Freddy paused at the gate, touching his forehead out of habit. He felt sweat cover the palm of his hand and was content at the touch of it. It was a relatively cool summer evening and he'd finished a ten mile run, feeling the motivated feeling he longed for at the end of the afternoon.
After drinking water, having a shower and eating dinner, Freddy sat down to read and wait.
He wasn't sure how other eighteen year olds spent their evenings, and although he wished the circumstances were different, he didn't envy the others. He enjoyed his own company. He liked to hear his thoughts; he enjoyed thinking. Sure, he had friends - well, acquaintances - at college, but he never felt comfortable when he occasionally decided to accept an invitation; he always found a way to end up by himself. The way he liked it. Tucked away, hidden in a corner, watching the night's sky through the window or sat at the table, mechanically shuffling cards. Though, at home, his loneliness wasn't normally absolute. With the company of books, air and the ability to hear his surroundings, Freddy knew he had a lot to be grateful for.
It was the silence that got to him.
Tonight, he ignored it, forcing himself to concentrate on the pages before him.
Hours passed before Freddy set aside the book and cringed at the memory of earlier that day. Absorbed by the thoughts his heart forced him to consider, Freddy wasn't taking any notice when he was placing a book about tectonic plates back, turned and walked straight into Amanda from his Geography class. He apologised and she smiled politely and carried on with her day.
Like he wasn't even there.
As the lunch break had carried on, he felt disturbed at the bother he felt. Most of him knew that he enjoyed the freedom of solace, but something was nagging him; his brain was trying to tell him something. What, he couldn't work out.
In fear of understanding, Freddy picked the book back up and drowned himself in the ink on the pages.
It wasn't long before the door opened and Freddy put down his book for the night, feeling numb and strangled by the silence.
One of my New Year's Resolutions is to post a creative writing piece (at least) once a month. *Smugly, ticks off an imaginary list before remembering there are eleven more months. Quietly, sets imaginary pen down and gets excited at the thought of at least eleven more stories created by my mind.*
Imagination & Motivation,
The Girl in the Moonlight.