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Order this writing in the collection book Revealing All Your Dirty Little Secrets available for only $1995 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Awake
K.J. Erickson
I awake trembling with coldness in my bones, unlike anything I have ever known before. Chilliness so profound, I feel my bones creak with its unmerciful vengeance, with the slightest of my every movement, which I cannot help. But with horrific anguish, I somehow succumb to the war raging inside the dreadful most parts of my innards. The pain is so overwhelming, so stimulating, for I know, I have to pluck it from my mind, if only for the moment, for I need a measure of escape of the naturals inside of me, an out.
Loose, freshly turned soil squishes between my bare toes. So sporadically my eyes dart to and fro, I can’t seem to control them, as the comprehension of my surroundings bewilders me.
I look down, upon my gown of sheer silken white and delicate lace, as the bottom of my skirt fades blindly away into a sea of almost waist-length white soupy thick fog. Fright builds in my heart; I summon up all my strength and begin to run, to try an escape from the dark and coldness that has encompassed me. My bare feet skim lightly over the fresh dewy grass and the chilling gooeyness of fresh turned earth. My mind frantically races trying to make sense of it all, my memory frozen somewhat, absent of how I awoke to such blinding darkness and such brittle coldness.
Glimpses of memories flick sporadically through my mind, only pale vague picturesque flashes of the past flash, if somehow carved in memory stone lie in my mind, images of me so helpless in the warmth of strong and comforting arms, flow through my mind, arms of my true love.
A love that I knew was forbidden from the beginning, a love that would be shunned from the entire world, because I was married to a proper man, an older man of my father’s choice. One that was old enough to be my grandfather, or more. But I could not help my self from the love and lust for such a poor, young, and so vibrant man. A man that I desired with every waking moment of my thoughts, so compellingly, so alluring, and so sensuous, that he had controlled my soul since the first moment I had laid eyes upon him, many years of my past, the lust of diabolism, according to the church.
Down the path I practically fly, trying to find a way out of the darkness, tears stream down my already stained scorched cheeks, they burn trails of indenture upon my chapped face, anguish and terror clench my insides in a grip so full of despair, I had never known such as before.
Such coldness envelopes me, I throw my arms around me trying to ward off the shrill bite of the persistent and invading chill. A cold that has sunk so deep into my frail bones, I am afraid I will never be able to ward off.
My eyes manically search my surroundings again, the ground churning with white fog lying as far as I can see, troubles my worries, even more. My eyes dart in one direction, and then another, I find myself running face first into a forever ending wrought iron fence of blackened spikes which sends spiraling white flashes behind my eyes. With compulsive instinct, I lick the oozing blood from my nose with my tongue. Grabbing the coldness of the heightened spiked barrier, I grab the slick coldness of the bars in my hands and rattle them with all my strength. Although, the towering bars of my prison will not relent.
Deep guttural cries escape from the pits of my winded lungs·my desperate pleas of help, echo out throughout the darkness and return to me pitifully unanswered. The cold has somehow sank deeper within me through my unanswered pleading for help the fear by some means pierce deeper than imaginable into the pit of my soul.
I fling my body away from the stark darkness of the barracked like walls; I begin running again, my long hair and white gown billowing out behind me in symmetrical harmony like the wind rippling feathers on the wings of a frightened bird. I stumble over a fog blinding obstacle, my fingers and feet try desperately to claw in the wet fresh earth and grass to retain to maintain my balance. With my mind spinning wildly out of control and desperation seizing my heart, I dare not look back at the obstacle that caused my tumble; my only thought is to get out of here. As soon as I recover my footing, I am running again, no matter of the aches and pains in my weakened bones.
Once again, I stumble over another object, hidden discreetly by the blinding fog and distortion of tears in my eyes. With all my exertion, if only for a moment I scramble to my feet and take several deep breaths of ice-like air to calm myself. In the faint distance I hear a faint tinkling of water. With the blinding fog that has started to rise higher, I notice that I will defiantly have to depend on my other senses to search out its source.
Almost blindly, I slow my pace and walk upon the frigid coldness of the ground which has now turned to a mixture of smooth and somewhat sharp pebbles, piercing agonizing punctures in the bottom of my feet. Through the drifts of floating white mist that seems to continuously swirl around me, I can somehow make out a large, dark, and forbidding object in front of me. The jagged evilness seems to loom over me like some monstrous beast, as my heart begins to convulse in my chest. I blink several times trying to rid my eyes of my persistent salty tears. The white shroud of fog has now risen over my head making visibility nil. The forbidden creature seems to loom over me with its tormenting darkness, with unrelenting defiance; except for the spray of mist spewing from it’s head on to my face.
With all my courage summoned up, I reach out, cautiously, with terrifyingly, trembling fingers, and all I feel is a smoothed polished coldness·the chill of cool surfaced stone.
Laughter gushes past my lips, before I realize it, as I know I have grasped upon a stone water fountain, so statuesque, so endearing in front of me. As my eyes squint through the darkness and fog, I can make out a cherub of angelic qualities sitting so elegantly high on top, tooting a horn from which the tinkle of water is spraying forth.
I sigh with relief realizing my folly, without hesitation I cup my hands together and scoop the cool fresh water in my hands from its basin and splash its contents upon my face, drizzling some of its contents against my parch lips and into my mouth, which is such a welcome delicacy at this moment.
As I rise again, swallowing the last mouthful of cool substance.
I feel a familiar hand upon my shoulder. His hand is large and wide and I would know his touch even if I were blind. I feel a tingling sensation from my shoulder down to my tensed up toes. I know that only one man can make me feel this way — the touch of my true lover.
I turn around swiftly, so glad to feel his familiar touch. He stands there so god-like in black trousers and a crisp white shirt smiling down upon me.
“How did you know where I was?” I asked.
“I will always know where you are.” He replied in a low soft tone, unusual for him.
“How could you know? I do not even know where I am.”
He smiled, with that smile I could not resist, and then pressed his lips gently to Mine.
I closed my eyes and accepted his gift ever so willingly. Our kiss seemed to last for such a short eternity, an eternity I never wanted to end. For he was the only one that I knew would keep me safe from the cruel world around us. When it was finished I did not want to open my eyes but somehow I knew I had to.
I took a step back from him and gazed up to his face, I shrieked as I focused in on the bullet hole in his forehead and the blood that was incessantly oozing out. As I glared at him the memories came flooding back·The memories of my husband finding my lover and me together in our guest house, how he had came home early
the afternoon in one of the hidden rooms, of our vacant cottages. In his despair he had taken his pistol of vengeance upon us.
I looked down upon my gown and the garment was suddenly covered in the bloody wrath of my husband’s punishment, riddled with his retaliation. I began to scream. My lover held out his soaked bloody hand. A smile of genuine quality was plastered on his face. The fog had miraculously cleared and the markers of the stones of the dead circled around me, the obstacles I had stumbled over with fog blinding unknowingness. The truth of its despair had taken his vengeance upon us.
All so confirming now, I placed my hand in his assuring hand.
“Even in death he can not separate our hearts!”
I felt peace as I left this world to be with the one I truly loved!
