Blog Challenge Day 3 of 30! Snippets

Today I’ve decided to post some of my work. It’s from a book called, “Whisper” that I’ve been working on back and forth, among other things. Its a YA fiction about a girl, Ellie Derr,  who finds the journal of her crush, Louis Kissinger who had commit suicide. The journal explains his reason for committing suicide. As she get deeper into his writing she begins the lefft subtle messages in his writing that hints that he might have faked his death in order to be forgotten so he can run away and start a new life. Everyone but Ellie believes he’s dead. As the story progresses she begins to wonder if she’s gone crazy and fell in love with a ghost while part of her believes the boy she loves is still alive.

Feedback is welcomed. Enjoy!

“Lastly. If you’re reading this, chances are I’m missing. Most likely dead.”

Louis Wesley Kissinger was pronounced dead, June 3rd, 2035. But he feels alive to me. When a person dies, you feel it. Something inside of you sounds off and you know. That person is no longer alive. You get that feeling all the time at funerals. But with Louis, it was like he had just left. Like he went on some far away trip.

I know how insane it sounds. I realize that the situation is very serious. Louis committed suicide. Autopsies confirmed it. But the fact that a body was never found leaves room for my imagination to wonder. Is Louis actually dead?

And maybe I’m obsessed. Maybe I’ve lost my mind and have gotten attached to a ghost. A ghost whose kiss lingers on my lips. His presence haunts my heart. In both good and bad ways.

Louis was the first boy to make me feel seen. Not my body, but me. He really did treat me like a lady. Louis made me a strong believer in those fairytales. Cheesy romance films and even books, which he got me in to. He opened my eyes and heart to something the world had forgotten. Romance.

Then he left me. He opened my eyes to this world known by few and disappeared. Who else will understand me the way he does? Who else will carry me over puddles and play fight with me? Make me laugh until my stomach hurts? Who? I hold the book close to my chest and try my best not to cry.

Was I not worth living for? He says no one knows who he really is. No one understood. He’s a liar! I know. I do. I’ve felt it. I’ve seen and heard it. I know the part of him Carol didn’t see.

I hold the book tighter and closer to my chest. I whisper his name and shed a tear. In two weeks school will be over. School will be over and I will graduate like I was supposed to last year. He’d be really proud. He knew I was smart even when I didn’t.

I guess the worst part about this, is knowing how it feels to truly be seen and wanted. Now that he’s gone, it feels like I will never have that again. I feel betrayed and abandoned. He never said anything about suicide to me.

Maybe if I had known. No. I know if I had known, I would have stopped him. No matter what. But that’s not possible. Louis is dead. I read the last sentence for the hundredth time.

“Lastly. If you’re reading this, chances are I’m missing. Most likely dead.”

As I sulk at the dinner table, I hear the front door open. Lily walks in laughing. My dad is behind her with a box.

He says, “Are you excited?”

“Yup! This is my dream,” she says. “Thanks for helping me dad. I hope it’s as good as yours someday.”

I partly know what’s in the box. But I watch anyway. Lily and dad walk towards me. They plan to use the table. I look away and wipe my eyes.

Lily says, “Hey it looks like they have dinner ready, dad.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.” He calls mom into the room but she’s already here. She tells my sister to open the box. And so she sets the box on the table and begins opening it like a Christmas present.

It’s just a typical USPS box. Brown, cardboard and it’s about the size of a pencil box. But this is one of those, big things come in small packages, sort of things. She takes out paper and cushioning out. Slowly she takes a book out. Everyone gasps and stares. Mother is on the edge of tears.

Here’s a little recap. My father is kind of this famous author. Since he was a senior in high school, he’s been writing and publishing books. He’s a romance writer. Mom says his debut novel, Hero’s Tale, is what made her fall for him. A couple of years after he graduated, he sold a best seller, Blue Owl. Writing is his passion.

My sister has always been a pretty good storyteller. When we were toddlers she always had a new one. I’m sure dad loves that. For the past two years she’s been working on a book. Father helped her with the publishing but she did everything else on her own, including cover art.

Today is the first time she sees her masterpiece. My sister is now a published author. I watch her stare at the book. It’s small with a yellow and white cover.

Mercury’s Song is the name on the front. Mercury’s Song By: L.O Derr. Why does every author do the two initials and last name thing? It’s like some unwritten rule.

“It looks so professional!” Lily says. “It looks like an actual book. I can see it being on shelves.”

“It is an actual book,” Dad says. He pats her on the back and looks at me. He says, “Ellie! Hey!” He smiles big and rushes to me. His arms wrap around me and he gives me a warm hug. I can’t help but smile and hug him back.

Despite my current mood, he makes me laugh. My tears dry up as he pats me on the head softly. I swat it away playfully.

“Don’t,” I laugh. “You’ll get it all messy!” He sits beside me. Even though my tears are gone, he can probably tell something is bothering me. Louis’s memoir is still in my arms. He knows I don’t like to read. Instead of asking about the book, he grabs my homework paper.

“Wow. Pre-calculus huh? I hated that subject. I was awful.”

I laugh again. “Mom told me. It’s actually not that hard once you memorize your formulas and equations.”

He laughs a bit and hugs me. He’s being affectionate, letting me know he’s there. Dad knows how Louis’s suicide has affected me. He asks if I want to talk about it. I say no.

I look at the book and stare at its blank cover. For a while, I wonder if he did it on purpose. Blank like a canvas. Waiting for the next person to paint their own picture of him because of his silence. Refusing to see the already painted picture. Failing to see Louis Wesley Kissinger.

“Nobody really knew him,” I say softly. “Sometimes I wonder why he did it. The obvious answer is loneliness. He felt alone.”

My mom is beside me now. They both get close to me to comfort me. Dry the tears I’ve failed to hold. For the fifth time this week. I hear cardboard rubbing on itself. My eyes catch Lily closing the USPS box as she walks away from the table. I’ve ruined her moment. I cry even harder.

Part of me wants to let go. He’s been gone so long. His hold on me only causes me to stress everyone around me out. My sister didn’t get to enjoy her masterpiece. Her sister, Lily is having another episode. I want to stop but I can’t. I love him. I really do.

Mom and Dad have been trying to calm me down. I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m spacing out again, wondering why I hadn’t seen the signs. How did I let him slip through my arms. I literally had them wrapped around him. He was seen. I knew him. And I let him die.

“Ellie don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” my dad says. I had spoken without realizing it.

“But it is!” I cry. “I was the very last person to hold him! I never saw him again after prom. I could have done something.”

“No,” my mother says. “He decided to take his own life. It’s unfortunate and very sad. But you can’t blame yourself for his actions!” I snap when she says that.

“He must have been so scared and lonely when he did it! Do you people ever think about how hard it was? Or how incredibly helpless he felt? To feel so helpless that he felt the only way out was death? Do you ever think about that? No! You only think about the fact that he did it. Not the reasons why or his pain.”

“Ellie it’s not like that,” Father pleads. “His death hurt all of us. Everyone wants to know why.”

They try to calm me down, but my emotions have devoured me. I push away and storm off. How dare they blame him. Louis wasn’t some basket case. Not some introvert. He was a person damn it! A really good one.

I race up stairs as fast as I can. My room is the last door on the left of the hall. Fifth door down. I go inside, shut the door and sit on my bed. It’s just me and the book now. I want to put it down but I can’t. I need to read this. It’s time. I open the book and start from the beginning.

“If you’re reading this, you’re one of the following: a family member, a friend, an ex, or someone who knew me. Not too many people will get a hold of this book.”

I did. I knew him. Louis Wesley Kissinger went missing. Exactly one year from today, May 10th, 2035. It was a little over a week after senior prom. This time of the year makes me think about him the most. I know Louis like no one else does.

“If you’re reading this then it also means that I actually went through with it. I decided on this when I was working one day with Carol. She was rude as usual. Normally it wouldn’t have gotten to me. But that day was different. Part of me broke while the other refused to crack. But I’ll talk about that later.”

My fingers are shaking. I can feel my eyes starting to water and I want to stop reading. I can’t believe he actually did this. I want to close the book and shove it away. I don’t even like reading. Especially not sad things. But my hands hold the book firmly as my eyes stare at the last sentence of the page.

“Lastly. If you’re reading this, chances are I’m missing. Most likely dead.”

A single tear falls onto the word dead and I forget to breathe. I gasp for air and slightly choke. It hurts. But I hold the book even tighter. It’s too late to stop. I have to read it now. I have to find out why. Why did he do this? What was I to him? Why hadn’t he told me? All the answers lie in these pages. I have to read this. I turn the page. I begin to read the story from a ghost, Louis Wesley Kissinger.

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