Just felt like posting what I had gotten through so far, this is a story I have been working on. Read and critique if you like! My most coherent thought as I sat was that the dark was an incredibly lovely place to be. It was something that allowed me to be alone with my thoughts, and that people only feared it because it allowed them too much time to think about the things they would rather avoid. I, against all norms of society, seemed to enjoy digging into my most painful reflections, chewing at them until the brutal truth over flowed. And I did it always in solitude, my music the only accompaniment to my mind’s wanderings. That is, until my meditation was shattered by the cruel all-seeing power of modern electricity. She burst into the room with her usual effervescence, in the middle of a sentence that likely began at the driveway outside. “… It all just seems so bustling, ya know? And that’s not even including everything that has to be done to get ready for the holidays, though that’s more fun than chore, we all know how fond I am of Halloween decorating. Do you think you could help with-“Cherie stopped in the middle of removing her scarf when she saw me. Realizing I probably seemed a bit out of place sitting in the dark, even to my sister who was used to such oddities from my corner, I tried to sit up and look nonchalant. With interest, I said, “Help with what now? You know I adore the holiday even more than you, so I doubt anything you can throw would be of any inconvenience.” But she didn’t react to my attempts of redirecting. Striding right over to my couch, she flung herself down next to me. Staring me down with all the sad puppy eyes she could muster, she said quietly, “Markal, please, just talk to me. And not about Halloween. I’m worried about you. I know you say you’re okay, and most of the time I can believe it. But not today, not right now. When I walked in here and turned the light on, the look on your face… that was not okay, not anywhere near it. So please, please, just tell me. Tell me what’s going on in that wonderful brain of yours, because I can’t know and that is one thing that drives me mad. Just, tell me anything. Tell me what’s on your mind right now. Even if it’s just nonsense.” I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t back out of it. Most of the time, if I could hide, avoid the issue, I could get away from the concern of everyone and deal with myself on my own terms and time. But now I had been seen, found out, and it was time to start talking. With a sigh, I began. “Thinking about all of it, the worst thing about being alone, is the lack of touch. Because most people have others to talk to – at work or when you step into a café or at the store – but how often do you actually touch those people? Casual touches, meaningful contact, having someone there with you all through the dark night. Those are something special, yeah?” I paused, lost in thought. “I want someone that I can snuggle with on the couch and watch telly. I want to ruffle someone’s hair in the morning while I hand them their tea with 5 extra sugars because they have a killer sweet tooth. I want to be able to take someone’s face in my hands and feel their stubble under my fingertips while I get a welcome-home kiss.” I felt Cherie start to reach out toward me, and I held up a hand. “And I’m not saying I’m completely hopeless, because I’m not. But it sometimes, it just… It builds up and sometimes I feel like the loneliness and energy of being happy single is too much. I feel like if I sit and think about it for one more minute I’ll combust. I can’t explain how much I feel the void of someone that I’ve never even met, how their absence, or lack of being in my life yet is slowly compressing me.” I realized I was almost shouting, and I composed myself. “And I’m great most of the time. I have a family that I wouldn’t trade for anything, and some of the best friends anyone could ask for. But even they can’t provide everything I need. There are still the moments when I’m alone, and that’s when the emotions start to well up and I start to doubt whether I really am okay. I see pictures of people I know with their boyfriends and girlfriends, and I’m happy for them, so happy to see them living their lives, but there’s this small piece of me that just despairs at what I don’t have. And I hate that part of me, but it’s there nonetheless. So yeah, that’s the type of depressing crap I think about sometimes, the stuff you see cross my face and make you worry. But really, it’s all a big pile of nothing. I am always fine at the end of the day.” Feeling suddenly nauseous and clammy, I stood up and fled the room, escaping into the open arms of the night. Glancing back, I could see my sister rimmed in the warmth of the window, still standing, reaching after where I had fled like the coward I was. Guilt welled up in me, for allowing my sister to see into my issues and giving her cause to worry. It was my biggest regret, knowing that I caused my loved ones unnecessary stress and distraction, that I could not be everything they needed. Shoving down my emotions as best I could, I began walking down the dirt track that led out to the fields, reveling in the biting cold. Wandering through the Irish countryside at night in only one layer wasn’t the best idea, but the cold always helped to clear my mind and calm my body. I imagined myself slowing down, my blood slowly turning to syrup in the biting wind, until I stopped moving completely, frozen into the landscape. I then reflected on how such thoughts calming me was probably a telling sign of my internal mental workings. Unperturbed by the thought, I continued walking until I found myself out in the middle of the apple orchard. Smiling, I began to run through the bare trees, racing their gnarled forms to the moonlight gilded fields beyond. I reveled in the lightness of my feet and the swiftness of my travel. How free running could make one feel, released for brief moments from the planet’s crushing laws. I slowed my grounded flying when I saw the dark shape rising up from the ground at the end of the trees. Looming up in a hunched form that resembled a sleeping giant, the old pole-barn still welcomed me despite its eerie appearance. Approaching it slowly, I ran a hand across the weathered paint, feeling it flake off in my palm. Not wanting to disturb the peace, I quietly felt my way to the front where I knew the back door was. Opening it just enough to get in, I stopped just inside the door, drinking in the overpowering smell of hay and dusty wood that was magnified by the inkiness. Feeling at peace, I reached over to the wall and flicked on the old overhead lamps. And screamed. The barn was basically one large room, with a staircase to the hayloft and a small tack room tucked underneath it like a homey version of Harry’s cupboard. The rest of the barn was once stalls, but they had been cleared out to leave a large space for storing farm equipment. Being as the farm had long since halted production, it was empty. Except now it wasn’t. The entire space was a shambling mess of exploded hay, and the walls looked as if they had been badly scorched. A heavy smell of atmosphere clung to my lungs. The air held a tremendous amount of electricity that reminded me of the ocean in a lightning storm. None of this is what caused me to scream though. My very (not) manly yell was caused by the fact that in the middle of this wreck was a body. I managed to note that there was no blood anywhere (only slightly reassuring in the face of facts), and slowly moved toward the center of the room. I very badly wanted to grab a rake and use it to poke the body, but that felt wrong on some level. I was just about to bend over when I stopped. What was the best way to approach this? As near as I could tell, the body was that of a young(ish) looking man, of perhaps Native American descent? I finally decided the classic shoulder shake was the correct approach. And then of course he popped right up out of the hay like a jack in the box. I screamed again, and promptly fell over into the hay. He just looked slightly offended. “Bloody hell mate!” I was yelling now. Yelling at a stranger in my barn who had mysteriously appeared. I felt justified. “You can’t just go and play dead then suddenly be not dead and scare the daylights out of me!” He leaned back on his elbow, watching me passively as I had my episode. “Are you quite finished?” My deadpan look of shock was convincing enough. “Really, I thought, out of all the things to declare, my scaring you would be further down on the list. Perchance after ‘how did you get here’ or ‘who are you’ or some such logical question. But no worries, your girlish tendencies are safe with me Markal, I assure you.” I continued to sit in the straw, as the support of solidness was quite welcome at the moment. But…” “Yes?” “How do you…” “Know your name? Finally, an excellent question!” He perked up, straightening himself minutely.
Posted on: Thu, 17 Oct 2013 23:17:34 +0000