Unsaid | Teen Ink


July 14, 2011
By CatieKorn BRONZE, Shiloh, Illinois
CatieKorn BRONZE, Shiloh, Illinois
2 articles 1 photo 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"A writer only begins a book. A reader finishes it." -Samuel Johnson

I slipped through the large wooden entrance to the church. A long train descended down the empty space between the pews. It was covered in irises, my favorite. Candles were the only light to a dark occasion. The scene was abandon except for one lone soul, Erick. I felt an unexpected prick in my chest as I moved soundlessly toward him. My mouth shifted upward.

It felt like ages since I last saw him in his black basketball shorts, his skin gleaming. He bounced the basketball down to the ground twice before releasing it with a leap in the air. The ball bounced off the backboard and back to him. Erick was never good at basketball. No matter how hard he tried and he always did. A coy giggle rolled off of my lips. He whipped around and our eyes met. He smiled. I love his smile.

I only had a few steps left to him. I called to him, letting him know I was there. He did not move. I stared at him baffled. My steps involuntarily quickened. He always responds with his smile. The smile that always makes my heart flutter and my face grow just a bit rosier. I found myself inches from his face. Erick did not look up from a picture that he clutched desperately in his hands. His black hair shadowed his blue eyes from my view. But I saw something in the shadow glitter and eventually slid down his cheek and onto the picture that he was protecting in his hands.

“Erick,” my voice was barely above a whisper “Please Erick tell me what’s wrong.” My hand found his cheek. He still would not look up from the picture. His body started to shiver. I jolted my hand back to my side. “Erick, please, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” My voice was becoming more demanding and more eager with every one of my pleads and every one of his sobs. Another prick hit my chest came every time that he ignored my begging. It hurt more each time.

His hand finally shifted from his lap to the cushioned seat beside him. His hand relaxed to let the picture breath. My eyes were momentarily glued to the picture. It was me. My eyes moved to him as he lifted his head upward and his gaze was fixated on something in the front of the church. I tore my eyes from the sadness in his eyes to follow his stare. There sitting in front of the church was wooden death, a coffin just a few inches longer than I am.

Panic began streaking through me as I darted to my feet and to deaths side. My panic began to progressively get worst as I stared at myself. But I did not look like me it looked mangled, beaten, and lifeless. I looked at a single cut that ran up my bodies arm. I recoiled as pain shot up my arm and a flash of a shimmering knife came into my vision. I soundlessly cried out. I crashed to the floor landing on my knees. My sight was blurring with agony filled flashes.

After what felt like hours of painful remembrance my eyesight was under my control again and quickly found Erick. He was kneeling next to me clutching my lifeless hand in his. His heavy uneven breathing was breaking the silence of the dark church. I lifted myself off the ground and closed some of the distance between us. I knelt next to him, silently morning along with him.

Once his breathing somewhat evened his velvet voice echoed through the shadows. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve saved you.” His breathing became uneven again but he continued. “I should’ve never let you walk home alone. I should’ve never let you go.” I felt even more pricks continually in my chest. Erick’s voice was now shivering just as his body was. I reached out and rested my hand on the back of his neck. He relaxed slightly at my touch as if he had felt it. “I never got to say goodbye,” he continued “I never got to…” He hesitated before lifting one of his hands off of mine and onto my cheek. “I never got to tell you that I love you.”

Erick slipped his hand from my cold cheek to an object that had been kneeling next to him. He brought it up to my limp hand and neatly folded and the object between my hands. It was an iris, my favorite. Moving from his spot of confession, he stood and gazed down at me. I stood as well but did not gaze as myself but at him. I reach out longing to comfort him, to touch him. My hand lightly touched his cheek. “I love you too” I said. I had some things that were also unsaid. Erick’s turned in my direction his mournful eyes searching. “Julies?”

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