Stone Statues
Standalone.
She stood outside of the hospital holding a single plain white candle, sheltering it with her free hand so the rain would not put it out.
*****
Candace had imagined this day, dreamt of this day, though perhaps not in the exact same context. One foot remained rooted to the pavement and the other remained rooted to the road. Her breathing quickened almost immediately and her pulse began to race.
The glass double doors hadn't even been opened yet but through the transparent material she could see him. He looked just as Candace had imagined (and hoped) he would; not very tall but taller than her, dark-haired and tanned with youthful, but not childish, and soft features and surrounded by an almost-invisible glowing aura. She felt that it was safe to assume that the aura she saw surrounding him was a side-effect of the mass of amounts of adrenaline coursing through her body.
Starbucks' glass double doors were opening slowly and Candace held her breath, knowing that she looked like an idiot, standing by the side of a busy road with a look of awe and eager anticipation spread across her features. The doors stopped moving and he lightly rested against them with his back facing her as two teenagers (who were undoubtedly fans) engaged him in conversation.
Less than a minute later the doors were moving again and he was walking towards her once more. She took a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly.
Oh my God. Pete Wentz, Pete Wentz, Pete Wentz -
And it all happened too fast for Candace to even stop her current train of thought.
With blatant disregard for the speed limit, a red and black car sped down the street. Candace started forwards, arms outstretched and a yell forming in her throat. Several passers-by looked up at her with mild curiosity and then, with alarm and the beginnings of fear, at the scene folding out before them.
Candace tripped and fell to the tarmac, warm with the summer's heat. She heard the crash, saw the glass crack and shatter, watched as the body rolled over the bonnet, the hood and the trunk with and eerie grace and stood up to see a pool of deep red, almost black, liquid forming around the body.
Whilst others launched into action, crowding the man on the ground, and some proceeded to call an ambulance, Candace stood there, frozen.
*****
She was soaked through and colder than she could ever remember being in her lifetime but she had no intention of moving. Candace had been the first in the courtyard, sheltering a plain white candle with one hand to keep it alight. Hours had passed and now there were a hundred or so others, all perfectly still like stone statues.
*****
Candace had imagined this day, dreamt of this day, though perhaps not in the exact same context. One foot remained rooted to the pavement and the other remained rooted to the road. Her breathing quickened almost immediately and her pulse began to race.
The glass double doors hadn't even been opened yet but through the transparent material she could see him. He looked just as Candace had imagined (and hoped) he would; not very tall but taller than her, dark-haired and tanned with youthful, but not childish, and soft features and surrounded by an almost-invisible glowing aura. She felt that it was safe to assume that the aura she saw surrounding him was a side-effect of the mass of amounts of adrenaline coursing through her body.
Starbucks' glass double doors were opening slowly and Candace held her breath, knowing that she looked like an idiot, standing by the side of a busy road with a look of awe and eager anticipation spread across her features. The doors stopped moving and he lightly rested against them with his back facing her as two teenagers (who were undoubtedly fans) engaged him in conversation.
Less than a minute later the doors were moving again and he was walking towards her once more. She took a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly.
Oh my God. Pete Wentz, Pete Wentz, Pete Wentz -
And it all happened too fast for Candace to even stop her current train of thought.
With blatant disregard for the speed limit, a red and black car sped down the street. Candace started forwards, arms outstretched and a yell forming in her throat. Several passers-by looked up at her with mild curiosity and then, with alarm and the beginnings of fear, at the scene folding out before them.
Candace tripped and fell to the tarmac, warm with the summer's heat. She heard the crash, saw the glass crack and shatter, watched as the body rolled over the bonnet, the hood and the trunk with and eerie grace and stood up to see a pool of deep red, almost black, liquid forming around the body.
Whilst others launched into action, crowding the man on the ground, and some proceeded to call an ambulance, Candace stood there, frozen.
*****
She was soaked through and colder than she could ever remember being in her lifetime but she had no intention of moving. Candace had been the first in the courtyard, sheltering a plain white candle with one hand to keep it alight. Hours had passed and now there were a hundred or so others, all perfectly still like stone statues.
♠ ♠ ♠
"... all perfectly still like stone statues."