Monday, May 9, 2011


By: Hunter M.


People get scared when I talk to Gregory. Gregory is my bestfriend and I wish that people would except him for who he is. He's a little shy and I know that's traditionally a turn off for relationships but that's no reason to jump to conclusions about him. He's so smart. He gives me ideas all the time. He asks me to do this or say that because he's too scared to do it himself. He's so witty. Sometimes, I just want to hug him and tell him that everything will be alright in the end. He tells me that he will be taken from me soon and when I ask him by whom, he gets really silent. That's when I start crying and my mother has to hold me till the shudders stop.

Gregory was taken to the hospital on a Monday. He kept screaming and screaming outside my bedroom window that Sunday night until I opened the window and his wails shattered through the house. My bedroom door slammed open, leaving a gaping hole in the sheetrock behind it, and there the two of them were, silhoutted in buttery light from the hall. My parent's faces blanched when they saw Gregory perched on the seal of the window. My parent's didn't know what to do with him, so they took him to the hospital. I asked how they knew to take him there; maybe he just had a bad dream, or his own mommy had hurt him so he ran to me, but my mother and father stayed mute. Both their lips were thin and tight in the car. The radio played my favorite song. Gregory sang along.

Gregory was scared of the hospital. The too brightness of the white everthing paralyzed him. He said nothing the whole time he was there. Each minute I was at his side. When my parents would leave the room for another cup of coffee, Gregory would turn is black, beady eyes on me and giggle quietly. I don't know why he did it but it scared me. When the door would open again returning my parents, Gregory's head would snap back forward and his black stare at the walls would commence again.

My parent's took me home the following Tuesday evening. I didn't cry when they tugged me away from Gregory's grip, but as soon as I was seated in the car, the places on my shoulders where he had grabbed me started to burn. At home, my parents smiled and kissed me. The two of them were practically beaming and they beamed until the sun didn't. When I was tucked away in bed, they came in my bedroom, their flourescent skin sprinkling the floor around them in a citris glow, walked over and kissed my cheek. They shut the door quietly when they left, and the black hole in the walk stared back at me. Dark and small. Like Gregory's eyes.

Sometime during the night, I was woken by an unknown stimulate. My foggy brain didn't care enough to locate the source but I didn't need to; it found me. I felt a tiny hand curl around mine, our fingers interwining like little mating worms. My head rolled to the side, and blending into a pool of shadows and blankets was Gregory. He smiled and poked my eyelids with the tip of his pinky. I fell back asleep.

He was finally gone and they should have been rejoicing. Externally, they were, but deep down they knew Gregory would never leave their child. Not when he turns five and not when he turns thirty. He was gone, though, for the moment. Sleep no longer evaded them. They both sleep like babies that Tuesday night. They awoke at the same time. They silently agreed to check on their son together. Just to make sure, they tell themselves. The door knob to his bedroom is cold, like turning dry ice. Their son lays on his side facing away from the door. They notice the slight movement of his pointy shoulders. After closer inspection, they realize he's stroking the empty air in front of him lovingly, whispering over and over. " I missed you, too, Gregory."


Author's Note: God, I'm a creep. Whatever. This was... interesting to write. I swear, I get inspired by the most random things. Btw, I would like to apologize for the atrocity that is my last post. I would delete it, but I find it mildly humorous.

AND ON A DIFFERENT YET STILL CREEPY NOTE. I made this in my computer class today on Photoshop. lolololol
You're welcome, Garrett Hedlund.

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