Lost
Forgotten
Waiting for that someone
the right one
to come find me.
Waiting as the weeds grow
around me
through me
covering me until no one
can see me.
Until all that is left
are the memories of a once glorious
life.
A life filled with joy
sorrow
a little fear
and a lot of love.
Come find me
and together we will fill our memories
with all that is good
and bad
and a little in between.
Come find what is lost
before it is all forgotten
in the misty
hazy
vacuum of
time.
Follow the light, they always say. But what if you don’t want to follow the light? What if you don’t want to have your past played out before you one last time? Trust me. It wasn’t that spectacular the first time through. God only knows I made some horrendous mistakes I was still beating myself up paying for, so why go through it with him again? Or maybe I’m heading down and I will finally answer for my sins. There’s a thought that wasn’t comforting.
Yet the better question was, how did I get here in the first place?
Last thing I remember was walking through the wood and hearing a twig snap. Then it was a whirlwind of crashing, yelling – me – more crashing then…nothing. There wasn’t even any pain. If I was at heaven’s, or hell’s, gate, shouldn’t there have been pain of some sort? One would think so.
The light grew brighter but I refused to acknowledge it. Nope. Not going to look at it, follow it, and I’m sure as hell not going into it. Unfortunately, all I could move was my eyelids. Everything else seemed to be frozen.
“Don’t more, Mr. Green,” a female voice soothed. “It will all be over soon.”
What will be over soon? Where the hell was I? Opening my eyes I tried to get them to focus but the light proved too bright.
“Here,” the woman said kindly.
Suddenly the light was dimmed and I could see my surroundings. Or at least the ceiling, which was white and filled with lights you might see in an operating room. I wouldn’t know for sure because I had never been in an operating room, only had seen them on T.V.
I tried to ask where I was, but it only came out a croak. Swallowing in an attempt to put some moisture into my cotton filled mouth I tried again. “Where am I?” I rasped.
“That would be hard to explain,” the woman answered hesitantly from my right.
Blinking and trying swallowing again, I said with as much command as I could put in my voice, “Try.”
There was a few moments of silence before she finally said, “Maybe it would be better just to show you.”
Show me what? Now I was really beginning to worry. As I listened to her move around the room, I suddenly could hear the sounds around me. Beeping and whirring of machinery. Faint voices whispering somewhere above me in a language I did not understand. The sounds of footsteps as people moved around what seemed like a very large room, and still I could not move. What was more confusing was I should have understood them. I was walking in the Olympic Mountains in Washington State. If I was in a hospital nearby they should speak the same language as I did.
Suddenly my limbs felt lighter.
“There,” the woman said cheerfully. “You can now move, Mr. Green. Please be careful though. You still haven’t quite recovered from the procedure.”
Procedure? I started to sit up quickly and realized what she meant. The world took a spin around me and I almost fell off the table I was laying on. Strong hands caught me and held me in place until it stopped.
“I’m good,” I murmured, nodding my head I had it. Those hands slowly let go, probably afraid I would still fall. Swinging my legs around so they dangled over the edge, I slowly righted myself. Taking a few moments to make sure I would stay in place, my hands on either side of me gripping the table, my head bowed, I finally decided opening my eyes would be all right. When I did, I wish I hadn’t.
There could have been armed men ready to shoot me, a volcano exploding, my guts hanging out I would not have noticed, because what was in front of me took all my attention and held it fast. Before me was a smooth white wall with huge picture window. Outside was darkness streaked with white lights. There was only one explanation and I did not want to believe it until I had more proof. Gingerly slipping off the table, I stumbled to the window until my hand rested on the cold surface, my eyes never leaving what I was not coming to realize was true.
What’s wrong, Kitten?
I don’t eat,
don’t sleep.
It must tell.
I am gaunt,
my eyes dark with exhaustion.
Don’t you see?
What’s wrong, Kitten?
I’m being suffocated.
no room to move,
to think,
to breathe.
I am standing still,
my mind unable to put together words.
Here me gasping for air?
What’s wrong, Kitten?
I need help
but I don’t know how to ask,
who to ask.
Can you tell me what to do,
where to go?
What’s wrong, Kitten?
Can’t you see!
Help me
before it’s too late!
Before he takes everything,
before I am no more.
This is from a poem I wrote in high school in poetry class. The incident actually happened. I was asked by a teacher as I walked into the classroom, “What’s wrong, Kitten?” I did not tell the teacher these things, I wrote the poem instead. Although not all of it was bad, it was slowly being suffocated. It was quite sometime before I was free. But then again, are we ever?
I just finished a rather long book. About 740 pages, but I didn’t mind. In fact, when I saw how long it was I ecstatic! It was the lastest book by one of my favorite authors, Sherrilyn Kenyon. This one is from her The League: Nemesis Rising series called Born of Legend. I hesitated in starting it because I knew nothing else would get done until I finished the book, and I have a 4th of July party to get ready for. So I decided to wait until afterwards.
Needless to say, I didn’t.
I’m not big into writing reviews. I know for a writer that sounds bad, but in my defense I’m always worried I’ll ruin the book or movie for someone. So I try to keep what I say to a minimum. What I will say about Born of Legend is I am sorry it ended. This is a series I have read numerous times and eagerly wait for the next one. I feel as if I have walked away from some old, very dear friends that I won’t be able to see for another year or two with questions of, what happens next? What about this particular character that went off on a personal mission? What happened to him? What about these two? *pointing at a young couple* You’ve been hinting something is between them since they met at the age of four. Tell me more!
So now I sit here. In withdrawels. Wanting to play with my friends I met through Sherrilyn Kenyon and knowing I have to wait. Maybe now I can finish getting ready for the party. *sigh*
It was less than a second, maybe half a second, but it changed everything. I don’t know how to explain it. It happened so fast and at the same time it took forever. It was almost like magic, but not in a good sort of way.
I was reaching for the coffee and there was a noise. Just a small noise, but it was enough to catch my attention so I turned to see what it was, and there it stood. Small and furry, the mouse sat on the shelf staring at me as if it was contemplating the meaning of life. I suppose it was. I had never seen a mouse like this. The white fur was dotted with brown splotches, much like a pinto pony. And the ears were not so much round as they were shaped like a spade. The tail was swishing back and forth along the metal shelf, slowly, almost hypnotizing. Like a cat who was ready to pounce, using its tail as a countdown to the final lunge. But those eyes. There was too much intelligence in those eyes for a small mouse.
Slowly lowering my hand, I kept my eyes on the creature as I stepped away from the shelves. Looking away seemed like not a very good idea. Part of me thought it would disappear in a cloud of smoke, another part of me prayed it would. But it stayed on that shelf, its eyes following me, its tail slowly swishing back and forth.
Then it jumped.
With a little scream, I slammed into the shelves behind me, knocking boxes and cans off that crashed to the floor. Before my unbelieving eyes as the mouse fell it began to grow. Those small little legs stretching to the floor, the little nose elongating, the eyes growing, the ears and tail lengthening. When the hooves hit the tile floor with a clatter, yes hooves, a pinto pony stood before me. My hand to my chest as I gulped in air, desperately trying to calm my pounding heart, I stared into those large brown eyes and saw the same intelligence that the mouse had.
How? Why? What the hell?
The now horse stood proud and strong, its eyes never wavering from me, its ears stock still as its tail swished slowly back and forth as it did before when it was a mouse. Suddenly I realized it wanted something from me. What that was I had no idea. So we stared at each other, neither one moving except for me gasping for air and that damn tail swishing back and forth, back and forth.
Realizing that the thing did not mean me any harm, I slowly relaxed. Gently pushing myself from the shelves, a few more boxes falling behind me the only noise in the building that seemed as loud as boulders crashing down a mountainside, I stood on my own two feet. Unsure I would not be bitten; I reached out to the nose of the horse and placed my hand before the nose, a gesture of peace. Snorting, it nuzzled my hand. I grew bolder, running my hand up its nose to its ears. When it turned its head, pushing my hand, I smiled and obliged by scratching behind the ears.
“What do you want from me,” I mused.
Nickering, it shook its head and looked at its back.
“You want me to ride you?”
The vigorous nodding told me yes.
“I see,” I replied none too sure.
When it stomped its foot and snorted, I decided it was not going to take no for an answer. Looking down one side of the isle then the other, I realized that we were alone. That was strange since the parking lot of the store was completely full when I arrived. The pony snorted again.
“Impatient, aren’t we.”
Butting me with its head, it snorted again, this time stamping its foot on the tile floor.
“I must be mad,” I muttered shaking my head.
Taking a deep breath, I moved down the horse and took a hold of its main. After a quick thought, I bent down to see which sex the horse was.
“Male, huh. Explains the impatient part.” I could have sworn he rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to go with you, you know,” I snapped.
The look that horse gave me told me that I really had no choice in the matter, and to get on.
“Fine,” I sighed irritably.
With the ease of someone who had lived around horses all her life, I jumped onto his back. Once I was settled I asked, “Now what?”
It was a question that would forever haunt me, because what happened in that next second changed my life forever.
We have all had to say goodbye.
Whether through a death,
a breakup or moving away.
Or to an era of our lives
we’ve had to move on from.
Which goodbye was your hardest?
Saying goodbye to someone close to you is never really easy. Especially when you are not sure if you will see that person again. I remember taking my best friend of 40 years to the airport. She had moved away from Washington quite a few years ago, ending up in Texas. I hadn’t seen her in years, and even though we talked on the phone quite a bit, watching her walk away was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It took all I had not to burst out balling because I was not sure that this was the last time I would see her. After all it had been over 15 years since the last time, and life is so fickle. Happily we have seen each other since and hopefully she will be moving closer soon. But for how hard that had been, there is one that still sends me to my knees.
There are many different goodbyes. The goodbye as everyone heads off to work followed bye everyone heading home. The goodbye until next time we see each other. The goodbye of a relationship gone bad. The goodbye of a chance meeting or someone you may have had business dealings. Some get easier, some don’t. Most you know you will probably see again. It’s that goodbye where you know you will never hear their voice or see their smile again that is the hardest. That is the one that will tear your world apart leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened.
I have had a lot of loss in my life. I believe that when a person leaves this world I will see them again, eventually. That there is a place where we all come together once again. Too many times I have heard those on their deathbed asking why someone who had passed why they were there. Some may think this is the mind losing what little sense it had, but I don’t believe that. Every time saying goodbye is just as hard as the last because I know it will be sometime before I see them again and I will miss them terribly. The hardest, however, came suddenly and far too early.
In July of 2005, my niece, who was going to turn seven the following month, was killed in a boating accident. I won’t get into details because it will just start a rant that will do nothing but get me worked up over something I cannot change. I will say that it was senseless and the repercussions were felt far and wide. My sister worked and I was lucky enough to be a stay-at-home mom, so from three months on I babysat both my nephew and niece. They were like my own children. That first week was a haze and at the same time there were instances that were clear as a bell. And even though there was a funeral (400 people came to show their support. 400! That tells you how many lives this six year old touched) where we are supposed to have closure and say goodbye, it really is never enough. I still feel her with me, see her in my dreams when I miss her the most. As the years go on she is here less and less because to some extent I have come to terms with her loss. Still, I will never say goodbye, not really, because I know I will see her again. Even if there are days her loss brings me to my knees.
Copyright 2016 Heidi Barnes
This write is a response to Kellie Elmore’s prompt on her website Magic in the Backyard.
Pages before me. Each one filled with lines that swirl and connect into words that flow from my mind, never ending, wanting to be heard. Obstacles show themselves, keeping the words from telling their tale, damning them to be forgotten, driven back into the mist from which they slithered. How do I clear the debris that threatens to clog creativity to only a trickle? Concentration flits between subject to subject, never holding onto one long enough to bring a thought to fruition. A-B-C, 1-2-3, yes-no-maybe, to do or not to do. Forcing only causes water to slip though my fingers, while allowing to wander leaves fly away in the wind. Words flow through a mind filled with clutter, no end in sight, no savior on white horse on the horizon awaits, lost and alone, the battle drags on into the night.
This prompt is from a the author Kellie Elmore. She writes some pretty amazing poetry. You might want to look her up on Amazon. Every Friday she used to put up a prompt for those of us who loved a challenge. Many short stories, poems and one actual novel has been born during Kellie’s Free Write Friday’s. (FWF) After a hiatus she has once again began posting prompts for FWF. YEAH! This is the first one. If you would like to join or read past FWF (yes, even mine are there) please click here. As for now, here is the prompt and then my contribution. I hope you enjoy.
Source: We Heart It
Memory Prompt:
Write about your earliest memory. Good, bad, happy or sad. Before you begin, take time to dwell in that memory. Absorb everything you can about it. What you see, what you smell, what you hear and mostly, how you feel. Let it resonate. Marinate your mind in that one moment. Then begin.
I had just turned two the month before. I stood at the window of my maternal grandmother’s house waiting for my paternal grandmother to bring my mom home and bring my new baby sister. I had the perfect view of the sidewalk that connected the house to the garage and the driveway. I remember being really excited and that it seemed to take forever! Then they were here! I ran out the door and down the sidewalk to meet them halfway. I had a sister! The next memory I have is of sitting on my grandmother’s green couch and my mom putting my new sister in my lap. Once she was settled, my sister took a hold of my finger and refused to let go. She had a pretty strong grip for someone so small.
I have just updated the page for my series Destiny. I have added the link to the new prologue, which I think is much better than the old. Not as stilted. I have also added the book cover. For your convenience I will put both of them here. I hope you will take a look and let me know what you think. 🙂
To See What I See 