On The Long Road
Hello everyone!
One day quite a few years ago I was listening to the song Comptine d'un autre ete by Yann Tiersen and I had a very vivid scene play out in my head. I wanted to somehow animate it, or write it as a story, but I ended up putting it off until I forgot it.
Then I saw Eli_Whereben_Yubi's new Virtamate video Ballet Recital, which reminded me of the vivid scene that played itself out in my head. With inspiration from that I decided to go ahead and finally write this story.
Thanks to Eli_Whereben_Yubi for creating the VaM video that re-inspired this project and to Superboy for help and editorial input!
Some information:
This story is meant to be accompanied by Comptine d'un autre ete, specifically the version in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2-1u8xvk54. Each paragraph of the story is a “scene,” and is accompanied by a section of the music. The section of music comes from the video linked above and is displayed above each paragraph as such:
(0:10-0:30)
And then he ate an apple.
This story is pure fiction and is based on nothing other than a scene that kept playing itself out in my head when I first heard this piece. Any similarities to real people and real events is purely and amazingly coincidental.
I’ve never written in the present tense before, but I thought that present tense was better suited for the concept of reliving the day’s memories.
Warning: This story is sad.
Let’s begin the story!
On the Long Road By bit.4.bit
(0:02-0:34)
I feel the car accelerate as we merge onto the highway and begin the next phase of the journey to our new home. Looking out the window I see the trees go by, bleeding together into a mostly-solid canvas of blending autumn colors, turned dull by the sun reaching below the horizon. Despite some gaps between trees and leaves the speed makes them appear solid and contiguous, becoming a screen projected onto which were the wonderful and painful memories of the day.
(0:35-0:54)
I see myself in my room, as if I’m a ghostly spectator in my own recent past. On the bed my luggage lies open, packed with clothes and books. Posters lay against the wall, wrapped into cylinders and prevented from opening with rubber bands. Suddenly it is as if I am there again, and through my past self’s eyes I see my arm reach onto my desk and grab my most cherished photo. It’s of him and me, with his arm over my shoulders, bare skin meeting bare skin. I watch my arms carefully place the photo onto the bed, on top of my jacket.
(0:55-1:15)
I turn towards the door when I hear the yelling begin again in the living room. Curses echo through the halls, and unpleasant names are traded. I hear my name mentioned in the screams, spat in a venomous tone by my father and then repeated in defense by my mother. Tears well in my eyes as the room begins to spin. I feel the frantic urge to flee. Overwhelmed by my emotions I grab my coat and pull it around me while running towards the only exit. I hear glass break as my picture frame hits the floor. Unable to hold them in any longer, my tears spill out.
(1:16-1:38)
A gap in the trees breaks the screen and pulls me back into the present. We drift right, exiting one highway just to merge onto another identical strip of pavement, flanked on either side by trees boringly similar to the ones before. As we gain speed the trees begin to blur again, and the same screen of dulled autumn colors begins to form. I desperately want to cling to the present, to avoid reliving the pains of toady. Against my wishes, the memories project again.
(1:38-1:57)
I find myself outside of his mother’s dance studio. I knew he would be here. After all, this is where we first met. This was where we spent our time together and where we frequently practiced side-by-side. Even from outside the door I hear the piano sing songs of despair. As I have done so many times before, I walk in, set down my things, and began dancing to the music he summoned from his fingertips.
(1:58-2:18)
His fingers begin moving faster and faster on the keyboard, producing quick, dissonant cries of pain. Matching his speed I begin spinning, faster and faster as the speed of the keys increases. I see the sweat drip down my forehead and my muscles tire, but I don’t give in. Supporting myself on one leg I keep the other in its place, foot pointing in at knee height, and continue the pirouette. I go until I can’t any longer, and allow myself to slowly drop to the floor.
(2:19-2:38)
Before I know it I am sitting up on the floor, held in his embrace. I look at him, studying the facial features of the boy who is about to be taken from me. I won’t lose him to another boy, or to a disagreement or loss of interest. I will lose him to distance. I study the face I want to remember when we are far apart. As I study his face, he leans towards me. His hand meets my chest. His lips meet mine. A fire erupts in my chest, engulfing my heart.
(2:39-2:58)
His hand moves down my chest, and the internal flames follow. He explores all of my chest, down to my abs. Before he goes further I kiss him again, releasing all of the burning passion building within me. His hand drifts lower, and I thrust into it while our lips remain locked. Someone moans. Our tongues intertwine. I begin to lose my breath, but the fire in me won’t let me stop. Before long, he pulls away.
(2:59-3:19)
We may be barely 13, but we know what love is and how it is consummated. We lock the door, then return to kissing between removing articles of clothing. We undress awkwardly but quickly, and before I know it I am on my back and he is over me. I feel him position himself at my entrance, and slowly, carefully and gently he enters. I take a second to focus on the sensations. There is pain. There is pleasure. There is lust. There is love.
(3:20-3:41)
With each thrust there is a buildup and a release. There is anticipation as he pulls out, then a gratifying pleasure as he pushes in. I look at his face and see that he is locked in the same rhythm. Build then release. Out then in. With each repetition the anticipation and release heighten. With each repetition we get closer to the climax. With each release I love him more. At the final peak we’re in heaven.
(3:42-4:03)
We lay entwined on the wooden floor, basking in the glory of what we’ve accomplished. There is so much more love now, and so much more pain. We kiss and we cry. We cherish every last second. We make promises to travel and see each other. We make promises to wait until we are reunited. We swear this will not be the end. We both know the words are a hollow mask to hide our pain. We pretend anyway.
(4:04-4:23)
We hear the honk of the car horn outside. My mom has found me and it’s time to leave. Silently we get dressed and head outside together. We kiss for the final time, and I somehow find the will to enter the car. My mother says something I can’t parse. My eyes never leave his. My mother gives up on getting an answer from me. Slowly the car starts to drift away.
(4:24-4:34)
As we pull away from him I feel my insides tear apart. I begin to scream, to cry, to swear, to plead. My head spins faster. I hear my mother tell me to calm down. I hear her promise that it would be OK. I know that it can’t be.
(4:35-END)
A gap opens suddenly in the foliage, breaking the projection of my memories. It has only been fours hours since I left the dance studio, but already there has been an irreversible change. The car turns into the unfamiliar driveway. My mother and I have reached our new home.
Epilogue.
The year passed painfully and slowly. I didn’t make any friends. I stopped dancing. Despite our promises, I had not been able to see my love once. Though we did talk through SnapChat, each discussion brought back pangs of pain and loneliness.
But recently things have changed. Today I am packing for the second time in two years. My father quit drinking and quit his church. Against my mother’s will he contacted me, but to my surprise it was to apologize for everything he said. He says he is ready to accept me. When my mother called him to tell him not to speak to me again, he convinced her that he changed. He begged her for a second chance.
I haven’t forgiven my father. I’m not sure I can. But today I find myself on the long road back home, and for the first time I feel joy. I have no doubt that in four hours time I will find my love waiting for me. I have no doubt that when I get home we can go to the studio. He will play, and I will dance.