The Birthday Solo

I posted this a while back before. But I don't know... just thought I'd post it now to start sharing writings again- get back on track.

The Birthday Solo
Intro:
She stared into the ocean, above the sharks in the mysterious depth. The waves curled silently in remorse as her spirit flew up. She rose over the ocean, over the place she once called home... As she arrived the man in a white suit said, in a deep tone, "Finally."





This girl did not believe this was her home. It was not her property, not her territory. Everyday she felt like a random soul among the crowd. She was nobody...no matter what the words they forced into her head. The girl's name just happens to be No One.

Silently No One walked along the beach back to her hotel room. The sand was cold- for it was night. She liked the feeling of the "clay like" solute rubbing against her bare feet each step. Yet people stared and laughed as she walked alone. In her mouth was a birthday horn. The birthday with nobody, not even a "friend".

She blew on the horn, a sad tune of the "Happy Birthday" song. The depression was shown, she felt worthless. Her mind was dumb, her body numb. Thinking to herself she wondered what was left. Not even her ex called, not even her mother. "What am I here for?" spiraled through her mind, not just now, but everyday.

She finally reached her hotel, glancing once more at the foggy gray sky. Then she slowly dragged her feet into the hotel. Room 1104 was her stop. Where she would be alone. She felt people in the lobby staring; felt their eyes burning her back- and it hurt, yes, it hurt her. A tear dropped down her face, only one. She had no more tears, no strength to cry at all.

Climbing the stairs not once did No One breathe heavy, flight after flight she only grinned. The sad birthday tune was played once more. Then the grin grew larger, her eyes widened in conspiracy. She knew there was nothing left. She took her time up the 11 stories, still grinning.
Exiting the stairs into the hallway, she shuffled to her room. The grin faded as she opened the door seeing emptiness. Except, unlike before she left, there was a rose on her bed. The rose was dry and dead. It was from her ex, the time when she was happy, the one time when she was herself.

Slowly she made her way to the bed. She wiped her eyes feeling as if she cried, although she knew she could not. She picked the rose up carefully making sure it did not crumble, like her heart. There she sat staring at the rose. She remembered how she got this beauty. Her last birthday, when her ex Richard had given the incredible rose. He said it was as beautiful as her. Then she threw the rose across the room and watched as it crumbled.

Her body ached, but she liked the pain. She laid down spreading her body across the bed. She laughed and laughed and laughed. Her body twitched and that grin appeared across her face. The face she deemed hideous, the face of shame. She laughed until she was out of breath and tired. Then she sat herself up, staring at the phone seeing she had not missed one message.

No One made her way across the room, her legs quivering; she opened the sliding doors to her balcony. There she was in the breeze from the direction of the ocean, her hair flew magnificently all over the place. She laughed, a quiet laugh, and then she screamed for all to hear. She saw her birthday wine and cake on her metal table outside. Slowly she made her way over to it all. She took the bottle of wine and smashed it at the greatly sculpted cake. With all her force she kept smashing it and smashing it, until the bottle eventually broke.

Taking the bottle in her hands- she cried; she cried because she was alone. How could she be someone if nobody even cared? How would she be someone if she was unnoticed and unappreciated? She wanted to be someone; she wanted to go out as someone. But then, she thought, “What if this was only a dream?” Forgetting the broken glass was in her hand she tightened her fists, letting out an eerie moan. A cut grew on her hand; it grew and grew as blood came out. She sadly realized this was not a dream, it was reality. Everything happening was her real life. In disgrace, she laid the bottle down, then she took her hand pressing it against the white exterior wall. The hand-print was not No One's, it was now Some Ones. She admired her artwork and then wrote a phrase on the wall, a phrase her mouth could not form.

The grin came back as she walked over to the ledge; the conspiracy was too overwhelming even for her! She looked down right at the ocean, the place where creatures lurked beneath. She felt the ledge; the white paint was cold and glossy. The ledge was at least a foot wide; without a thought, No One pushed her way up. She felt her life about to disappear. She knew what she was about to do. One last time her life memories passed through her mind, especially Richard, yes especially him. She thought about the people who laughed at her, the people that watched her standing alone. She did not want to see any of their faces anymore, not even Richard's. "If he was here," she thought, "Everything would have been okay." Looking at her hand it was bloody red, like the rose. She studied her blood while keeping steady, she knew she was already dead; there was no doubt within her mind. Without hesitation, she lifted one leg and jumped to her death...

She died there on her birthday, yet she was dead each day. Everyday she was slowly dying inside and out. Nobody was there for her, it was bound to happen sometime, right?



At that moment her bedroom door opened. In a faint voice someone called her name, it was not only but Richard. He saw the rose- picked what was left of it up and started bawling. He knew there was more to find. Noticing the curtains for the sliding door blowing, she had to be out there he told himself. So he walked faster than ever before out to the balcony. He gagged when he saw the wall; he gagged when he saw the smashed cake. He knew he should have come earlier.

Richard noticed a bloody hand-print on the ledge, and sauntered over. He held his stomach and put one hand on her hand-print. Looking down he saw her lonely mangled and dead body. He turned around and fell to his knees facing the wall. His mind was spiraling as he read her artwork aloud. "I am Some One," he shook his head, "NO! You were Some One, someone to me," he stopped and took a deep breath. "But now, beautiful, you are No One.”