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eanthology |
Empty Promise
Christine
Graham
 We
had been driving for over an hour, me having no idea where he was taking me.
It was late but the moon gave off a bright light that lead our way. The ocean
had been on my right side for some time now, like he was using it as his
navigation. We pulled into an empty parking lot and curved around a wide
corner. We came upon a lighthouse poised at the tip of Scituate Harbor. He
opened my door and led me up the staircase to where the light gave off its
glimmer. The crisp wind blew my hair and we both looked out into the black
hole of the harbor. “I
took you here to tell you something, something you’re not going to like. The
Navy is somewhere I think I’ll belong, even though I’ll be without you.” We
always talked about his options, but I never thought this would be one of
them. Suddenly this was no longer a beautiful place to me. I could no longer
imagine our fate, because I wasn’t sure what it was anymore. “You can come
out here when you want to be with me, I’ll be with the ocean. Promise me
you’ll be here when I come back.” I whispered in his ear, “I promise.”
Something I could never be sure of. November 5, 2002 Creative
Writing Micro-Fiction |
