Haven't written in a while but I stumbled upon some of my past pieces of work, and I found a few I had put together for my Creative Writing subject last semester. You may recognise bits and pieces here and there, but here's a story anyway.
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"P-p-please s-sir, I-I'd like a strawberry i-i-ice-cr-cream cone."
The seemingly huge man gazed at him from behind the counter. The heat was sweltering that day, and it was important, yes, crucial that he had some ice-cream. With expert movements, the huge man whipped up a crispy wafer cone, fresh from the wafer-maker, and scooped a heavenly mound of strawberry ice-cream into it. The little boy glowed excitedly in wait for his daily treat.
With utmost generosity, the huge man presented the cone to the little boy, his whiskers twitching, "It's on me today, Nervous. Enjoy!" A lovely smile painted itself across the little boy's face. Thanking him, he trudged towards his usual swing, the one at the far end of the playground, and sat down to his tasty trophy.
Nervous now sat outside the cathedral at the square. Every once in a while he reached into his bag and threw out a handful of breadcrumbs to the pigeons. They flocked to him, greedily picking at the golden crumbs with great voracity. The intimidating statue of David stood high above him, casting a shade over the cathedral. More birds crowded into the shade to reap the goodness off the floor.
He sighed, his mime make-up crumpling. The square was rather quiet at this time of the day, everybody was sitting indoors, sipping hot chocolate. Winter had yet to come, but the sky was a shade of steel, and cruel storms were brewing. Nervous shivered in his mime suit, and reached to pull on his thick overcoat. Now cosy and snug in the warmth, Nervous packed up for the day and started walking.
The cottage was at a lone clearing, just outside of town. It was left to him, by whom, he didn't know, but he had no one, no one. A mossy pond wasn't far off, and poor Nervous trudged gloomily towards it. Tiny toadstools looked to him, and whispered anxiously to one another on the approach of the looming giant. A little mushroom asked her mother about him.
Nervous sat alone at the bank, hugging his knees. Why hadn't he come? He'd promised to come watch him, since four years ago. Nervous had been waiting all this time in vain. He looked into the dark mirror of water that reflected a lovely face.
Hadn't Narcissus once knelt at these banks? He'd fallen in love with the boy in the water, adorned with locks of golden hair. Nervous stretched to pluck a flower, and stuck it in his own dark hair. His always seemed untamed; they stood out in stubborn curls, unwilling to flatten, as if crying out to be noticed.
He now began to hum a tune, a tune so slow and mournful. The flowers crowded around him in sheer curiosity as Nervous pulled out the locket around his neck. He flicked it open at a touch, to be greeted by the smile of his lover's face. He had the same dark hair, only the slightest bit wavy, and wore on his head a brown headband. Nervous caressed the worn-out photograph with trembling fingertips.
He'd promised to come, for four years he'd waited for him, day after day, at the square. They had been so happy together, until the authorities found out- they weren't just the friends they claimed to be. That's when it all happened in a rush.
Nervous clung desperately to the steady frame of his lover, but they soon removed him. They questioned them as they would criminals, and they stood in shame, handcuffs around their wrists. They made them promise never to communicate again.
How could he? Surely he had more courage, more common sense to know nothing that did was wrong? Surely love would prevail? And yet, he still hadn't turned up after four years.
A small chuckle escaped from his throat. He wasn't coming, and Nervous knew it. So many months had been wasted waiting for the lover that never came back. Nervous had decided- he would wait no more.
Lying at the bank now, he stared into the water. It was clear, but he still could not see the bottom. How deep was it? He dipped a finger into the water, breaking the mirror-like reflection. A pair of melancholic eyes started back at him, in their depths stood a little boy, licking ice-cream. A boy who stuttered, a boy who sat at the swings alone.
Nervous began to peel off his clothes. First, he kicked off his shoes, then slipped off his socks. He took off everything, one by one, until there was nothing left, save for the silver locket on a chain around his neck. He squatted on the bank, and sunk a leg into the pond. It was freezing, but he barely felt it.
Slowly, he lowered himself into the cold water, oblivious to his surroundings. It was just him and the calm water. The water came up to his shoulders, as he stood on the slippery rocky bottom of the pond. He felt the plants around his ankles, reaching for him, inviting him to their home. Nervous finished his song and went underwater. The water soaked his hair as he lay down at the bottom, and as he opened his eyes towards the sky, he smiled.
The stars were waiting for him.
He took a deep breath.
