so here it
is. . .
Also if MatthewPerryCrazy is reading this I know it's weird and I only live three hours away from London so I'm guessing we have the same laws and opinions lol!
The Long and Winding Road
Monica looked down at the garden. From where she was sitting she had a good view of the entire right side. From here she could see the little
bar-b-que, which he had bought on a whim last summer. She could see the
little pool that they had put in a few springs ago. She sighed. She had promised herself she wouldn't do this again, wouldn't spy on the people she cared about. She would let him deal with this on his own. Suddenly out of
the corner of her eye she saw him, coming out of the old greenhouse. Promises gone she resumed her position. From where she was sitting she had a good view of the entire right side. From here she could see the little
bar-b-que. . .
Chandler looked up from his digging. He had that feeling again. You know that feeling when you're on your own and you just feel like someone's watching you? He always got that feeling when he was in the garden, never anywhere else. Just the garden. And only the back garden. Strange that, he supposed it was because of all the time they had spent here. There was that feeling again. Chandler looked around. Nothing. He'd had that feeling since, since, since well, since everything happened. He inhaled deeply and went back to work, thinking about that dreaded night, only last week, on the Tuesday.
"Chandler," she screamed, "you've spent all our money on that little 'hobby' of yours",
"So?" he sneered back. Typical woman always nosing in his affairs. So what if he spent a bit of money? Or enjoyed the occasional trip to the casino? It'd be worth it in the end, but could she see that? No, she had to look at the irrelevant things. Like the fact that they had no money for next months rent. Chandler couldn't imagine a time when he had been happy with her. A time when they had sat in the back garden building pools. . .
"Chandler" she screeched silencing his thoughts.
He looked up abruptly.
"What are you going to do?" she said, her voice growing louder
"Nothing!!" he screamed, rising an octave higher that her
"Nothing?," she asked her voice suddenly calm," well if you do nothing, I'll go"
Chandler's next insult died on his lips. Leave? She wouldn't, she couldn't leave. Could she? No she wouldn't dare. Still her words stung. He looked up; she was staring at him waiting for his response.
"Fine," he replied in a voice colder than ice, "go"
Monica jumped back as though she'd been stung, then regaining her composure picked up her bag and left.
Chandler realised he had stopped working. He could remember every little thing he had said to her, since all the trouble started. He couldn't believe he could be so cruel and spiteful. That's why he stopped his daily visits to the casino. For her, even if she couldn't be there to see the result.
Monica looked down at Chandler; from where she was she couldn't quite see him. He was half covered by the old Oak in the centre of the right hand lawn. Again she sighed, this was starting to become a regular occurrence now. Her spying on Chandler and then sighing. It had been over a month now since she had started her spying. Since she and Chandler had gone their separate ways. Even though she normally had a memory like a goldfish she could remember in vivid detail what had happened after she walked out. After all it's not the kind of thing you forget.
Monica had to fight hard against her tears, the tears that threatened to engulf her if she let them. She had absolutely no control over the small car she was driving. The little Clio was swerving all over the place. The road ahead was long and winding, with headlights blinding her wherever she looked. Monica bent down to try and reach one of the patterned tissues she had brought with her, when she heard the blaring of a horn. She looked up just in time to see the huge truck smash into the front of her car.
Monica shivered. She didn't like remembering things like that. The next memory she had was of waking up in the ambulance, it was a miracle she had no real injuries. Monica looked up. Chandler. Getting up for his midnight raid on the fridge. She forgot all about the horror of the crash and went back to watching him.
Chandler looked up from his cheese, onion, bacon, tomato and ham salad sandwich. He had that feeling again, the one where he was being watched. Strange. It was the first time he had felt like this in the house. It was always the garden. And now that he thought about it, only in certain places at once. He shook his head.
"Get a grip," he told himself, with more courage than he felt.
Maybe he was being stalked, the stalker was watching him all the time, watching his every more, just waiting for him to. . .
"Stop it!" he told himself more sternly than before. Still, he'd had this feeling ever since, Monica left. It was weird that, that all this happened...wait! His cheese was getting soggy and his bacon was cold. He'd been raiding the fridge like this ever since he'd given up gambling. It was his way of dealing with the craving to run to the casino in the middle of the night. It was also his way of dealing with everything, since Monica was never coming back. Sighing he turned of the light and went to bed.
Monica looked up, she must have fallen asleep. She couldn't do that again. She had to be here every second of every day or she couldn't go, she couldn't leave him until she had helped him. He was getting over it a little bit, she knew that. He no longer thought about it every day. And his trips to the fridge were getting less and less. The road had been long and winding so far and he was halfway through. Monica knew it would be as tough for the next half, the half where he would hopefully emerge on the other side, completely fine. Monica went back out into the garden, which was the one place she knew she could always find Chandler.
Chandler looked at his reflection in the watering can; even before he saw the red eyes and the unshaven face he knew he wasn't a pretty sight. He had finally started to realise what he had given up and what he had lost last night. He had stopped his midnight raids on the fridge and that too was a reason why he looked terrible this morning. He started thinking about Monica. Why had he just let her go? He should have promised to change. Promised he'd be better, they could make it work this time. He shook his head. Regrets were useless now. The reality was she was gone and he was just going to have to deal with it. The question was would he get through it intact?
Monica looked down at him again. She was back in her original "hiding" place looking down at him in the in the greenhouse. Chandler looked terrible, but he was getting better. It was time for her to leave now. She had done well but he had to deal with the rest on his own. The rest of the road would be long and winding, but eventually he'd get over her death.
Also if MatthewPerryCrazy is reading this I know it's weird and I only live three hours away from London so I'm guessing we have the same laws and opinions lol!
The Long and Winding Road
Monica looked down at the garden. From where she was sitting she had a good view of the entire right side. From here she could see the little
bar-b-que, which he had bought on a whim last summer. She could see the
little pool that they had put in a few springs ago. She sighed. She had promised herself she wouldn't do this again, wouldn't spy on the people she cared about. She would let him deal with this on his own. Suddenly out of
the corner of her eye she saw him, coming out of the old greenhouse. Promises gone she resumed her position. From where she was sitting she had a good view of the entire right side. From here she could see the little
bar-b-que. . .
Chandler looked up from his digging. He had that feeling again. You know that feeling when you're on your own and you just feel like someone's watching you? He always got that feeling when he was in the garden, never anywhere else. Just the garden. And only the back garden. Strange that, he supposed it was because of all the time they had spent here. There was that feeling again. Chandler looked around. Nothing. He'd had that feeling since, since, since well, since everything happened. He inhaled deeply and went back to work, thinking about that dreaded night, only last week, on the Tuesday.
"Chandler," she screamed, "you've spent all our money on that little 'hobby' of yours",
"So?" he sneered back. Typical woman always nosing in his affairs. So what if he spent a bit of money? Or enjoyed the occasional trip to the casino? It'd be worth it in the end, but could she see that? No, she had to look at the irrelevant things. Like the fact that they had no money for next months rent. Chandler couldn't imagine a time when he had been happy with her. A time when they had sat in the back garden building pools. . .
"Chandler" she screeched silencing his thoughts.
He looked up abruptly.
"What are you going to do?" she said, her voice growing louder
"Nothing!!" he screamed, rising an octave higher that her
"Nothing?," she asked her voice suddenly calm," well if you do nothing, I'll go"
Chandler's next insult died on his lips. Leave? She wouldn't, she couldn't leave. Could she? No she wouldn't dare. Still her words stung. He looked up; she was staring at him waiting for his response.
"Fine," he replied in a voice colder than ice, "go"
Monica jumped back as though she'd been stung, then regaining her composure picked up her bag and left.
Chandler realised he had stopped working. He could remember every little thing he had said to her, since all the trouble started. He couldn't believe he could be so cruel and spiteful. That's why he stopped his daily visits to the casino. For her, even if she couldn't be there to see the result.
Monica looked down at Chandler; from where she was she couldn't quite see him. He was half covered by the old Oak in the centre of the right hand lawn. Again she sighed, this was starting to become a regular occurrence now. Her spying on Chandler and then sighing. It had been over a month now since she had started her spying. Since she and Chandler had gone their separate ways. Even though she normally had a memory like a goldfish she could remember in vivid detail what had happened after she walked out. After all it's not the kind of thing you forget.
Monica had to fight hard against her tears, the tears that threatened to engulf her if she let them. She had absolutely no control over the small car she was driving. The little Clio was swerving all over the place. The road ahead was long and winding, with headlights blinding her wherever she looked. Monica bent down to try and reach one of the patterned tissues she had brought with her, when she heard the blaring of a horn. She looked up just in time to see the huge truck smash into the front of her car.
Monica shivered. She didn't like remembering things like that. The next memory she had was of waking up in the ambulance, it was a miracle she had no real injuries. Monica looked up. Chandler. Getting up for his midnight raid on the fridge. She forgot all about the horror of the crash and went back to watching him.
Chandler looked up from his cheese, onion, bacon, tomato and ham salad sandwich. He had that feeling again, the one where he was being watched. Strange. It was the first time he had felt like this in the house. It was always the garden. And now that he thought about it, only in certain places at once. He shook his head.
"Get a grip," he told himself, with more courage than he felt.
Maybe he was being stalked, the stalker was watching him all the time, watching his every more, just waiting for him to. . .
"Stop it!" he told himself more sternly than before. Still, he'd had this feeling ever since, Monica left. It was weird that, that all this happened...wait! His cheese was getting soggy and his bacon was cold. He'd been raiding the fridge like this ever since he'd given up gambling. It was his way of dealing with the craving to run to the casino in the middle of the night. It was also his way of dealing with everything, since Monica was never coming back. Sighing he turned of the light and went to bed.
Monica looked up, she must have fallen asleep. She couldn't do that again. She had to be here every second of every day or she couldn't go, she couldn't leave him until she had helped him. He was getting over it a little bit, she knew that. He no longer thought about it every day. And his trips to the fridge were getting less and less. The road had been long and winding so far and he was halfway through. Monica knew it would be as tough for the next half, the half where he would hopefully emerge on the other side, completely fine. Monica went back out into the garden, which was the one place she knew she could always find Chandler.
Chandler looked at his reflection in the watering can; even before he saw the red eyes and the unshaven face he knew he wasn't a pretty sight. He had finally started to realise what he had given up and what he had lost last night. He had stopped his midnight raids on the fridge and that too was a reason why he looked terrible this morning. He started thinking about Monica. Why had he just let her go? He should have promised to change. Promised he'd be better, they could make it work this time. He shook his head. Regrets were useless now. The reality was she was gone and he was just going to have to deal with it. The question was would he get through it intact?
Monica looked down at him again. She was back in her original "hiding" place looking down at him in the in the greenhouse. Chandler looked terrible, but he was getting better. It was time for her to leave now. She had done well but he had to deal with the rest on his own. The rest of the road would be long and winding, but eventually he'd get over her death.