Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(1 votes)

RatingRated by

You must login to vote

Nothing is forever. When something is finished, it is a time to be blissful and enjoy new privileges as a result of an accomplishment. But when nothing is of importance, blissful times can’t exist. Life is nil without no fulfillment and therefore, undesirable. If one is eternally waiting for something to happen, life will not hesitate to pass by without notice. Such is the case with Fiona.

The empty narrow steps leading to some building, in some town, were almost imaginary to Fiona. Whenever she sat on these steps she thought. The steps forced her to be only with her own mind and tonight, Fiona was alone with herself. She had wandered out of her father’s house because of an argument they had and found herself at these steps. The weather was cold, and it was slowly getting colder, and it was alm. Except for a pathetic little light situated on top of this “nothing” building, the surroundings accepted Fiona as one of them almost sadistically. Fiona with black hair and black eyes all on her drowning face, sat and thought. As she thought she felt the air get colder and colder; she remembered, recalled, evoked, and recollected.

Of course Fiona remembered her past life, if she really thought about it. If you met her, she would tell you that she had a great life, but she wouldn’t give you any details. She might even smile, if you took the time to talk to her for a while. Not that she would joke around with anybody, that was highly unlikely. It wasn’t that she didn’t like jokes; she just needed the right person to tell them to. Rarely did she meet anybody worth telling them to. Fiona didn’t like silly antics with her friends or giggling on impulse when a boy walked by. Fiona wasn’t very open; even though at first it seemed so, when she would talk to you about her past boyfriends, her religious views, and so on. But there were some things she wouldn’t speak of. She could spill her heart out to you in ten minutes but she refused to talk about a trivial incident at school. People generally classified her as eccentric, and most didn’t want to associate with her. In fact, little people had any memories of Fiona at all.

Fiona reminisced as she sat huddled in a blanket on the steps, it was starting to get very cold and Fiona shivered as past memories came alive in her head.

In grammar school, Fiona always wanted to go somewhere after school. When she was a child, she had a certain place she longed to go. Now, she didn’t remember where she wanted to go. She didn’t even know the reason why she always nagged her parents to go. As she liked to say it, “I always go home. And I always do the same stuff, every day. I want to go out.” Her father didn’t know where she wanted to go, and when he asked, she would repeat, “out.” He would refuse to let her go and told her she had to come straight home, unless she would tell where this place was. Fiona never told her father where it was nor did she ever tell him why she wanted to go. But finally, her father relented, in middle school, to let her go anywhere she wanted after school, as long as she was back at five. Fiona continued to return home, on time, and without the slightest hint of yearning to do otherwise. She had lost interest.

On the stairs, everything was still, no movement or sound could be heard for blocks. Every human being was inside now, except for Fiona. She sat shaking and on the stairs to the unknown building and tried to think. Her memory was hardly lucid, she had many gaps conveniently made where she wanted them. She was not one to live in the past, and barely lived in the present. But she remembered one incident particularly well, suspiciously better than any other.

It was depressing to see Fiona’s family together in one house, in the same room, and even more, on the same couch. Her family wasn’t meant to be together, partly because it wasn’t a family in the first place. To Fiona, it was a group of organisms who had no choice but to live on the same plot of land. They were never in the same room at the same time, never mind having a conversation with all three people at once. This Saturday night however, all the members of Fiona’s family were on the couch.

The couch was forest green, huge and a product of somebody’s extreme lack of taste in furniture. Because of its ridiculous capacity, it was big enough to accommodate about 6 obese people plus accessories and therefore, looked like a sick joke when the three toothpick members of Fiona’s family sat on it. Placed in the middle of the room the family looked like they were getting ready to be picked up by Martians.

“Fio-honey, I am worried.” Fiona’s father shifted on the couch, leaning forward so to look at Fiona, who was sitting at the right side of the couch, completely hid from her father’s view by her mother’s body.

“By what?” Fiona inquired.

“W-Well, I don’t seem to see any…” he paused. “Any sort of happiness. Y-You…are you sad? Do you want something?”


“T-There was a time…you wanted a boyfriend. And I said no, middle school is too early for things like that.” He said. “But times changed, don’t you see? It’s been years since that happened. A-And now what?”

“Nothing, dad. It’s over. I don’t care. Nothing lasts forever and that was one of those things. A phase.” Fiona explained, leaning forward to see over her mother.

“Just nothing.” Fiona’s father echoed.

“Yeah. I’m done with that. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We need to talk, to discuss. I-I can’t stand this, you are constantly awaiting something, as if somebody was going to come over to you and hit over the head to make you realize something.” He raised his voice slightly. “You’re never happy. Ever. It’s like a depression is looming over you every day for the past seventeen years. You wait and wait and what? Nothing. Because you never do what you’ve waited for or enjoy the moment. It’s pointless, a-and you have to stop.”

Fiona got up from the couch and walked out of the room, out of the house, and sat on her front porch. She felt swallowing herself up and spitting herself out to be a new person. She wanted to scream, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. But she didn’t. She had an epiphany but she didn’t know what to do with it. Her father had revealed his thoughts to her, and she wanted to do as he said. She was shocked that her father would even notice anything, she was sure that they lived in two different worlds. Nevertheless, Fiona didn’t stop what she had been doing her whole life. Fiona went through high school and expected to be happy to finally finish it, but she wasn’t. Colleges accepted her and she went, but she never finished. Jobs accepted her but she never kept them. Fiona told herself after her father’s revelation to change but she didn’t. She kept waiting for the right moment.

As she sat on the steps, with purple lips and crimson cheeks, and recalled her life, she cried. In truth, she had no memories; just a ruined life with missed opportunity. Fiona was a wasted child at the age of twenty-three, with no true joy in her life. She sat on the steps, her existence murdered. Once in a while, a silhouette would appear on the opposite wall but nobody would ask her if anything was wrong. Nobody knew her. Nobody wanted to know her. She was a loser and she realized it; she lived with her father, she never finished college, she never had a job for more than a week, and she never had a relationship with her parents or anybody else. She didn’t think her life was of any value at all. She got up from her perch at the steps and walked across the street to the bridge, and stood looking down at the pitiless sight below. She stood looking and waited to do something that would end her story.


The following comments are for "Waiting"
by inyoureyes889

please copmment
please critique this...i would really like to know what you think

( Posted by: inyoureyes889 [Member] On: November 24, 2003 )

well the point is that she is just waiting for nothing and that's why there is no plot and that's why it's not an exciting story...its supposed to be depressing
not everything has to be uptight and exciting
I've written short stories with a plot and so on but I wanted to do something different

( Posted by: inyoureyes889 [Member] On: November 24, 2003 )

but i can understand
But I can see why it may not be interesting...maybe I'm just not getting my point across in the right way

( Posted by: inyoureyes889 [Member] On: November 24, 2003 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.