How Does One Save A Life? (An Inspired Story)

Curiosity has lead you to this thread I see. I am thankful for that :3 Welcome~

For my one true and only favorite song, I decided to write a story. Inspired by the song How To Save A Life by The Fray. I do not own the song in any way, nor do I claim it and all right reserved for it. ^^

I just want to say thank you for clicking this forum thread and proceeding to read this far, it means a lot to me, I hope you enjoy my story, and I'd greatly like to read feedback when you've finished reading if you'd like to type if you enjoyed it or not. :3 Without further ado, proceed downward to begin~




    When someone lives on this world, they tell their story. They tell of what they will, be it helping others, helping themselves, making a difference in the world; anything. We all tell a story. Each day we live we add on to that story. We live in our story of our life. Lives, a topic of our story, are a product of reality. When lives are no more their stories live on in the hearts of those who knew those lives. What if a life ended one day and its story was never told? Never known. Never whispered.



    "Come on, Jonah!" She had called out as she turned on her heels and crossed her arms, sending auburn curls twirling behind her in the autumn air and leaves scattering at her feet. The girl puffed her cheeks and bit her lips immaturely to form an irritated pout as her eyebrows furrowed. A gentle wind blew, nature's whisper to calm down, as the breeze disturbed the auburn curls of the girl that had just settled down to her mid back. She let out a sigh as her shoulders sulked and her arms fell to her sides limply and swung. Her vivid green eyes desperate to play. "Jonah!" She wined out pitifully.

    "Calm down Lilah, I'm right here," an older voice called out, vibrating gently with accompanied laughter. A boy with a warm smile revealed himself after maneuvering through several bush limbs, bushes that were almost as tall as he and could be mistaken for saplings if such a thing possible. The bush limbs trembled behind his wake as he walked up to the girl without a word, the crunching beneath his steps working well to break the silence. "Honestly, I don't know why you decided to pick the hardest route to your favorite spot in this forest. There is a perfectly fine path over that way," he had commented as his sky blue gaze drifted from her green eyes to the right. Lilah stood on the tip of her toes and ruffled his short, straight black hair. He quickly reached up and straightened the black strands back into place.

    "Silly Jonah," she replied in a happy chime, "this path is the most beautiful. Untouched by humans." Lilah raised her hands to the sky and spun around in a complete circle with a smile. Leaves continued to crunch and shift positions under the two with each movement of feet. "You know I love that," the green-eyed girl commented with a laugh as she looked up at her own blood. He had taken a step back during her spin to not get hit in the face with her hand. He shook his head slowly as he fondly smiled. To this reaction Lilah gave a clueless look.

    "Let's keep moving Lil," he commented gently, taking her hand into his as their steps soon fell into unison. Lilah continued to look up at him with a clueless expression but as Jonah lovingly squeezed her hand she quickly looked down at the joined hands and smiled happily. Without hesitance, the younger sister squeezed back tighter. Jonah blinked and then squeezed even tighter. A sibling war of who loved who more. Crunches sounded as they walked together. Lilah's final move what seemed hours later was a hard squeeze using both her hands. Jonah looked down at her and grinned cheerfully. "Two hands is cheating, isn't it?" He had asked as he couldn't help but start to laugh. The girl quickly looked up at him and smiled, laughing along with him.

    The wind blew then, nature's whisper in approval to their love as they walked and the crunches grew softer while they traveled deeper to the younger sister's favorite spot. The breeze had tugged at the settled tree branches and bush limbs as their laughter dispersed into the air. The laughter of children; the laughter of love.



    That had been seven years again. The cheerful Lilah had been twelve. The caring older brother, Jonah, had been thirteen. Jonah had been going into sixth grade, his sister would have been moving up into Junior High as a fifth grader at the time. These two were living their lives. Telling their stories. This, however, is now. Seven years have gone by. They are still telling their stories. Stories never die.


    "Jonah, stop crying," Lilah murmured as she sat on her knees in front of her tearing older brother. She sat upon leaves within the forest, they both did. The same area they had gone to visit seven years ago and during autumn. The same season with the same crisp air and warm colored leaves that crunch under any weight. "Jonah," she whispered as her voice was carried off by the gentle breeze that blew, "stop it," the girl pleaded. Jonah did not reply. He hung his head low and sat on his hands and knees. His short, straight black hair she had once ruffled so lovingly was hanging in his face and covering those eyes that had once looked right at her. "Jonah!" She shouted as she closed her eyes tightly. Lilah felt her jaw quiver as her face grew hot, her vision blurring with tears as she blinked her eyes open. Yet again, the wind blew and carried her voice away.


    The boy sat there on his hands and knees, near a river with a calm current that trickled with the volume barely over a branch rustle. Jonah's breaths were coming in as gasps as he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see the world his sister loved around this season. He didn't want to see this one place his sister loved more than any other place in the forest. He struggled to picture the vivid green eyes he had seen so many times before. His chest was heavy as he felt it would drag him through the ground. His heart beat was sorrowful and the tears rolling down his cheeks were in many numbers. He let out a low wail with an exhale. The boy couldn't even bring himself to speak as he continued to cry out his pain in small gasps for air. His figure trembled as his fingers clawed at the leaf littered ground, leaves crunched and shifted at the curving of his fingers.

    "Jonah! Will you listen to me!? Stop it!" Lilah pleaded as her green eyes shimmered with tears. They stung as they rolled down her warm cheeks and she let out a quick breath before holding it. A feeble attempt to stop them from falling. Watching him like this made her feel helpless and empty inside, he wasn't listening to her. She wanted to do something for the sibling that had attempted to cheer her up so many times. The sibling that had always been smiling. Her brother that had always been there for her to try to talk her out of so many things he knew were bad for her when she had no clue. Still no reply from her older blood. The girl lifted a shaky left hand and reached to comfortingly touch Jonah's tear soaked left cheek. As she made contact, her hand phased through him. With wide eyes, she pulled away quickly and gripped her hand tightly, pressing her joined hands against her chest as she screamed. For the first time—Lilah—the nineteen year old, bipolar girl, recognized the empty feeling inside. The feeling inside of no heart. No heart beat. No life. For the first time, Lilah realized she had died.




    When someone leaves this world, they leave behind their story. Their story could be of anything they led it to be during their life. We all have a story, the living and the deceased. Each day we live we add on to that story, each day we die stories live on. We live in our story, we die with our story. When a life ends one day and its story was never known, never told, never whispered; the story witnesses a rebirth somewhere else with someone else who will live the story already told once before. Stories never die. What if a life began one day and its story was always told? Always known. Always whispered.