Remembering

poppy-807870_1280

Seeing the quiet French field it was strange to think it had once been so different. The black and white photos in my little book were prove of that though. Once there was only disturbed mud and bodies, the green landscape lost forever. And of course, it hadn’t been quiet; the air had shook with deafening gunfire, shouting and the moans of the dying.

Sitting in the wheelchair which had now become my life, I clutched my book and the woollen blanket in my lap. I shut my eyes and was back there straight away, walking through the smoke. The trench was slick with running mud and rain was tumbling from a dark grey sky. I stepped over a body, a twisted mangle shape that had once been a living man. He seemed half sunk into the mud, face down. I carried on, so use to the sight it just seemed normal now.

My feet were leading the way as the rest of me was numb. I entered one of the shelters and sunk down into a damp camp bed. I didn’t know if this was my place but it didn’t matter. I think there was someone else in the bed above me, sleeping. Without taking anything off, I lay down and feel asleep.

My wish was never to wake up again but each time I did.

Opening my wet eyes, those imagines stayed with me. Bad shakes racked through my body. Someone was saying something but in that moment I had forgotten there were other people with me. None of them had been there, so they’d never understand what it was truly like.

Advertisements

Long Nights

people-2565369_1920 (1)

When the house got to cold the best place to be was in bed. There I could wrap up warm in the winter duvet and blankets, turn on my little heater and wait till I could feel my toes again. I read a library book to distract myself and listened to the fan whirling as well as the noises of the old house. Sometimes I’d hear other things; animals, the weather, stray notes of music. Tonight there were fireworks.

I dozed in-between reading chapters and checking the time. It was far too early for bed, yet the darkness blocking the window was suggesting otherwise. I’d never slept well in this house, even as a child when I’d come to stay with my grandparents which had been too often…

The memories were still heavy in the air, single moments playing over and over again, like ghosts I couldn’t escape from. I hate being trapped here, just like back then, but no one wanted to buy the house and without a sale I couldn’t move into other. So, it was either this roof over my head or none. I’d already been ‘none’ a few times and any roof was far better.

Perhaps, it was some unknown unfinished business holding me here or a curse? I didn’t believe in either thing. It was just the bad luck of my life. Reminding myself to contact a few people tomorrow, I closed my book and turned the heater off. The bedroom was warmer. I kept the lamp on though, I never slept in the totally darkness.

Settling down, I listened to the fireworks still going off in the distance. It was a few days after bonfire night but people still seemed to be celebrating. The loud popping, whizzing, bangs and crackles re-breaking every few minutes. I kept second guessing when it was over till it finally was.

Then, in the house I hated with a passion, blissful sleep stole me away.

Luna #writephoto

Autumn moons are the best, Luna thought as she settled her back against the tree trunk. Her pale blue eyes fixed on the clear night sky in which a crest moon could perfectly be seen. She held her palms out and felt the magic in the air. The flow was faint but there was still enough there to help complete her plans.

Luna smiled and gathered the magic into her. It seemed, for a moment, that she had a rainbow coloured thread running over her fingers and hands. Then there was nothing.

‘Soon there would be a beginning,’ Luna whispered.

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2017/11/09/thursday-photo-prompt-luna-writephoto/ with thanks)

View

nature-2609726_1920

He’d always liked watching the sea so it seemed only fitting for us to bury him there.

The Last Letter

virus-1812092_1920

Dear Lucy,

The sickness is growing, I can feel it and if you’ve found this letter it means the time has finally come. I’m now too sick to sick to talk to you. I’ve gone to my bedroom and will die in my bed. Don’t bother coming to see me, there’s no point. My life has been so empty from the beginning that it only seems fitting that I should die alone now.

I’m trusting everything to you. Underneath this letter is the envelope containing my will. Only you and I know about how I live and that what people say about me isn’t true. I want you to up hold that imagine of me though; the quiet, yet social writer and artist. Who attend a different party or grand opening or some other important event every evening. Who’s house was always full with friends and he slept with different women each night. The too kind, mysterious, rich young man I wish I’d been in my youth.

Please carry on writing my ideas and books for me. You were always so good with new technology. I made it so in my will that you were able to write under my pseudonym, that way you can carry on perfecting your craft. You’ll make a great writer someday and finally be able to step out of my shadow.

I’m sorry to have to leave you like this. You have been like the wife and daughter, I daydreamed about having. I feel I should give you more but you already have my name and career in your hands, so what else can there be?

Good luck.

Here

pexels-photo-262007.jpeg

It was here on these benches that we sat together. Talking, laughing, kissing. I can still feel you every time I sit here. Nothing has changed; people still walk by, birds peck the ground, the seasons come and go. It’s autumn now, your favourite time of the year. You use to kick leaves, even though people stared. We’d drink hot chocolate and re-live our childhoods.

I still remember that as if it was yesterday, though years have past now. Sometimes when I come to sit here, I talk to you. I tell you about the grandchildren, about the holidays our kids took me on and about dear friends who are sick. I know people pause even if I don’t see them and I know in their minds they are wondering if I’m okay. Dementia has everyone on the edge.

I don’t have it. I just miss you so much. We use to say our lives were nothing without each other and how can we survive without being together? Those were just sweet things lovers say but I know the truth of those words now. Despite wanting to watch our grandchildren grow up, I don’t want to be without you anymore.

I’m ready to see you again now.

Postcard #39

halloween-2870607_1920.jpg

Saw this postcard at the last car boot sale of the year and it so reminded me of you. I was hoping it would reach you before Halloween but doubtful with the village post! Found this book too and it seemed interesting, something about a vampire virus. Anyway, hope to see you around Christmas.

Ben.

Bonfire Sparks

fireworks-light-japan-festival-66277

I hadn’t been feeling well all week but I wasn’t about to let it stop me from going to the bonfire night party.  I hadn’t been to one in years and the idea of seeing a professional firework display and spending the weekend with my boyfriend was just too good to miss.

Making sure I wrapped up warm and had everything I needed, we set off and walked to the park. There were huge crowds all ready and the smell of hot food swamped the air. I held my boyfriend’s hand tightly. We walked around, pushing our way through people who were gathering before a circled off area.

I saw they were waiting for the bonfire to be lit. I could see the pile of wood raising against the the dark sky. We found a place to stand and joined the crowed watching as some men light the kindling wood at the base. The flames were bright orange, red and yellow and they took to the dry wood quickly. Loud cracking and popping sounds joined the voices of the crowd.

We stayed for awhile, the fire growing and the heat becoming stronger. My boyfriend then moved us off to place where the fireworks display was going to be. There was all ready a mingling of people there, trying to get a good spot. That seemed silly to me because we’d able to see the fireworks from anywhere in the park. We stood before the rope and looked at the men who were doing some checks.

People began to press against us, loud voices and laughter surrounded us. I took deep breaths but it didn’t help. I felt unwell and just wanted to get out. I tugged my boyfriend’s arm and got him to lean down so I could tell him this.

He looked unhappy but we forced our way out of the crowds. We walked away and I felt better. The air was cleaner and cooler. We walked up a hill and joined a few other people who where there. Sitting down on our coats, he rubbed my back and talked softly to me. Thankfully, the tail end of my illness stayed to fade again.

The first firework screamed through the air and give off an ear shattering pop. I snapped my head up and the bright multi-colours dazzled me. Another firework shot up, exploding in front of the first and adding more colour to the sky.

‘Oh!’ I cried.

More fireworks went off, covering the sky in a wash of colours and deafening everyone with their music. I was enraptured and found it hard to take my eyes away. Then my boyfriend was calling me and tapping on my shoulder.

‘I’m watching this,’ I told him, unhappily.

‘I know, but I have to ask you something.’

I turned to him and noticed he was on one knee beside me. I frowned and then I spotted the small box in the palm of his hand. It was open and there was a silver ring glittering in the flashing lights.

‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

The smile that light up my face was brighter then any firework that night.

Windy Day

pexels-photo-622438.jpeg

I surrendered to the wind and give up trying to sweep the leaves out of my house.

Post It Note #40

images

The leaves were still falling and it was colder outside. Moulding pumpkins sat outside houses and I wondered why.