Now people have asked me where I get my inspiration from, I mean, none of this could've actually happened, right? I usually don't answer them, but this time, I will.
Maybe one day you should go to Hawkins, Indiana
Maybe you'll find two men, running the arcade, one with curly brown hair who can make anyone laugh, and one with chocolate skin who will never betray you. You'll find them ignoring their customers and running for the phone. Crying when they hear the news.
Maybe you'll find a teacher, art, who always gives the best advice and would do anything to make you feel better. He'll take the day off, just to wait for the call. Falling to his knees as he gets the news.
Maybe you'll find a man with a picture in his wallet of a younger him and a girl with the writing "one day he's gonna leave me for her -Will" on the back. He doesn't get the news by call, the teacher visits him to make sure he handles it well.
Maybe you'll find a beat-up house with a man running out of it with a camera around his neck and tears streaming down his face.
Maybe you'll find an old married couple who don't even need to hear the news, the photographer's reaction is enough to make them sob.
Maybe you'll find a man talking to his kids as he gets the call, maybe his wife will try to take care of the kids but, let's face it, he's always been great with kids.
Maybe there'll be a woman, halfway across the world, who has dealt with loss and grief already, but when she gets the phonecall, it all comes back to her. The death of a friend never truly leaves you.
Maybe you'll find a redhead chief of police, one not afraid to stand up to people, anxiously waiting in her office before getting the phonecall. She breaks down.
And maybe you'll find someone sitting by a hospital bed, holding the hand of the one they've loved since the day they met them. Maybe you'll find them praying and hoping and wishing and doing everything to make the other wake up. You'll find them dropping everything and just sitting there frozen as the monotone, constant, beep fills the room.
And maybe, just maybe, you'll find a small woman with once blonde hair sitting on her bed with her cat and her husband, breaking down as she hears the news.
Eleven Wheeler is dead.
Or maybe it's all in my head.
Sincerely,
Holly Wheeler
YOU ARE READING
Go ask Hop
FanfictionStranger Things texting bc why not //yes I'm very much aware they didn't have texting back then, I'm just an inspiration-less bitch// also it'll mostly be humor bc sometimes you just need an escape from the "Goodbye Mike."
