Author S. K. Nicholas

x and i: a novel

a journal for damned lovers vol 1-3

The Signal

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These buildings contain the shadows of the man I once was, as do so many deserted streets. The trees are a witness to my transformation. They speak to me of old house parties and awkward liaisons in darkened rooms while drunk and on the verge of puking. It’s strange now to think of such exploits. Even stranger to think of where those moments now reside amidst the ruins of the future. So many pieces of a life kept hidden from view, shared for so long with those who had no interest in the meaning of their beauty. I can still taste the cold October air. I remember how it picked away at me as I advanced upon the cemetery with her hand in mine. All those gravestones; those markers of lives been and gone without so much as a whimper. My own daughter added to them, and as the years have passed, I’m not quite sure what to make of it. My heart belongs to animals, and to all those that know what it means to be alone. To be on the outside looking in. There’s no shame of being in such a place, but it hurts, and for every forced smile, it cuts a little bit deeper. It doesn’t make me sad to know this is the path I was destined to walk, but when I see the suffering around me, it’s difficult not to break down and cry. The world has no time for tenderness. It knows only indifference and greed. Drunk on Vodka and stumbling through the abandoned bus station, the echoes of yesterday mock me for being alive. They remain safely in the past, and yet my troubled soul languishes neither here nor there. The image of her stood before the burned down pub. Laughing to the umber sky, she pulled up her top and blinded me with a simple truth. Those teeth of hers shining in the absence of streetlamps. The way her dress rippled in the breeze. Snaking our way into the centre of town, a part of us never returned. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, we’re in each other’s arms, forever unaware of the pain that awaited us the morning after. Drenched in sudden rainfall, we jumped in a taxi and kissed. We were young, but not anymore. I was once a lover, now changing into something outside of my understanding.

16 responses to “The Signal”

  1. This is an incredibly powerful write. Is it fiction?

    1. Thank you very kindly. It’s all bits and pieces from my life with a little bit of artistic licence. Most of the stuff I write about comes from my life. That way I always feel emotionally attached to it x

      1. You lost a child?

      2. I am so so sorry. I feel bad for asking now. This is so tragic. Hugs.

      3. There’s no need to feel bad. Thank you for your hugs x

      4. Oh, I do. I just asked the most sensitive of questions about one of the most painful things a human being will ever endure. Thoughtless of me. I apologise.

      5. It’s okay. I’ve written about her before, so it’s not like something I don’t want bringing up. You had every right to ask x

      6. Have more hugs and kisses. Lots of them. xxx

  2. Your last lines read from my own soul it seems. And I’m so sorry for your loss. I have 3 children and being a parent is something sometimes I think I wasn’t ever meant to be. I can’t understand your experience, but I do send out my heart to your suffering. I’m mangling my thoughts, my apologies. Lovely post, N. 🍃🌺

    1. Thank you for caring my friend. Your words are very important to me, and I shall keep them close. I hope you and your children are doing well today. Much love x

  3. “We were young, but not anymore.” Indeed. No one remains young. Although many manage to remain ignorant.

    1. I think I’d like to remain ignorant. It will help me to remain creative, and not want to settle for less.

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