It was too hot and she felt like she was melting away. Trying to find the energy to get up, knowing a cold shower would help, she pushed all the bedding away. She lay there wondering if this was how the Wicked Witch in OZ had felt. Wishing someone would throw water at her, she give up the struggle and began dozing off again.
She went to turn the page over, breath held in, eager to know how the novel ended. Her heart beat so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. Her eyes dropped to the page and there was nothing.
Frowning, she looked harder at the blank page then turned back to the previous one. Re-reading the last few lines, she flipped over again but still nothing. Bending the spine slightly, she saw that someone had ripped the last page of the book out.
My mother had been buried under the gardeners’ compost heap just like my step-great-uncle had always told me. I could see bits of creamy bone and scraps of dark red dress coated with damp soil and roots. Her death wasn’t a secret any longer but now I was about to join her.
The world looks different from the seat of a bicycle. Everything seems far more relaxed and there’s no hurrying if you don’t want to. Things just drift by, blending into color and you wonder why you never noticed the small things before.
We are tethered together you and I. Not in the sense that we can never be apart for we can be great distances from one another. It’s more in the sense that we are bound together by some unseeable force which is hard to describe. Some people would say this was fate, but I call it pure love.
Today, I walked along the beach and I dreamed about you. I thought about that summer we spent together and why now we can’t have any more. You know I would give anything to change that, but we both know that I’m not the problem.
Twilight was the most dangerous part of the day. As the sun set and the moon rose the portal between worlds became unstable. Evil leaked through like oil into a river, covering everything it could. People hide, frightened by stories travellers told of the things that ruled the night.
The river was good at keeping secrets. Though sometimes it decided to give them up; a broken arrow from a hunt, a lost ring from a lovers’ quarrel, a human body. A few secrets though, it would never give up.
The library is closing down so I’ve gone to see what books they are giving away. If I could I’d bring everything home but since the house already looks like a library I’ll try hard to just pick the best books. I promise!