One Shots etc. - Page 2 - The Black Parade

**Juliet** · 08-18-2007, 03:17 PM

Everyone can write if they try hard enough

But thank you!

So this isn't a one-shot and it's not actually MCR related :/ so if I should take it off, that's ok, but I thought I'd post it anyway - I'm not too proud of it, but whatever.

Light

A light that shines
not so brightly
but brightly enough
to illuminate all that is wrong with me;
the way my mind works
tells me I'm no good
and I know it's right and true.
The light that shines,
touching my head so softly
but it burns
because I am all wrong.

There are bright lights up ahead
that do but blind me.
I'm blinded and I'm hurting
and I am stuck in this cave;
with naught but three lights
that blind and burn
to show me all that is wrong with me.

An escape is far from inevitable;
with bright lights blocking every path.
I am trapped in confusion
and ignorance.
With nothing but a light
that tells me I am wrong.
I am wrong.

punkette22 · 08-18-2007, 04:25 PM

You should be proud of it! It was so good!

**Juliet** · 08-18-2007, 07:47 PM

4AM Forever

Rosy sighed, leaning her head back against the wall and letting tears slip down her cheeks. She’d spent all day fighting them and was tired of having to appear ‘okay’. She breathed in ragged sobs and lay down on her bed. It had finally sunk in, she’d never see him again. As this single thought buzzed around in her head, she cried more and more; her tears never seemed to cease and were completely unabated.
After who knew how long, she heard someone trudge up the stairs. Assuming it was her mother; Rosy immediately got up and wiped away her tears, applying more make-up to hide the redness and puffiness.
“Rosy? You in there, sweetheart?”
“Mhmm.”
Her mum opened the door and popped her head around. Seeing her daughter so upset, she walked right in, shutting the door behind her.
She sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her. Rosy sat beside her and bit her lip.
“Sweetie, it’s ok to be upset, y’know. People will understand. You can cry as much as you like.”
Rosy looked up at her mum with doleful eyes.
“I don’t know what to do, Mum,” she whispered, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know who I am without him.”
Her mum stroked her hair as she talked.
“I know. It’s going to be hard; but it will be ok eventually.”
“How?! I don’t know what to do.”
“What would you normally do in this situation?”
“Call Frankie.”
“...Well, why don’t you try that?” her mum suggested.
Rosy just looked at her as though her mum was trying to make a joke.
“Just call his phone and talk as though it were him on the other end,” her mum explained.
Rosy just stood up, mumbling for her mum to leave. As soon as the door had shut, she collapsed on her bed in tears again. She cursed her mum.
What a stupid fucking idea! He’s not there to pick up! He’s never going to be there to pick up.
However, the more and more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

“Hey, this is Frank. Leave a message; I’ll call you back when I can. Bye!”
Rosy hung up, her hands shaking.
She tried again.
“Hey, this is Frank. Leave a message; I’ll call you back when I can. Bye!”
“...Hi, Frankie...It’s me...Sissy,” she paused for a moment, still expecting to hear his giggly voice reply. She stayed silent a while longer.
“...I-.. It was your funeral today” she whispered, choking.
“I didn’t like it, Frankie. Not at all.. I just miss you. I don’t know what to do without you.”
She paused again, finding it strange yet still slightly comforting talking on the phone, even though he wasn’t there.
“I wish you were still here. I hate not seeing you. Or talking to you. I feel like there’s a great, gaping hole in my chest now... It’s like there’s something missing from me. You know that feeling when you think you’ve forgotten something important but you don’t know what? It’s like that, only I know I’m missing something, I know what that something is, and it’s the most important thing... Oh, God, it’s horrible, Frank...But at least, you’ll never have to feel it; it is the worst... I just want the ground to swallow me whole.”

Rosy spent the next few hours on the phone, talking to Frank’s voicemail. As she ran out of chatter, she felt comforted but still incredibly lonely.
She sighed when she looked at the time.
“I’m so alone, Frankie.
It’s 4am.
4am and I’m alone.
Alone and completely lost.”
She sighed again and hung up, lying on her bed.
By 5am, Rosy was sleeping, dreaming peacefully about her best friend and everything they shared.

The following day she walked to Frankie’s house, and went to sit in his bedroom.
She picked up his favourite guitar and plucked the strings. She couldn’t play - he had tried to teach her on one occasion and failed miserably, vowing never to try again - but she liked holding his guitar close to her.
It was cheering, knowing that he surrounded her as she sat on his bed, looking around his bedroom.
She stayed at Frank’s house all day, trying to capture his essence, to fill the void that was swallowing all the happiness she’d ever felt.
She left at around midnight with a heavy heart. It felt as though he might come back just as she turned the corner, and she’d miss him. But when his parents retired to bed, she felt like she should leave, despite not wanting to.

She walked down to the cemetery and walked through all the graves, looking at the names and dates, wondering about their lives and who would’ve missed them when they died. It made her think about all the sadness in the world, and how that, no matter how bad things got, as long as you had someone you could talk to and that would be there for you, you would be ok. And she had just lost that person.
It was as she realised this, that she came to his grave.
She sat cross-legged in front of it and reached out to trace the words with her finger. It was there that she cried the most.
In front of her sat stone-cold, undeniably real evidence that Frank was gone and not coming back.

At some point during the early hours of that morning, it started to rain; not the sort that soaks you through without you noticing, nor the torrential sort, just plain, old, boring summer rain.
Rosy rolled her eyes, how is it that it always rains whenever someone is upset? It seemed so cliché. But she stayed sat at his stone nonetheless, not wishing to leave.

It was only as the sun starting to peek over the horizon at about 4am, that she realised how stiff and tired she was. She had sat in the graveyard for four hours, trying to find Frank somehow; trying to get some sort of closure.
She looked at the horizon through the trees and tried to tell herself that it was a new morning, and time to start a life without him by her side, but she couldn’t. She still needed his support, she still needed his memories and she couldn’t cast them aside so quickly. She wished that the sun would stop rising and sink again, for it signalled that it was time for her to go, and she just wasn’t ready.
“It’s 4am, Frankie. 4am; you’re gone and I’m alone.”
She didn’t cry any more; her eyes had run dry, she just sat and tried to will time to go backwards.
A few seconds later she heard feet scuffing the dirt path between the two halves of the cemetery.
Rosy looked up and saw a small, black clad figure walk towards her.
She leapt up.
“Frank?”
The person looked at her and smiled. He carried on walking and as he got closer to her, he took her hand for a second and smiled deep into her eyes, still walking.
Rosy’s eyes found new tears then and she cried, but not of sadness; she laughed and cried simultaneously, unable to process what was happening.
She looked behind her about to call out to him as he walked further away, but he was gone.
Her smile instantly faded and she weaved through the headstones, trying to find him again.
He was well and truly gone.
She ran all the way to the end gates before turning back. As she returned to Frank’s patch, she rubbed her eyes, telling herself that it was simply exhaustion and grief that made that happen. He couldn’t have come back.
She sat back down on the wet grass, and she noticed a cream envelope propped up on the stone.
It had her name on the front and she frowned as she opened it.
“There’s beauty in your tears, Sissy, but I don’t want to see you cry. It’s ok to feel happy, you know. It’s ok to smile again and move on. I know you won’t let it slip away. You will always hold tight to me, I know. Moving on doesn’t mean letting me slip away. I know you know it’s ok to live after me.
You can’t keep this 4am forever.
Goodbye, Siss.
Your Frankie xx"
Tears poured from Rosy’s eyes and she read the letter over and over, bewilderment clear in her eyes.
Once she had finally analysed and processed every letter and word in the note, she got up, putting the letter in its envelope in her pocket and walking away from Frank’s grave.
The sun had risen a little more by this point and it cast a golden glow over the dew that had settled, making everything look magical.
Rosy looked all around her as she walked through the woods back to her house, absorbing the beauty in everything.
She knew it was going to be hard.
She knew she’d need all the help she could get.
But she knew she could do it.
She was going to cherish everything she and Frank had, but she wasn’t going to let it hold her back and stop her living.
Like he said, it was ok for her to keep on living.
And while she wouldn’t stay sat in the graveyard at 4am, she was going to lock it away inside her forever.

The first thing she did after reaching her house was rush up to her bedroom. She looked at her wall where she stuck all of her and Frank’s photos and drawings and ticket stubs and moved things around to clear a big space.
In that space she stuck the envelope.
And underneath it in huge, curly letters she wrote:
4am Forever ♥

punkette22 · 08-18-2007, 08:50 PM

OMFG. That was so sad(but good)! It made me cry and it is very hard to make me cry!

Jo · 08-18-2007, 09:28 PM

Juliet! That was so sad, but it was so good. You captured Rosy's emotions so well; it was amazing. Great job.

And this is a great thread idea, too. ^_^

**Juliet** · 08-18-2007, 09:32 PM

^_^
Thank you both so much!

punkette22 · 08-18-2007, 10:27 PM

Your welcome.

**Juliet** · 08-20-2007, 07:25 PM

Again, this isn't strictly speaking MCR-related, although I have thought about creating a story around it :/
Not sure if it'll ever happen, but enjoy.
Oh and this was my original writing piece of coursework - A* ftw

Hope

I giggled nostalgically to myself as I let the water wash over my bare feet, sinking them into the already saturated sand.
I can remember near perfectly the first time he'd brought me here - an unsuccessful day to say the least.
The sun had shone about as brightly as a dying ten watt bulb and the sky wept bitterly, unable to keeps its eyes dry for even a minute. But we didn't dare let it dampen our spirits; "a picnic we had planned, so a picnic we shall have!" I remember him crying triumphantly, his buoyant mood lifting my own. However, as it turned out, our sunny smiles were not enough to save the day and we trooped back from the sand soaked through, hungry and deflated.
A bad first date if ever there was one!
But since then, the beach has always been 'our place' - our little escape from the suburban hustle and bustle. We didn't kick back on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a good TV program, we took a walk along the amber sand, hand in hand, content in each other's company. With the breeze lightly blowing us along and the waves lapping gently at our feet - it was the ultimate in peace and serenity. It was a haven. Now all it did was serve as a mocking reminder that I may never get to share those feelings and this place with him ever again.

I kicked at the water, misery washing over me once again, like the waves to my feet. It swallowed me whole and I kicked more and more, angry at the situation in which I found myself.
Pregnant, alone and shot through with worry.
It broke my heart everyday knowing that he was out putting his life on the line, fighting for his country, whilst I could do nothing but sit at home and pray for his safety. My heart skipped a beat every time the post came; every time the phone rang; every time the door bell sounded. Every time it was on TV, I would sit up straight, alert and waiting for any sign or news of my beloved.

I stopped kicking at the sea and stood still, staring out into the horizon. I stuffed my hands sulkily into my pockets and my left hand met the smooth coolness of paper; I allowed myself a small smile.
The letter.
His letter.
The only thing I had that permitted but a little ray of hope. It was gone three months since I'd received it, but still I clung to it like a child to its cuddly toy - it was my safety blanket. I naively felt that as long as I had his letter, he would survive; as long as I kept it with me, he would be ok.
When in reality, who knew what was going to happen? Not me... And certainly not him.
I could wind up a struggling single mother tending to a baby and a broken heart.
Or I could end up a mother and a wife - part of a small, but happy, family.
I hope for the latter, and I know he does too.
We may not have each other, but God only knows we have hope.
And hope is all you need... Right?

At that moment, the sun broke free of the grey cloud - outlining them in silver - and shone brightly, illuminating the cliff tops with a magical beauty. The bright green of the untamed grass glowed and the edges were tinted with a golden aura. The wind picked up slightly and blew my hair from my face as I closed my eyes against it. I took a deep breath, the salty sea air seeping up through my nostrils and invigorating me with a sense of refreshment.
I allowed my smile to grow a little wider before giggling again to myself, clutching his letter tightly to my chest.

Yes, sometimes a little ray of hope is all you need.

Jenn · 08-20-2007, 07:46 PM

Absolutely beautiful.
You write so well, and pretty much made me cry.
Literature usually doesn't make me cry.

I've read everyone one of or your pieces of work,
and I loved them all.

Keep writing. <3

**Juliet** · 08-20-2007, 07:47 PM

^^
Thank you so much!
<33

And for as long as it takes for my imagination to fail me, I'll keep writing.(Y)