Follow You

I wrote this prose to explore the idea of ambiguity and the experience of having something only you can experience seem to "follow" you around. Whether this be depression or the memory of someone, both positive or negative, or even something more supernatural like a ghost, the main part of the story that is key is the shift of both subjects from being passive to being active and the rejection of the norm that the work has been following up to this point. This was mainly a way for me to explore ambiguity and to allow readers to come up with their own conclusions rather than draw something for them. The spacing is meant to further emphasize the repetitive nature/motions of the subjects' interactions and also divide the story into different moments rather than having it be more free flowing.

Wherever you go, I follow. 

You stop. 

I stop. 

You go. 

I go. 

The sun casts its glow on you and I am your shadow. 

Short and stout. 

Long and looming. 

In the shade of the sycamore tree, you rest your head on your elbows propped up by your scar-covered knees. 

I am all around you. 

You linger on me for a moment, scrunching up your face. I leave a bad taste in your mouth. You wash it away with a gulp of water and a shake of the head. 

I’ll make you drown. 

Street lights cast a warm glow in the evening gloom. You walk alone on this cold windy night. A slight breeze churns into a ferocious gale. 

You shouldn’t be out by yourself at this hour. The thought makes you clutch the strap of your bag harder. 

You walk so heavily, you know. 

Your steps are like anvils dropped from five stories up. Heavy feet for a heavy heart. I feel like you’re being watched, and you do too, for you turn around at an old empty park bench and stare into the desolate street. 

You stare. 

I stare. 

You stop. 

I stop. 

You wait and cock your head. 

I reach out. 

You pull back.

You turn. 

I stay. 

You go. 

I stay. 

You leave. 

I stay. 

Why can’t I follow you?