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STORY #16 which was born from the exercise in the Creative Writing Club

The original prompt: finish the sentence using a simile "His promises were like..."

He always was a funny, kind of naturally gifted, guy whenever it came to storytelling, able to pull off a story in a way that drew the attention of every single person in a room. As natural as his verbal talent was, on the paper he turned out to be a godsend. The writing was what he was born for. At some point, books were pumping out like bags tossed on the belt conveyor, which was a funny twist of fate since that was exactly how they met. Mistakenly, she picked up his bag only to discover later that the bag itself was the only thing that was similar to her own luggage. She called it divine intervention. He called it kismet.

He seemed to be pretty content at home, only rarely mentioning how LA lights beckoned him. They always had. So it hadn’t come as a surprise when one day they headed to where the lights shone brighter as ever. He said it was to pursue his American dream. She said it was to chase the dollar and fame. Producers called him a real deal. Publishing houses labeled him a writer with a capital W. In a matter of months, he became everyone’s most wanted. Fiction turned into scripts, scripts turned into endless nights on screen sets, take after take, beds in nameless trailers, “shots” heard at any time of day and night. She had yet to realize that LA lights would never shine quite as bright as in the movies*.

He promised they could be happy there. All she ever wanted was to be happy. All she ever got was misery. He promised it’d be a step forward. He promised it’d be a chance to look into new perspectives and open themselves up to new opportunities.  He kissed her. And the kiss was a promise too. His promises always looked quite solid. Painfully so. Just until they weren’t. Like fall leaves with their reddish thin veins running across the yellow canvas, they laid on the carpet of grass, innocent and beautiful, only to turn later into the dust crunching under his merciless feet. He didn’t even bother as much as to look down.

Nothing panned out as he promised.

She kept waiting. Waiting to grow accustomed to that new bohemian lifestyle, waiting for him to deliver his promises. Just waiting. They were two worlds in collision but when the smoke cleared, he wasn’t there. What was there left for her…? Only his empty promises.

*“LA lights never shine quite as bright as in the movies” is a quote from the song “Catalyst” by Anna Nalick

Photo credit: Alex Motoc (Unsplash)