This is a regular column featuring original fiction by and for high school students, provided by Figment.com, an online community writing site for young people.
There I was standing off on stage left, waiting so anxiously for what was to come next. It was the closing song of our final performance, the senior cabaret. My heart was quivering and my breaths were broken by shivers. I closed my eyes as the first chord was strummed, and I heard through the speakers the intake of a steadied breath.
Then, he sang.
Softly at first, with his low baritone voice, but with growing power as the tune became stronger. The music caressed my soul and his words about a cold and broken hallelujah entranced me. Tears leaked out of closed lids as the ache of lost chances flowed through my being. I opened my eyes.
There he was, standing tall and strong, dressed completely in black. His eyes were shaded from view as his voice cracked from a hallelujah. He was the boy from my childhood, and the man with whom I would never have a chance. He was a realist and a poet, an independent and above all else, my best friend. The flow of the rhythm and the sound of his voice uplifted my soul and made it take flight. A smile crept across my face despite the tears and broken hallelujah.
I was a dreamer, and the melody of his voice only caused my fantasies to further unwind. I was a hopeless romantic who had been desperately in love with the lanky, shaggy haired boy from my childhood and the fiery, strong-willed man of my present.
I heard the music fade and the echo of the last hallelujah vibrated through every soul in the auditorium. I doubted I was the only one who had been brought to tears by his performance of the impassioned tune. The silence of the audience broke when one clap led to an eruptive applause. I saw him force a smile as a lone tear traveled slowly down his cheek. No words could be said, and with a simple nod he walked off the stage and approached me. I could see his eyes clearly now, they glistened as the sadness of this goodbye bore down upon his soul. Silently, he reached out and gently wiped away the tears now cascading down my cheeks.
“Please, don’t cry,” he whispered, holding my face softly in his hands. He leaned in and tenderly placed his lips on mine, not once stopping in hesitation. Warmth spread from his lips and slowly the heat of the passion swelled within me.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he assured me. I smiled trough the tears that were changing from those of sorrow to that of the purest happiness. The applause began again, louder this time, and all I could do was smile and cry.
“Are you alright?” a different voice said. I looked down at the boy who had spoken to me, and the happiness of the moment faded and left a hollow feeling in my heart. The boy who had just kissed me was still on the stage. My mind had wandered, falling victim to my dreams. It wasn’t real, that perfect moment never happened.
So there he was, for real this time, standing in all black as the audience applauded. There he was, walking off the stage and making his way towards me with dry eyes. Then, there he went, brushing by me without glancing back, the realistic man who never once thought this should have a chance.
- Alexa M.
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