Never Stay Forever

It was the time of year when the temperature starts to drop. Well, it does where I’m from. I was in my basement messing around with some of my belongings when I saw what looked like a young girl run past the window. I thought nothing of it until it happened again. I decided to walk outside and in my front yard was a girl that must have been about 12 years old. She had no color to her skin and hair and no substance to her voice.

Her first question was “Do you see me?”
Her second question was “What do I look like?”
Her third question was “Have you ever set a stone?”

I answered all three honestly. I saw her. She was in black and white. I had never set a stone. For the few seconds I had to think, I’d probably unset quite a few.

She then took my hand and asked me if would go with her. Instead of asking where, I agreed. She looked confident. In a flash I was in a foreign place. It was colorless and dry. I had always felt pretty comfortable with myself. I always accepted or part of a group. It was different here. Everything was uneasy.

The girl and I went for a walk and she asked me about my friends and their secrets. I avoided direct answers, but it made me think. My best friends had kept secrets from me since the day I met them. It made me curious, but I swore I would never ask them to reveal any secrets. I never want to rob that bank. I never want to unset that stone. I don’t want to know.

As we walked along some street that I’ll never remember the name of, I glanced over at an old man smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper. The date said 1956. In that second a flood of realization spread over me. I finally took in what was going on around me. There were old cars, old signs, and old voices everywhere. I knew what made me feel so uneasy. Everything and everyone that surrounded me was oozing innocence. I wasn’t from this place. My home is jaded. I was an alien to this feeling.

The more she questioned me the more I exposed about myself. I felt like we had a pretty interesting conversation going, but as soon as I asked about her personal life, she disappeared. But I stayed there, frozen in amazement. The old man came over and asked me if I was lost. Before I could reply he started telling me about how diamonds are cut.

We started walking and he wouldn’t stop talking about diamonds. He wasn’t wearing any. I don’t think he could afford them. I think he was so interested in diamonds because he never had any. Like his whole life was built around the idea of being successful and rich enough to own diamonds, to buy them for his wife that he became obsessed. In place of a diamond watch or ring there was nothing. He was a failure in his mind. He had failed and others had succeeded. He never bought his wife a diamond necklace.

Maybe at some point during his childhood he had seen that stone somewhere it became stuck in his head. I can understand completely. I think we are just looking for something that drives us. I am thankful that I haven’t found what drives me yet.

The man and I walked into a cafeteria and had lunch together. We both got up to go to the bathroom when we reached our crossroad. I began walking the same direction as him and he got angry. He said nothing. He pointed at a sign that read “WHITES ONLY.” He then pointed at another that read “COLOREDS ONLY.” Everyone was laughing at me.

At first I didn’t understand, but when I looked at my shirt it was still blood red. My jeans were still blue. I was the outcast. I walked into the coloreds only bathroom and I was alone. When I came out, the man was less angry. I never got his name. Once I came out of the bathroom I realized that he was glowing with diamonds. He had a diamond watch. A diamond bracelet. He thought I knew nothing of high society.

At that second, I knew the difference between rain and snow.

The man disappeared and in his place stood a friend of mine. What was strange was that my friend was in black and white. He wasn’t supposed to be from here either. He handed me a sheet of paper and in his handwriting was a sentence that I knew only came from his mind. It said “for every dollar I earn I’ll give you a hundred pieces of copper so what you have will not burn.” I didn’t understand. This wasn’t for me, so I gave it back. Electricity flowed through my veins and I was back in my basement.

I never asked him about that piece of paper. A few days later we were out at a convenience when he asked me to borrow a couple of dollars for a drink. I took out a dollar bill and started to burn. I went to my car and got him enough change to buy the drink. The change worked. The trees were on fire. But the copper still sold high at scrap yards.

That night it rained. A lot of people hate the rain. The next week it snowed. A lot of people love the snow. People hate the dark. They hate the change. They hate change. People hate change.
Diamonds can only be scratched by other diamonds.

I never spoke about what happened to me that day. A few weeks later, I took a girl out to dinner. It wasn’t a real fancy place. We had a good time. For some reason, the waiter put the bill in front of her. I said “how much is it?”

She said “$19.56.”
I pulled out my card and put it in the book.

I pulled out my card and put it in the book.

As we got up to leave she said “oh no, its raining. I hate the rain.”

All color was flushed out of me as I said “you would probably be happy if it were snowing.”

I don’t think she really ever loved me. I don’t think she was really even there.

I dropped her off at her house and kissed her goodnight. As I was driving home I pulled up to a red light and looked to my left. A car was there. I looked ahead to check the light. I looked left again and the car was gone. I drove when the light turned green and out of nowhere the car that had just been on my left hit my car head on.

I got out to inspect the damage. The other car was a mess of splintered metal and glass. My car didn’t have a scratch.


William Wallace

Merry Christmas