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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Young Adult · #2020872
Midnight, a magical time.
The time struck twelve, bells from the nearby St. Mary's tolled a mournful lullaby to celebrate the hour. Midnight. It was time for princesses to rush from their princes in a frantic hurry, it was time for spells to be cast and broken, it was time for a new day's birth- a fresh canvas to be painted, a new cup of coffee, another word written. It's long fabled that midnight is a magical time, the hour of mystical happenings as most slumber.

Midnight.

A child stays up past his bed time, his blankets pulled over his head as he excitedly turns the colorful page of his favorite comic book, straining his eyes under the light of a flashlight to watch his hero save the damsel. Adrenalin pumps through that young body. From breaking the rule of his bedtime and from awaiting what happens next...

...in the next room, a husband sleeps where a wife lays awake, her eyes searching the void of darkness for answers. The diagonal slashes of light from the window slant across the wall in a symmetrical pattern but can never offer her enough light to understand her situation. Bitterly comforted by the sound of her husband's breath beside her as he peacefully rests in ignorance of this woman's struggle. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go? Why had she done it? Why could she never do anything right? Who would she tell? No one.. No one would understand. No one would understand that moment of weakness she had, that moment that turned into a reoccurring sin. She turns her head on her pillow, looking at her husband's serene face, examining his all too familiar features. She silently asks him, "What happened?" "What happened to the days when you were all I wanted? When you made me feel so...beautiful?" Her hand absently runs over her belly before her fingers clench in the silk of her nightgown. How did it come to this? Where she laid beside the man she loved, but had another man's child in her womb...

...a few buildings over, a man finishes his eighth glass of his choice vodka. His last glass. He'll try to sleep after this. The warmth of alcohol has made him feel sleepy enough to finally rest his aching body. The haze has been pulled over his senses like a favorite blanket, hugging his worries and regrets until they were nothing more than distant thoughts of a world he wasn't apart of right now. He leans his head back in his chair and releases a deep, deep, breath through his nostrils and relaxed his muscles. Yes, sleep, a mistress whom he couldn't deny he needed yet she cruelly denied him most nights. And on the nights she did allow him to grasp her, to hold her in his arms, to close his eyes as she kissed his forehead tenderly- she only tricked him with glimpses of a broken life he wish he had, of places he wish he could be, women he wish he had. Most of all, she reminded him of his childhood. Of his father's wrath and his mother's abandonment. A constant reminder of how worthless he truly was. Not even his parents, the ones who were supposed to love him from the start, had been able to care about him. What did that make him? Nothing. Worse than nothing. The only thing that kept him going was his job, and the woman he occasionally slept with. Sure, she was married and had a son, but they were careful enough to avoid being caught. Damn, he wished she was here now. His brows, dotted with sweat, furrowed at this thought. The man finishes his ninth glass of his choice vodka. His last glass...

...down the street, an adolescent hears her parent's door click shut and her heart becomes aflutter with excitement and fear. She waits a few minutes, hearing the voices quiet into sleep, before she uncovers herself from her comforter and gets out of bed. She is fully dressed, aside from wearing any shoes. A low cut shirt and skinny jeans, and her favorite sweatshirt giving her comfort in this terrifying yet awesome moment. She grabs her bag, her phone, and her boots, before oh-so cautiously opening her window and reaching one leg up over the sill, then slowly, the next, until she holds herself outside and finds footing on the roof. Her breath is in soft pants, she knows she's dead if she gets caught but...she tells herself that she deserves this. As she slips, unnoticed, out of her house and out into the world- an air of victory over comes her. She did it! She made it out! Now, to meet with the boy that occupied her thoughts...

...not far from there, a couple kisses in passion. Both young and unpracticed, but both panting with thrill of the other's close proximity. His hands wander from their original place on her hips, up her back slowly and cupping her cheeks as her hands explored beneath his shirt. They pull apart briefly, catching breath before immediately rejoining in the same hungry and messy fashion. Both want this..
She wants this. She has known him for years and secretly wished he'd be all hers, and he was the guy who smiled at her from his locker down the hallway. He was the guy that silently sat beside her in the gym as others danced with their friends, their significant others, laughing, kissing, living. He was the guy that texted her and made her smile, even when her world was crumbling- as her dad left for Iraq again, and her mom did everything she could to not break down crying in front of her and her younger brother. He was a constant comforting figure in her life, one that her dad never had been. She had become dependent on him to pull her through this, and she had faith that he would. They were perfect for each other after all. Everyone said so. She knew that this, this right here, was love.
He wants this. She's so hot.
His phone interrupts them and he sighs, and she begs him to ignore it with a soft whimper. He kisses her nose and leans over to grab the device from his dresser, to turn it off and to keep it from interrupting again. He acknowledges a text from another girl, saying she had just left and where he wanted to meet her. Oh crap..he had forgotten he had made plans. But that seemed unimportant as he felt a hot mouth kissing his neck and a warm, curvy body press against him. He turns his phone off and tosses it aside...

It's no longer midnight and the minutes tick on. The moment of magic is gone, just like that. And life resumes it's fateful course. But what happens next?

The girl stops the boy, suddenly feeling nervous. He persists, she begs him to wait. Let's take things slow. I'm not ready. Take things slow? What things? The relationship. What relationship? ..What? You thought this was... The girl leaves in shame, thinking of her father, wishing he was here and the boy sits alone in bed, annoyed. Why were females always so needy? No big deal. He grabs his cell phone and finds a replacement..

The teenage girl who was once excited to see a guy she liked, was now alone in the cold streets, stood up by the guy she thought liked her. He was always making her smile. She was so stupid, of course he stood her up! Like she was special? No. She turns to go home, when her phone buzzes. She smiles at the glowing screen..."Hey, sorry! I fell asleep! You still wanna hang out?" Maybe she is special after all..

The man finishes his tenth glass of his choice vodka. His last glass.

The wife falls asleep with a plan in her head. She'd tell the man tomorrow of her pregnancy, and ask him his ideas. Maybe he wouldn't be angry. Maybe he'd stop drinking and ask her to leave her husband. A smile lined her lips. Yes, she'd do that..

The boy finishes his comic book, flicks off the flash light and goes to bed.
© Copyright 2014 Jennah Marie (quietlistener at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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