Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
C Shorts - 1. The One (Prompt 458)
[color=rgb(40,40,40)][font=Arial][size=4]Prompt 458 – Creative[/size][/font][/color] [color=rgb(40,40,40)][font=Arial][size=4]a yellow rose, a goodbye note, a stuffed rabbit, balloons, and a fork.[/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]He sat down at the table for ‘breakfast’ at noon, gazing around the small lifeless apartment. The few pictures on the wall were meaningless designs; the once beautiful living room sat unused; the sparsely stocked kitchen had its decorations removed long ago. He lifted his fork from the microwave meal to silence his body’s complaints.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]The only thing in the room that was worth anything, the only thing that mattered to him, and the only thing that could hold his interest as he fed his body was a single yellow rose in small plastic vase that sat directly in front of his spot at the tiny kitchen table. Yellow was Braden’s favorite color, as it had been that way since he was a child. Braden was a hopeless romantic and had always had stories of love and happiness. When he went to confess his long hidden feelings to Braden, he carried a single yellow rose.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]It had crushed him when Braden had said that he had never seen him in the same way. He had felt so lost. He couldn’t face their friends. He didn’t know what to say to his family at home where Braden had spent half his life growing up. Braden was his best friend, so he had no idea who to turn to when he was rejected. There were a few people he could confide in at times but he was too ashamed to tell them that he had ruined the most important relationship in his life. He could always shamelessly tell Braden anything without receiving judgement. After returning to his apartment, he’d crawled into bed. He hadn’t wanted to do anything; he had wanted to do something. He’d spent hours tossing and turning trying to think of a solution, a silver-lining, or an escape. He had wanted to sleep but couldn’t even consider it a possibility. He barely noticed the sunlight disappear from his bedroom and appear once again. A short while after the light’s appearance, he heard a solid knock at the door. He had chosen to ignore it until the knock returned a minute later. He forced himself to move, to get out of bed, and to make it to the door. There he discovered his nervous best friend.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]There was a moment where he had truly believed he was hallucinating. When Braden spoke, a simple hello, he smiled at the beautiful voice and the man who possessed it as he pushed the door open and stepped back. Words started tumbling from Braden’s lips. Braden had been thinking. He hadn’t been the only one who had spent his night on the activity. Braden repeated that he had never consciously thought of him in such a way before but he couldn’t ignore the feelings the confession had stirred and that he had responded too quickly. He was nearly in tears when Braden held up the yellow rose asking for a do-over. Braden was giving him a chance. He was giving them a chance. He closed the short distance between them and pulled Braden into a tight hug. It had been a while before they moved apart.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]On their first date, they went to the local carnival. They walked from game to game, joking as they often had. They shared a funnel cake, as was tradition. They boarded their favorite spinning ride with a silly name, as they always did but this time they held hands. There was no question about it, holding Braden’s hand felt right. Even so, he was still unsure about it all. Maybe, Braden was playing along for just the night. Maybe, he was doing this because of their friendship. Maybe, Braden would never be able to feel the same way for him. These doubts constantly shadowed their night of joking, enjoying the festivities, and exploration. On their way out of the festival they were handed balloons that carried some local company’s logo. These balloons carried away his doubts into the night as Braden kissed him. Hesitantly at first, then with an unmatchable passion. [/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]He stood up attempting to shake the memories. He threw away his fork along with the half finished freezer meal on his way out of the room. He stepped into his bedroom slowly moving toward his desk. He sat at his desk to attempt to write when he spotted an old worn-out stuffed rabbit sitting on his bedside table. It was Braden’s rabbit. Braden would often sleep over growing up. It wasn’t unusual for Braden to have nightmares, sometimes they were so bad that they didn’t go back to sleep and just talked. He had asked his parents to help him buy Braden a stuffed animal and they did. When he gave Braden the stuffed rabbit, he told Braden the rabbit would help him fight off and run from the scary things so he could sleep all night. Braden had started calling the rabbit Mr. Sleepy and insisted on having it in the room he slept in, even as an adult. So, when Braden began spending more nights in his apartment than not, Mr. Sleepy migrated over. [/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]He tore his eyes from the tired old rabbit and pulled open the desk drawer to grab one of his old story ideas. Sat atop old scribbled on napkins, sticky-notes, and loose sheets of paper was Braden’s goodbye letter. Braden had scrawled out apologies and vague explanations then signed with love. This was the last thing one of them had given to the other. This was the last thing Braden had told him. This was the last thing Braden had ever written.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
[color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][i][background=transparent]Maybe it’s time to move, [/background][/i][/size][/font][/color][color=rgb(0,0,0)][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]he thought.[/background][/size][/font][/color]
- 10
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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