#promptmio

He was scrolling through the pictures on his phone with a cigarette hanging from his fingers. A lot of the snaps were from a while ago. All these wide smiles, huge grins and twinkling eyes - still hopeful, full of life. Asher hoped he hadn’t lost all of that. All of him and Zoey’s adventures in Switzerland brought a fond smile to his lips, especially a shaky video of him and her tipping head first into the snow after trying to tackle a difficult slope. Then there was pranking Isaac, Nina’s yoga, stealing Em’s wash basket, all these great friends and yet he always felt like a burden to them. Here he had fucked it all up again and there was not a chance of catching up unless he worked with no sleep and with a lot of-...

The door of his house suddenly swung open, Asher’s mother stood on the doorstep, glued still in surprise. Asher shuffled to his feet, ‘sorry’ etched into his guilt trodden gaze and tightly pressed together lips. Backpack trailing behind him he eased slowly into his mother’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder. 

Lights, h a h a, sparks, h a, crowds, pressure, h a a h a a a a a a - Asher woke with a start suddenly things were familiar. Warm rugs, family photos. Seeing the time it was he trailed up to his bedroom, nothing had changed, everything was exactly the mess he had left it in. It was a while since he’d been home. Sitting at his desk he ran his fingers over the small list of things he had carved clumsily into the wood with a compass when he was maybe eight years old. 

1 bE SUPER MEGA RICH

2 get a dog/cat/duck/owl

3 fix mum’s broken vase and dad’s radio

4 !make music!!!!

His eyes watered again when he stared at the last one. Digging his pencil case from his bag he rummaged for something sharp and frustratingly found nothing. Pulling open drawers he went through tape, billions of lead-less pencils, ironically a sharpener and eventually a pair of scissors. Asher wasted no time in running over the last number on the list till it was unreadable and small twirls of wood started to curl over the blade. 

Done and somehow feeling significantly better he retired to his bed and curled up under the covers. On his desk, there was a corrected number on his list.

Her hair in a tight bun, her outfit a block leather jacket and high-waisted jeans with black booties, Assia began to sit in front of the grave. She scanned her surroundings, trees engulfed her. She wasn’t in a cemetery, no there wasn’t time for that. She was in the forest behind her old house, which was, much like her father, buried six feet under. Except, he wasn’t buried under this tombstone, which was forged from the earth itself, vines wrapping itself around the edges.

Her mother had made it herself. 

Being a commander in the army, Jack had been given a proper funeral earning a badge of honor for all of his service. He was buried somewhere Assia doesn’t know because they left before the funeral even happened. They left the night they found out he was dead. She wonder what people thought of them; his family who didn’t show up for his funeral. His wife who didn’t show up for her husband, kids who didn’t show up for their father. Watching wind caress the tombstone, she wonder what he would have thought.

“Do you hate us, dad? Do you hate me?,” she asked with tears filling her eyes. 

“I hate me,” she continued. “I hate myself for being so caught up in being my own person that I pushed you away. I hate myself for leaving Mom and Nic because I know the one thing you’d want is for us to be a family. I couldn’t even go back now. What would they say? Mom would scorn me and Nic would never look at me the same way...Would you? If you were here, would you think different of me?”

She was crying now. Her mascara running and her make up mixing with her tears. She pulled her legs to her chest. 10 years later and she still felt like that little girl who just lost her father. The little girl her loathed the fact that she would never get to see his body. The little girl who loathed her mother for being so strong and making them cut all ties with her life before London. The little girl who loathed herself for carrying such resentment for her family who only showed her love. 

“I’m not that little girl anymore,” she told herself repeatedly. Her eyes burning but she kept her gaze on the grave. “I’m not that little girl anymore and I won’t be her. Upon your grave, Dad, I swear it. I’ll be strong. I’ll be fierce. I’ll be better. I know you never understood why I chose the dark, but it was so I could be my own person; so I could be my own strength. I know you must hate how I handled things, but I do hope one day you’ll be proud of me. I’m going to do amazing things daddy. And I promise I will reach out to mom and Nic when I’m ready. Then I’ll make sure we all visit your real grave because there’s nothing left for us here anymore.”