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Title: The Extra

Image by Emay from Gloucestershire | in writing, fiction, short stories

Things weren’t always like this. Before it happened, I existed; I was counted as a human being, equal to everyone else. When I talked, you listened, when I walked you followed, you were my constant shadow. Memories won’t fade, even if I slowly am. Often I find myself thinking of the time we ran together through the field below the barns. I remember the vibrant speckles of gold dotting the tall grass and above, the delicate pink blossom set free by the old cherry tree, swirling around us in the gentle breeze. We ploughed through, running in pure unrepressed delight, forcing butterflies to flee their sleepy nests deep among the grass. A blur of beige; our puppy tore past, tail wagging violently in excitement. You had to stop, but I raced on, caught up in my own world of happiness, enchanted by life. But then you went and did this. What you did is still tearing our family apart and the rift between us grows larger every day. I’m scared. You’re gone, yet you’re not; you’re all they talk about, all they think about, I’m just an extra in your show. Always in the background, never any lines, but still, despite everything, in awe of the star. As you caught up, the call of the wind whistling through the trees that lined the edge of the field, echoed in our ears. Remember the games we played? Hide and seek. We explored for children’s hours, adult’s minutes, winding through the willows, in and out, round and round, slowly creating an intricate pattern of footsteps. The obnoxious sounds of motors and voices, so familiar now, were no-where to be heard, no litter in our perfect paradise. Now here I am, back in the field below the barns. What was once a picture of intense colour and life has decayed, transforming into a putrefied mass of weeds and sludge. The dazzling gold has faded to a slushy brown, and the pink petals once so light and free, now creating a filthy carpet, oozing with the blood of the life we lost. The trees, previously standing proudly to attention, are barren and lifeless, casting long menacing shadows across the once so vibrant ground. Underneath the only tree showing signs of life, I carefully lay the flowers by your grave. Tears seep from the corners of my eyes, glide silently down my face. I miss you, with all my heart. It’s funny, you’re the cause of this pain, yet you’re the only one who could understand me. Finally I realise how you felt, throughout your short life: the extra, always in the background, never any lines, but still, despite everything, in awe of me, the star.