A Lot Unlike Love: A short prose

Summary: Franky does not believe in true love and happy endings.

One cold evening in a small town, a girl with a broken smile sat on a rusty swing, writing down her diary. There was chimney in the sky. After two hours it got dark, the girl jogged toward her room in upstairs. She felt her body on her bed, not to sleep but continue to write. This time no more smile but sadness and depression I saw in her face. I do not know exactly what she was thinking about. I wished I knew.

Franky was a beautiful but pale girl. She could be cheerful but her torment disturbed her, everyday. The torment was about her broken parents which insisted to stay together although they often fought uncontrollably. I did not know what their point to keep their marriage was, it hurtled their daughter the most. She would neither be a good friend nor a girlfriend of anybody’s. I knew that the boys in her school chased upon her. She had nothing to be concerned about it.

‘When I was seven, my parents are about to go back from their very three-days-earthy-honeymoon. I was in my grandpa’s lap, waiting for them in the porch, with a lollipop in my hand. I had to say I was quite surprise for my parents were running toward grandpa’s home with tears in their faces and they locked the door. I heard the screams. It was terrible. Although it sounded terrible, every page she wrote was started with a good story. That was the sixth page of her writing.

At daylight she came to school as usual, sipping her green tea float while walking straight to the stairs. It was a quick crash; a boy hit her so hard right in her face. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” said the boy. She froze for a moment, she was grateful for not spilling herself. “It’s alright,” she said, after her consciousness returned. It was the longest eye contact that she ever did, like she was being spelled by the boy’s eyes. Her lips widened in her pale face. The boy did the same, fortunately.

After three months of courage chasing her love, Aiden had done much simple affection that she never got from anyone. It must be her first love. It was like the butterflies were dancing, taking all of her air when she was in the middle of conversation with him. She could not help herself. That was the moment that she knew she fell in love. Nothing she could do about her fate. So did the boy.

I saw them fighting, screaming to each other’s faces. They did not hold one’s hands, like usual. They did not say a sweet word like every night before. There were only fighting and crying. There was nothing wrong with Franky but I blamed Aiden for everything. He had changed. Not a good change. The fighting seemed like her parents’ flashback life, where every single rude word that came from Aiden, reminded her and took her to her parents’ circumstances.

‘My daddy used to colors everything that he found uninteresting and boring. He had no employment that could be more helpful for our life. It was not enough to maintain a marriage with one daughter that was growing up. My mother was an independent woman; she could get a job easier than my dad. Although I love my dad, I had to say that he was an asshole. He did not have an awareness to keep his family from bankrupt or to keep his love and affection to my mom, like he did when he was young. I hated him more and more.’

Out of her reach, it was not like other love stories that were believed with happy endings, or lived happily ever after, they said. She had to deal with it. Being together for almost one year gave her a realistic thought that a true love did not exactly exist, except in fairytales. She lived in a real world, not an imaginary world. It was enough she fell in love, temporary love, from somebody that she had a crush on. It was her first time and also the last time, she wished. She did not hate boys actually; she just did not want to deal with them. Deal with love that could be hateful and illusory.

I greatly thank my friend Monique Ariica who helped me correcting the grammar and voicing my story.
thanks to Anasafrida Alvionitasari for giving me suggestions for the title and also plotting my story.

Blue Valentine movie (2010)
Hemmingway, Ernest. 1924. A Very Short Story
Alicia Keys’ “That’s When I knew”

(Word count: 726)

Link for dramatization: https://soundcloud.com/astariamaliah/a-lot-unlike-love-by-astari-amaliah

4 thoughts on “A Lot Unlike Love: A short prose

  1. This story is unique for me because the point of view is taken from the third person. But the narrator itself seems like as bewildered as the readers. Usually the narrator is the ‘god’ of the story. For the example when the narrator says ” I do not know exactly what she was thinking about. I wished I knew.” or “I did not know what their point to keep their marriage was, it hurtled their daughter the most”. I also love how the author can make the bad ending love story as good ending for the characters. Although she ends up disappointed but it is acceptable for me as the readers


  2. Monique Ariica
    180410120043 / E

    The interesting part is when Aiden changes into a person whom Frankie never expects before, because I think it is the climax and that is what makes me more interested into reading the whole story. I never thought that Frankie decided not to fall in love because she remembers her experience with her abusing father. In my opinion, I also think that the story can be depicted with a Freytag’s pyramid because there are exposition, rising action, climax and falling action, but there is one thing that makes me kind of curious, why is there no resolution for the protagonist in the end of the story?

    Word count: 105


  3. 180410120062
    Class B
    The first thing I noticed when reading this story is how the narrator describes the story; I wondered about who the narrator of this story, it becomes a kind of riddle. Because the narrator uses the phrase ‘I’ which means s/he exists and living the lives of Franky’s or Aiden’s. It also seen in the beginning of the story where the narrator saw Franky sat on a swing, the part where Aiden and Frank had a fight and the content of Franky’s diary itself. Until the end of the story, I wondered about who is the narrator of this story. However, I love the way you describe Franky; it was full of detail. I can imagine my own Franky while I read the story. (Word: 128)


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