Silence falls, so heavy you fear it might shatter into a million pieces. Each razor sharp, leaving your soul in ribbons. Too late you realize you’re boxed in with no where left to turn, escape in not an option. Everyone has been pushed away until they have have forgotten your name and now, even if they could hear the calls for help, a finger would never be lifted.
Then the whispers begin as if they never left. They promise. They cajole. They curse. They condemn. They know what needs to be done.
And so do you.
She always found her way to the fringe, hoping and dreading someone would notice her. In school it had been the back row in class, where she would slouch in the desk, feet almost touching the one in front of her, only participating enough so the teacher wouldn’t single her out. Walking the halls close to the walls to avoid touching or being touched, the sounds, scents, and motion swirling around her like a dark presence.
A spirit watches life passing, an ever flowing streams of light and sound. Colors swirl and dance, touching for a moment before moving on. Hopes and dreams sparkle, fireflies at dusk, here then gone and back again.
She reaches out, a bitter sweet smile upon her lips, watching life slip through her fingers.
There is storm coming in from the sea, back skies, boiling waters, and howling wind…
Should I go for a swim?
The night was soft and sultry, filling her room with scents of lavender and jasmine. A soft breeze flowed over her bare skin. Who thought blackouts could be peaceful?
The room was silent, the air still. Sweat dampened her clothes and hair leaving them clinging to glistening skin. Standing by the lone window, arms held tightly across her stomach, tension rolled off her in waves which were almost visible.
Not for the first time I wondered how a figment of my imagination, a wisp of a dream, could seem so real I could almost reach out and touch her.
There were times when I thought I knew her better than I did myself, others I was left thinking she was a stranger, separate. Thinking of her blazing blue eyes, they often seemed endless wells, which if I fell into them, I would lose myself forever.
I tossed myself onto the bed, pointedly keeping my eyes on the yellowing paint on the ceiling.
The endless clouds reminds me of distant forest fires, a rage of destruction without sound. The trees bare, forlorn limbs weighed with a cloak of black birds. They are silent and still, hard eyes reflecting the dead, sourceless light.
I too am silent. My heart beats because it knows nothing else, my lungs draw in air tasting of copper and dust. Feet moving forward, one step at a time, with terrible finality; carrying me that place, that tree, waiting beside the river I never wanted to see again.
Copyright 2017 by Kira A. Moore, all rights reserved.
She sat on her father’s lap, head against his chest so she could listen to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. His heat enveloping her. His scent, of deodorant and some undefinable thing which was him, filled her nose and calmed the emotions which threatened to overwhelm her once again. In her hands she held a green shirt, not THAT shirt but close enough. Not the one she begged her mother to wear. The one she agreed to even though it didn’t match her outfit. The one which made her late. The one she was wearing when…
A tear rolled down her cheek as her breath caught in her throat.
Without a word he hugged her close.
The fox stopped and looked at me. I don’t know what she was thinking but I’m pretty sure she was laughing.