A Story by Dreaming

This is a little short story inspired by my purchase of one of those little flip book type notebooks and the first picture I drew in it.


She stood silently, the pages of the little journalist’s notebook in her hands fluttering with the wind. She made no movement to close it though, it was obsolete now anyway. Despite that she couldn’t bring up the nerve to toss it aside or even let the wind carry it away. Instead she stepped forward standing over the wind vent, just as she had as a child on the cold days. Despite the dangers of standing nearly in the street it was worth it for the warm and playful air that swept her bangs up off her forehead and pulled at the rest of her hair. The multiple wild braids floating lazily, the metal beads dragging them down.

            “Belle!” called a familiar feminine voice, the soft almost musical tone playing into her reminiscent mood. She hid the notebook discretely behind her back, but made no reply to the other woman. The clicking of heels stopped, and a soft panting was the only indication of her companion.

            “What are you doing out here Belle?” she asked, the worry in her voice was nearly enough to send Belle into another bout of tears.

            “Remembering.” She replied quietly, her voice a pale and sickly contrast with her friends. The replying sigh tugged at her heart, yet the tears remained at bay.

            “I don’t think I can do this Mari…” she whispered, running her fingers over the familiar smooth leather cover of the notebook. A whistle echoed down the street, it was strange how much she could hear these days. A soft rustling brought her attention back,

            “You can’t give up of your dream…” Mari began but Belle’s harsh laugh cut her off. The sound was foreign to the both, harsh and dead.

            “Hah, dreams.” She scoffed, her lips curved in a sneer, “I can’t now, even if I did have a chance once. No ones going to want a blind reporter.” She continued the self loathing and despair welling up in her voice and throat cutting off any further remarks. She just held the notebook out again, almost offering it to Mari, while seeking comfort in its embossed cover. The whistling grew sharper and louder, they were close enough now to identify as sirens.

            “Their looking for you.” Mari said dryly, Belle just inclined her head.

            “They should be; you died in the accident Mari. Your not really here.” She whispered, almost trying to deny the simple fact that her best friend was dead.

            “Don’t give up hope Belle.” She replied, and Belle could almost hear the trademark smile in Mari’s voice. Her full red lips would be curved upwards in the corners while she tried not to laugh, Mari was always laughing, infecting those around her with an ambient happiness. And with that her presence was gone, and Belle was alone with the wind again. Until someone shouted, breaking her out of her reverence.

            “Hey Lady lookout!” the young male voice called out moments before its owner barreled into her. The force and suddenness of it caused her to loose her grip on the little leather-bound notebook with its stamped lily on the cover.

            “Sorry!” The boy called to her, already far enough away that his voice carried a dreamlike fogginess. As his voice faded the sirens became blaringly loud, and she propped herself on her knees desperately casting around for the notebook. ‘Where is it?’ she thought desperately feeling the despair and fear welling up in her chest threatening to swamp her.

            “Belle?” called another male voice, this one familiar identifiable by the deep bass tones and heavy accompanying footfalls. It was Mari’s brother Nathan.

            “Nate do you see…” she began but paused. It was only a notebook after all, pieces of cardboard wrapped in leather and sewn together with sheets of paper sandwiched between. Such a silly thing to cling too, like trying to cup water in her hands, it was the idea she had to cling to.

            “Belle?” Nate asked his voice holding a sweet note of confusion and worry. She could just picture his expression, thick dark brown eyebrows would be tugged over his lighter brown eyes in a frown. His lips, much like his sisters they both had so mush expression there, would be turned down at the corners.

            “Never mind.” She said giving his general direction a smile, “Lets get beck to the hospital before the doctors begin to worry.” She continued startling a laugh out of him, the familiar sound triggering another flashing image, one of his smile, with one of her own they stood.

            ‘Maybe I can do this, for you Mari.’ She thought, and gave a small wave behind her, as if to ward off her over-protective friend even in death.

            “I’m glad you’re back Belle” Nate said, the relief evidence enough of his honesty.

            “Me too.”

© 2008 Dreaming

Author's Note

Review! =) Just um please be nice.

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Added on November 14, 2008



Charlton, MA, MA

...I am so bad at these about me boxes, for someone who like to avidly write you would think a little blurb about myself would be the literary walk in the park, though depending on your park that coul.. more..