Reunion
By sarahv
- 521 reads
This was originally given to me as an essay in an English lesson
under the title ' Imagine that you have been seperated from a close
friend from a long time. Describe your thoughts and feelings as you
meet them again'
Reunion
I was alone and I was losing. I felt the panic rise inside me -
sickening bile from a stomach of lead. Waves of fear washed over me,
drowning, consuming me, adrenalin pumped through me, my heart pounded.
Panicked sobs began to rise in my throat, choking me; I needed to cry
out to someone but there was nobody there. Hysteria began to build. I
became painfully aware of the hysteria beginning to take control and
yet I was powerless to stop it
They had told me that I was brave, and yet I had no idea of how to be
brave now. Bravery had led me to this, left me aloof and alone. The
last thing I needed now was courage, what I needed was a friend. I did
not want to die alone.
She had not died alone; I had been there. I had suffered her pain,
fought her battles, fought for her survival, and then, even after she
had stopped suffering, stopped fighting, I had to endure life without
her, with only silent, mocking photographs to aid my fading
memories.
It suddenly became apparent to me that even if I died alone, I would
not be alone in death. After living without her for so long we would be
reunited. Our lives had been so intrinsically entwined, our friendship
so powerful, it was inevitable that our bond would not be restricted to
the living. She would be there, waiting for me.
She was there, holding out her hand to me, arms outstretched, welcoming
me. All I had t do was step over the line.
I instinctively reached out to her, as I had so many times before,
seeking support and solace. My fear had immediately dissipated. I could
not be afraid with her near. I tried to step forward, to grasp her
hand, to grab the lifeline that she offered me, but I was cruelly held
back, a line from the living preventing my escape. However hard I
struggled there was an unbridgeable schism between my hand and hers. I
cried out to her, imploring to her, torn apart by her hurt, puzzled
eyes. She spoke to me but her voice was inaudible, mercilessly drawn
inot the gaping balck hole between us.
We stood perfectly still, staring at each other, hungry eyes digesting
each other's appearance; frantically rebuilding our carefully stored
mental pictures. I searched deeper, looking beyond her eyes, reading
her soul.
For several eerily serene moments a comfortable silence ensued between
old friends, masses communicated with no need for cumbersome words to
convey delicate emotions. I dropped my eyes first; ashamed of her
penetrating gaze, afraid of what she might see. In her eyes I had sent
he flickering flame of hope, preserving our childhood dreams for the
futurem dreams that I had abandoned, a flame that I had banished,
extinguished by the pain. I was too afraid to join her, too afraid to
jump the schism and yet I was also afraid of retreating back, rejoining
the living. I did not know if I could bear to leave her again.
I slowly raised my heavy, reluctant eyes to meet hrs. She smiled
hesitatingly and slowly dropped her outstretched hand. She looked
straight into my pleading, begging eyes and carefully mouthed just one
word - 'Go'. As I turned my back on her, as I abandoned her, the tears
coursed down my face silently as my body convulsed with wracking
sobs.
The line from the living hauled me in and I emerged still sobbing and
afraid into the cold, dark room, left completely alone.
I turned to look at the photograph beside me and saw the reassuring
brave eyes staring boldly out at me. I slowly closed my eyes and out of
the swirling blackness a tiny pin - prick of light permeated the
darkness, a vulnerable, lone flame. With the tears still warm on my
cheeks I falteringly smiled.
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