Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Sunsets.
The household sounds of the ice cream man’s standard jingle rings throughout the hollow, airy apartment. Eyes widening, Pete makes a mad dash for the front window, eyes scanning the block for the familiar white van decorated with an array of vivid pictures of ice cream and the likes.
No sight of the ice cream man.
A sigh. A whimper.
“Damn, I missed him.” He mutters to Patrick.
It’s 8:51, meaning that it was probably the slushie man, but no matter who it was, Pete still craved a icy, sweet treat to much on, despite the fact that they had only just eaten dinner.
“We have ice cream in the freezer, Pete,” Patrick sighs, rolling his eyes playfully at the older of the two, though you’d think the ages were reversed in this situation.
“It’s not the same,” He cries overdramatically, stomping his foot against the hardwood floor, producing a rather strident sound.
Yet another sigh. Pete presses his nose to the glass of the living room window, eyes fixated on the misty sunset on just beyond the horizon. A gorgeous mixture of blues and greens and yellows and reds, almost like a rainbow. The black outlines of houses, buildings, trees and the likes contrast against the vivid sunset, creating a truly surreal and stunning portrait in their own front yard.
Pete wanted to jump; he wanted to be part of that sunset. He wanted to be part of something beautiful, even if it didn’t last forever.
Then again, nothing lasts forever, does it?
Nothing gold can stay.
“I want to be part of it,” He mutters bluntly, not too sure himself if what he was about to say made any sense to anybody but his headvoice, “I want to just … fly into the sunset, stay there forever, and never look back.”
Patrick is stunned, eyes in a straight stare at the older boy. He understood exactly what he meant, but there was no way that they could just… become part of a sunset. This is reality, not some Disney movie.
“It doesn’t last forever, true, but … neither do we. I’d rather die like that, y’know?” Pete continues on rather ecstatically.
“But… it’s impossible.” Patrick argues as the middleman – as a person who knew exactly what Pete wanted and longed for just the same, but he also knew that it was impossible to fly, let alone fly into a sunset.
“Never say never,” Pete smiles that patent crooked smile that barely shows off his pearly whites. He slides the transparent glass to the far right and leans his head out the window, wind whipping and smacking against his bare flesh, arms spread, like he’s about to take flight.
If someone walking down the street saw this, they would think he was insane.
And me? I think he’s a genius. A fucking genius.
And before I can say never, he jumps. I squint my eyes, peeking out from behind my eyelid to see him soar; soar over the parkway, over the bustling streets of Chicago, over the people. Wide-eyed people chained to the ground point at him and can’t help but grin – he’s out there living the American dream.
And then I blink. I no longer see my best friend soaring into the sunset, like a scene photocopied from some type of Disney movie, no, I see him face down and bloated in an escalating puddle of blood in the middle of the street, with concerned people crowding around him and wondering what the hell happened.
Suicide? Murder?
No, just a kid flying after his dreams.
The household sounds of an ambulance rings throughout the hollow, airy apartment, just as the sunset just beyond the horizon swiftly fades.
No sight of the ice cream man.
A sigh. A whimper.
“Damn, I missed him.” He mutters to Patrick.
It’s 8:51, meaning that it was probably the slushie man, but no matter who it was, Pete still craved a icy, sweet treat to much on, despite the fact that they had only just eaten dinner.
“We have ice cream in the freezer, Pete,” Patrick sighs, rolling his eyes playfully at the older of the two, though you’d think the ages were reversed in this situation.
“It’s not the same,” He cries overdramatically, stomping his foot against the hardwood floor, producing a rather strident sound.
Yet another sigh. Pete presses his nose to the glass of the living room window, eyes fixated on the misty sunset on just beyond the horizon. A gorgeous mixture of blues and greens and yellows and reds, almost like a rainbow. The black outlines of houses, buildings, trees and the likes contrast against the vivid sunset, creating a truly surreal and stunning portrait in their own front yard.
Pete wanted to jump; he wanted to be part of that sunset. He wanted to be part of something beautiful, even if it didn’t last forever.
Then again, nothing lasts forever, does it?
Nothing gold can stay.
“I want to be part of it,” He mutters bluntly, not too sure himself if what he was about to say made any sense to anybody but his headvoice, “I want to just … fly into the sunset, stay there forever, and never look back.”
Patrick is stunned, eyes in a straight stare at the older boy. He understood exactly what he meant, but there was no way that they could just… become part of a sunset. This is reality, not some Disney movie.
“It doesn’t last forever, true, but … neither do we. I’d rather die like that, y’know?” Pete continues on rather ecstatically.
“But… it’s impossible.” Patrick argues as the middleman – as a person who knew exactly what Pete wanted and longed for just the same, but he also knew that it was impossible to fly, let alone fly into a sunset.
“Never say never,” Pete smiles that patent crooked smile that barely shows off his pearly whites. He slides the transparent glass to the far right and leans his head out the window, wind whipping and smacking against his bare flesh, arms spread, like he’s about to take flight.
If someone walking down the street saw this, they would think he was insane.
And me? I think he’s a genius. A fucking genius.
And before I can say never, he jumps. I squint my eyes, peeking out from behind my eyelid to see him soar; soar over the parkway, over the bustling streets of Chicago, over the people. Wide-eyed people chained to the ground point at him and can’t help but grin – he’s out there living the American dream.
And then I blink. I no longer see my best friend soaring into the sunset, like a scene photocopied from some type of Disney movie, no, I see him face down and bloated in an escalating puddle of blood in the middle of the street, with concerned people crowding around him and wondering what the hell happened.
Suicide? Murder?
No, just a kid flying after his dreams.
The household sounds of an ambulance rings throughout the hollow, airy apartment, just as the sunset just beyond the horizon swiftly fades.