So this is an excerpt of a long term project (5 yrs.) that I am working on. The story I have compiled for last week is being retinkered (think Poe and a mourning dove who-who-who) so I feel like i needed to get some things out there. Here's ya go.
Excerpt from the Memory Project. . . .
I entered the woods, chilled by the slight change in temperature. The soft forest floor seemed to pull gently as if the underworld was wisping me away in delicate sinking. I crossed the small head of the gorge. Orange and yellow leaves that mounded up to form a bridge onto a crag of rock jetting out over the hillside that flowed down the small ravine ending ten feet ahead as it dropped into the forest below. New growth trees towered above and around as the tip of the small cliff revealed a gentle opening in the forest panorama. Mingo Knob still towered to the northwestern corner and the sky beamed with a buttery white glare hinted with pinks and blues.
Mom and Dad had put some chairs on the edge of the crag for moments just like this, and so as unnaturally as I had arrived, I sunk into the curves of an old wooden chair. With a single plop, I reached deep inside to suck in a relieving deep breath, but I stuttered as even breathing was seemingly burdensome. Still, with some thoughtful effort I filled my lungs and let it all out with such exhaustion that my body actually caved, falling deeper into the chair. As the breath blew from my chest, a rush of energy flushed my head and my eyes and tears burst from my heart. Tears fell like afternoon thunderstorms. There was no stutter or stagger to the pain that was pouring from my entire soul. As I wept, I made no effort to clean the shame from my moistened cheeks. The taste of whiskey joined a salty stream in what poets might call the taste of sorrow. Thoughts became fleeting twitches that moved across the mind like shooting stars. My view was blurred by the steady flow of tears falling like sheets from my burning eyes.
In the distance I heard the familiar grumble of four wheels sailing across chirt and gravel that is the sound of someone coming home. Still, I sat in my damp hole, sunken into the chair. The tears began to calm as the wind brought a slight chill to the cheeks. As the dogs ran off barking their warnings to the new arrivals, the gravel hum came to a settled parking spot. I heard voices laughing and playful with the dogs. Sarah and Mom had just gotten home.
With the same constitution as a man waiting to step before a firing squad, I sleeked out of the chair and began a slow meander back to the house. It was at that moment that I knew I was where I needed to be for this moment. Away from the world, protected and held by the mountains and my family. The walk was calm and settled. No energy hummed around me. The breeze was gentle and unaffecting. Sarah must have caught eye of my hiding and had already started down the yard with dogs circling, bouncing, whimpering as she teased them with the ever hypnotizing “ball.” My own calmness must have been telling, because their was no jump in her step or haste in her movement. As we neared each other the splashes of pain still glistening on high cheeks became more than evident and I could see that she knew the outcome. Still, with only the sweetness that a little sister can provide she asked anyway.I entered the woods, chilled by the slight change in temperature. The soft forest floor seemed to pull gently as if the underworld was wisping me away in delicate sinking. I crossed the small head of the gorge. Orange and yellow leaves that mounded up to form a bridge onto a crag of rock jetting out over the hillside that flowed down the small ravine ending ten feet ahead as it dropped into the forest below. New growth trees towered above and around as the tip of the small cliff revealed a gentle opening in the forest panorama. Mingo Knob still towered to the northwestern corner and the sky beamed with a buttery white glare hinted with pinks and blues.
Mom and Dad had put some chairs on the edge of the crag for moments just like this, and so as unnaturally as I had arrived, I sunk into the curves of an old wooden chair. With a single plop, I reached deep inside to suck in a relieving deep breath, but I stuttered as even breathing was seemingly burdensome. Still, with some thoughtful effort I filled my lungs and let it all out with such exhaustion that my body actually caved, falling deeper into the chair. As the breath blew from my chest, a rush of energy flushed my head and my eyes and tears burst from my heart. Tears fell like afternoon thunderstorms. There was no stutter or stagger to the pain that was pouring from my entire soul. As I wept, I made no effort to clean the shame from my moistened cheeks. The taste of whiskey joined a salty stream in what poets might call the taste of sorrow. Thoughts became fleeting twitches that moved across the mind like shooting stars. My view was blurred by the steady flow of tears falling like sheets from my burning eyes.
In the distance I heard the familiar grumble of four wheels sailing across chirt and gravel that is the sound of someone coming home. Still, I sat in my damp hole, sunken into the chair. The tears began to calm as the wind brought a slight chill to the cheeks. As the dogs ran off barking their warnings to the new arrivals, the gravel hum came to a settled parking spot. I heard voices laughing and playful with the dogs. Sarah and Mom had just gotten home.
With the same constitution as a man waiting to step before a firing squad, I sleeked out of the chair and began a slow meander back to the house. It was at that moment that I knew I was where I needed to be for this moment. Away from the world, protected and held by the mountains and my family. The walk was calm and settled. No energy hummed around me. The breeze was gentle and unaffecting. Sarah must have caught eye of my hiding and had already started down the yard with dogs circling, bouncing, whimpering as she teased them with the ever hypnotizing “ball.” My own calmness must have been telling, because their was no jump in her step or haste in her movement. As we neared each other the splashes of pain still glistening on high cheeks became more than evident and I could see that she knew the outcome. Still, with only the sweetness that a little sister can provide she asked anyway.
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