Reality's Sense of Humour

 

Sometimes, a call can be heard. A call to return, to try again. Sometimes, it should be allowed to echo.

 

A fateful encounter, long ago, caught in a single moment. The day was nothing if not normal and remained so for the majority of its duration; time had other plans. A single action. The first domino was pushed, the wheels set in motion. Energy. 

 

Two spirits, kindred in many ways, collided and bonded as though they had never been apart. Time dilated; days felt like weeks, passed like months but reality testified: In the time they had known of one another's presence, a caterpillar would have been hard pressed to metamorphose. 

 

Sensitivities rose as expectations did. Neglectful silence like shots at empty bottles; children at heart playing with forces neither understood. One sided effort to keep the other alive, unreciprocated but expected nonetheless; their bond not of blood but soaked in it.

 

To pastures new they ventured, a day to reignite the flame; passion burnt too brightly. Blinded by the absence in her mind. Pleasure changed her and she took it, regardless the cost. Placated by love, by naivete, they let it continue.

 

It should have ended there.

 

Time and time and time again, the storm, a constant reminder. One ignored until far too late, the damage seemingly irreparable. Two choices ahead of them. Two paths to walk:

Continue together and the storm would strike; a part of them forever lost in the carnage; a part of them never to be spoken of or seen again.

Alone, laden with the knowledge of their own, personal hel, they'd survive. Alone they'd walk and to them, she'd be dead. Alone they'd heal.

 

In their hand, the key to it all. Something so innocent yet cursed. 

 

It's said that the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself so this book remains near; every day it contains, a warden against the calls; a reminder against the temptation. Rewind the sands of time, reforge the rose tinted lenses. Never.

 

To return to that day, the picture was taken, never to take it again.

 

 

 

 

Calm in the chaos; life rampages around. Times revisited, understood.

 

Time passed. How much is unknown, days blurred to weeks, blurred further still. Time just passed. They haunted their life, a shadow of the person once there. From place to place, they wandered; life documented, their eyes not ready to re-read.

 

Alone, they walked on a treadmill of liquid cement. A soul, for a time entwined with another, rended singular once more; a wound out of sight but never out of mind, repressed jack in the box awaiting its nebulous cue. Calm and somewhat contented, they learnt to live again, lips sealed to the past that led to present.

 

Time had other ideas. Fatefully familiar fingers found themselves twisting knives; returning to old habits, pained temporal backtracking, raised walls revealing moments and contexts new. Snooping through the self, a picture laid bare.

 

Alone, she stood. In the place they had put themselves for so long, there she was; confused and hurting, deeper they delved. With companions recontextualised, they recounted their tale, the evidence they gathered. Laid bare, a scar started to form; healing could begin.

 

It could have been a new beginning.

 

Time, it seemed, was keen on repetition. Try as they might, newfound family failed. Evidence gathered and presented but the audience was far from receptive; silent backs understood their pain but chose apathy. A scream shot through the void; a choice presented itself:

 

Do nothing, veil the wound, ignorance would eventually be bliss? Deny themselves, disallow healing, all for the convenience of others. 

 

Return themselves to the one who began the hurt, the one who's push set them along this path.

 

In their hand, the key to it all. Something so innocent yet cursed.

 

Alone, their feet they tore; into the storm they walked. Instants fluttered around them, butterflies from their stomach; flashes of memories newly returned before them, clearer than ever. The pain unbearable, crippling, but still, they continued because they must. Moments present in double exposure focussed with faces present; hands of fate and friends recently made, gave strength for forward push.

 

Time came to open the book, thrown ahead into the storm. Eyes for the past, they ventured through the ink and graphite; their past a forgiving reminder. Such callouses formed, as stalagmites do, fallen tears did sharpen the skin; their surface unknowingly pointed now. Images formed within their mind, words from their fingers did flow; artist at heart, reminded as such, light in their eyes new glow. 

 

Alone no more, for fictionalised fact salved their wounded soul; safely shared in hopes that resonation would similarly soothe others. Words on the page ahead and a story yet to tell. Deep breath.

 

Time is cruel but also kind, it hinders and it helps; shifted perspective allowed them to see it all a necessity. They walked in stationary step, a lonesome road, but without it unprepared they'd be; words exchanged with friendly backs prepared their eyes to see; through the storm, a third choice made, beating the other two; the future now, shining brighter since they finally accepted who.

 

Moving forward to pastures new, her face in mirror behind; glances back, all she gets, a measure of progress made.

 

 

 

 

Flames died down some months ago yet embers remain at heart; for story's end underfoot, closure lies at start.

 

Storm's damage in process of being repaired, a return to normalcy. Reminders and remnants of memory lane by the wayside as construction moves forth; ocean still for the present but tsunami seeds take root.

 

Words unsaid, thoughts put to paper long after time called; calls to the void, audience unintended, kept safe close to speaker's heart. Separation spacial and temporal, no way she'd hear the words but a chance exists, a channel open, courage and cowardice blockade.

 

Left unattended, flames they grew; the fire another's continuation. From afar, they saw the flames rise, her face backlit in amber. Unsure whether to stay their course or risk that which they've made; back or free, the potential still there, looming just within reach. Back and forth, in their mind, miles and miles they paced; hypotheticals reigned down, a flood swirled within, drowning out all around. A need to know, a need to help, themselves and others affected; breaking the rules, conventions set, safeguards to keep protected.

 

Fingered the flames, prodded the wound, sharded time like glass; a single moment, web of possibilities, burning all around.

 

Tracing shards, glass tracked in, each motion closer to end; there she was, as if on cue, moth to chaos yet. Conversations down memories past, coerced to present with familiar force; arms outstretched, apprehensively taken, closure a new start. Bonds once broken, kintsugi now, halves a single whole; veins of crimson along the seams, stress beginning to fracture, time repeats its vicious song, a cycle ridden without loss.

 

Time apart meaningless, as if it never occurred; forging forth a blazing trail, together exploring a future seen. Time would tell if events should come to pass in flame prophesised but in ignorant bliss, they continue along, in a sense lost to her. Searching in tandem for flame's origin, questioning all but the obvious, problems emerge, as they did, pointed fingers reminded; rose stained glass embedded there, visions of what could have been, trance broken twice, with great sacrifice, Schrödinger's cat sealed in. Deep breath, lifted foot, back to the beginning they went.

 

Fingered the flames, prodded the wound, sharded time like glass; a single moment, web of possibilities, burning all around.

 

Following the lines, blood fills the splinters, finger read the words; her return, unworthy of weight and wait, underwhelmed by emotions stirred. Reactions nonplussed, feigned deer on ice, cautionary distractions she threw. Reminders of past, the day they left, time's return stood still. They spoke to her, stilted as it were, for a time and life span on; flint struck steel, a familial feel, a spark she tried to ignite. Flame underfoot, a reminder to them, return before the fire; strength in willpower, to beginning they went, box and cat returned closed.

 

Fingered the flames, prodded the wound, sharded time like glass; a single moment, web of possibilities, burning all around.

 

Shattered glass untouched this time, they know better now; emotions contained in considered restrain, what if's all played out. The box before them, closed, no signs of a cat inside; markings upon it misunderstood, ownership not quite right. Pandora's claim was stronger, to the multiverse in their mind; contented with the life they built after the storm deep inside. Set aside upon a shelf, the trilogy now complete. The first step taken to pastures new, closure lay underfoot.