Short Story: Part 1.

Finely was a joyful boy, especially when he was younger, he’d find himself running through the woods behind his house for hours on end playing the role of whatever game he had made up that day. Even if no one wanted to play with him it was alright his imagination was more than enough to keep him entertained. Until he met Delilah, he found here one day all by her lonesome just picking flowers and quietly humming a little song to herself, not one he could recognize immediately but it sounded so familiar. He went up to her and tried to introduce himself, the best way a ten-year-old boy knew how. They quickly became friends; Delilah didn’t talk much but that wasn’t a problem for Finely he could talk in circles and Delilah was always willing to listen. When Delilah would speak her voice would demand attention, it wasn’t exactly loud or commanding but he found it so entrancing, she spoke like a song, and he couldn’t help but listen. 

As they got older, he began seeing her less and less, until one day when he was fourteen, he went out to find her, but she was nowhere to be found, he yelled her name till his voice was hoarse, but he got no answer. He repeated this cycle for almost 4 months before he gave up, he couldn’t tell his parents about because they didn’t know about Delilah in fact no one did, it was one of their “friendship rules”, that he couldn’t tell anyone about her, they were eleven at the time and sure he was curious about why but he didn’t harp on it too much, as time passed he did get more curious about Delilah, where she lived, where her parents were, what school did she go to? For a while after her disappearance, he blamed himself, maybe he scared her, made her uncomfortable, maybe he was the reason she ran away. 

It took him a while, but time moves on, soon he started high school, and then college and even though he’d never forget about her she took up less and less space in mind. He had decided to honor that friendship and keep her a secret long after she disappeared, something he often felt bad for in case something happened, and she needed help. But he zipped his lips shut and let her become a memory. 

It wasn’t until he was nearly 30, that she decided to reappear in his life, in a very anticlimactic way at that, he just ran into her at the local bar in his town. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, so at first, he wasn’t sure it was actually there, but he couldn’t ignore the familiarity that filled the air around him once he saw her, he had to be sure. “Delilah?”, he said quite loudly, when she turned her head to look in his direction her eyes filled with emotion, ones that Finley couldn’t quite decipher. A smile then lit up her face as she ran toward him and engulfed him in a hug, “Oh my goodness, Fin!”, she exclaimed. Finley could feel himself getting emotional, as he gripped her tight, he felt like a kid again, he wasn’t aware that he missed her embrace this much. It was then that he realized he had never made another friend like that, he guessed that after being abandoned the way he had he put up his guard and hadn’t allowed himself to get close with anyone since. 

Her embrace felt healing, he had so many questions for her but he didn’t want to potentially care her off or seem nosey, so he settled for one, “How have you been?”, he asked. She hesitated for a moment, “Good, What about you?”. He gave her an update which admittedly wasn’t much, single, accountant, and no children.  For her it was pretty much the same except she works as a librarian. They spent a while catching up about life since they “drifted apart”, as she phrased it which upset Finley, but he bit his tongue. They decided to call it a night as it became late and figured they could meet for coffee to try and rekindle their friendship. 

As Finley got ready for bed that night, Delilah was all he could think about questions and theories, swarming around in his head it was impossible to sleep. How could he be her friend again?


Author: Sone’t Robinson

My name is Sone't Robinson and writing for me is an outlet. It's a way to be heard when I feel like my words have fallen on deaf ears. I write out of necessity as well as passion. I've used my pen to write my peace and paper has been the greatest listener I've ever met. I'd encourage even those who don't have a passion for writing or literature to do the same.

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