A continuation of the theme,
Years of intense training; pushing my body to the limits of endurance and sometimes beyond, months away from my wife and kids, missing the birth of our second daughter, missing three Christmases in a row all for the sake of chasing a childhood dream.
I wasn’t very good at school struggling with usual way of learning, but I excelled as science and sport, preparing myself for the challenges ahead.
The day itself seamed real only in my imagination. Standing next to the rocket that will take me off this planet and out among the stars was surreal. I kept touching it to confirm I wasn’t dreaming.
Seven days later, after the ride from hell, I was like a child playing with zero gravity. The food is foul but worth every bit. Then came the moment I’d dreamed of all my life. The airlock opened, I guided myself out of the craft and turned around, and there she was, the most beautiful woman in all creation. The mother of us all in all her splendour.
Few things bring tears to my eyes. When my mother passed I wept for a week, but looking at the Earth from space, I nearly filled my helmet.
* * *
An intense pain ripped through her body, “what have you done!” she screamed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, locking himself into a steel lion cage, “I need to know.”
She grabs the cage for support struggling to breath. “Why!..Why me!”
“All in the name of science.”
She screams with rage as well as pain, he watches with sheer delight as she begins to change. Tears stream from her yellow bloodshot eyes as her hands become hairy and her knuckles crack. She glares at him with a look of shock that turns to hate as her teeth protrude to long points. Her shirt comes tight as her muscles bulge. “It works,” he said ecstatically, “it works.”
She screams again as her arms and shoulders burst through her sleeves, her paw like feet push through her trainers, her belt snaps as her jeans are torn in half by her expanding hips, her altering legs reduce the rest to shreds. Thick coarse hair covers her whole body, as her skull reforms with a series of hollow clunks. He slowly lowered to his knees overwhelmed with joy.
The creature she became fixed him firmly with a monstrous stare, a huge tear creped from its eye as it snarled and growled. He laughed as it leaped through a wall and into the night.
* * *
Clearing out my late mothers house was more difficult than I thought. Every part of it was abundant with memories that I simply couldn’t escape from. If loosing her wasn’t enough to deal with, sorting through her worldly possessions was heart breaking. Once prised items of sentimental value, now just a collection of material to be disposed of. A harsh reminder there is no dignity in death, and no matter how much an object means, you can’t take it with you.
Among the clutter collected over a long lifetime, was her old teddy bear she’d had since she was a young girl. By now it was beyond hope of repair but still she kept it close. Even in her old age she was never without it. I did hope to put it in her coffin but never got round to it. It seamed odd it wasn’t with her any more.
Neither me or my sister wanted it but couldn’t bear to throw it away, so with great regret, I put it on the bonfire. I felt that in spirit, she would collect it on the other side and find peace, as I did when I watched it burn.
* * *
The following under the theme of,
“It starts with a race against an army of giants. I must reach the temple before they do and retrieve the bag of knowledge scrolls. Then I must go on a quest to seek the ones who need the scrolls, each with their own set of challenges I must face.
For some I must travel great distance battling wind, rain and extreme weather. One resides on the top of a misty mountain whilst another across the deadly lake with a hungry serpent who tries to eat me.
Another resides in a house guarded by monstrous devil hounds who’d surely rip me to pieces if they catch me. I trick them with food and the speed of my wit. Another is a wicked enchantress who tries to tempt me, but I resist to keep to my time limit. The scrolls must be delivered by a certain time or else the order of the world would collapse and evil will reign supreme!”
“I only asked how your day was?”
“Year, well, I’m telling you.”
“Why do you always have to be so melodramatic? You’re a mailman, not a Knight. You deliver mail, not magic scrolls.”
“Why do you have to be so boring?”
* * *
When I was a child I had a horrible dream, I was walking down the isle to greet my husband. Everything was perfect and strangely old fashioned like it was happening over a century ago. The organ was playing, everyone was looking at how beautiful I was; my husband to be was waiting with a warm inviting smile.
He looked so handsome I had tears in my eyes before I reached his side. My father proudly escorted me to the alter and quietly wept as we listened to the priest. I looked into my husband’s eyes, I was so happy and I wanted that moment to last forever.
It all went wrong when the priest asked if there was anyone who had reason why we could not be wed. As I woke up crying, all I could recall was a man with a gun, and my perfect dress splattered with blood. I could never remember if it was me or my husband who was shot, dreams can be funny like that, but I do remember crying in my mother’s arms for much of the night, and her saying how silly I was. It was just a dream after all.
For an eight-year-old girl it seamed so real.
Twenty years later and I’m several days from my real wedding, though it’s been a challenging period of my life with two rival suitors for my hand. I feel in my heart that I’ve chosen the right man, but the dream has come back to haunt me. It sounds strange, but, its as though its trying to warn me.
The night before the big day and the dream hits me again, only this time, all the faces are people I recognise as the people in my life. The man with the gun is the one I turned away. Again a wake up screaming with a gunshot echoing through my mind. Now I’m convinced there’s something unusual going on and secretly make a desperate phone call.
The moment comes, the priest asks the dreaded question. In the frenzy that followed, my rival was laying dead in the isle, my dress splattered with his blood. As the police officer I called shot him, his gun went off and the bullet grazed my shoulder as I pushed my husband out of the way.
In spite of it all, we managed to conclude the ceremony, though spending our first night in hospital wasn’t part of the plan.
Years later, happily married and raising our growing family I’m still haunted by the dream. I have this deep relentless feeling there was something more too it. Chatting with a friend she jokingly says that maybe I was remembering a previous life.
I didn’t think anything of it until I had another strange dream that left me with a name, Helena Mayfair.
With help from my friend I go on a quest to see if this name belonged to someone in the past. Many weeks later she brings me a file posted to her by a journalist she’s familiar with. The church where I was married, exactly one hundred years earlier, a wedding was destroyed when a jealous love rival shot the bride, and her name was Hanna Mayfair.
Her story seamed frighteningly similar to my own and I wondered, was I her in a former life, or was this woman reaching out across the years to prevent another dream being killed?
I didn’t believe in ghosts before, now I’m open to the possibility. Included in the file was an old photograph of Hanna. She could have been my great, great Grandmother.
* * *
He slams the car boot shut. The engine roars as he races off at high speed. His phone rings, its Sarah. He tries to ignore it, then answers. “DON’T BOTHER! I’VE HAD ENOUGH!”
“Danny, what’s going on? Where you going, come back!”
“NO! I’m sick of it!”
“The bullshit accusations you’re spreading, -”
“I haven’t said anything, -”
“Who else could it be! Thanks to you I nearly lost my job and my family won’t talk to me,-”
“Danny I swear I haven’t done anything, please comer back I need you, there’s someone inside th,-”
“I’m going Sarah, its over!”
“PLEASE, It wasn’t me, I love you, -”
“I’m not falling for it again, -”
“Please, I’m begging you, come back!”
“For the last time, its over!”
“There’s someone in the house, -”
“I can’t believe the amount of bullshit you dream up to manipulate me, NO MORE!” a tear runs down his cheek. “I’m going to visit your secret lover and I’m gonna mess him up, you hear me… I know about you and him…did you hear me…STOP PLAYING WITH ME DAMN IT…SARAH!…Sarah?”
A deep breath; internal conflict, his mind racing, an obscure idea. He slams the breaks and turns back.
* * *
The way she makes me smile whenever I think of her or hear her name, as she’s on my mind all the time my smile is ever present. The way she makes my heart flutter when I see her, my knees go weak my body shakes and my lips tingle with the need for her loving kiss. When she smiles at me I am lost for words.
My breath is taken by her beauty. I crave to be alone with her and fulfil my deepest desires. She turns me into a quivering wreck of lust that I’ve never felt for anyone else before. Not even my husband makes me feel this way. I dream to introduce them both, carnal pleasures shared by three. I love him but I lust for her.
If only my tears could speak.
Its clear she knows of my interest for her, that look in her eyes, she would have me I a heartbeat and I’d be powerless to stop her. A note delivered discreetly, a number and a lipstick kiss by a number 69 in a circle. Could I go behind my husbands back, or shall I take the risk and have them both?
This next phone call will change my life forever.
* * *
It’s those little things that help me realise how much I love him. The way he snores and mumbles in his sleep. The way he drags himself out of bed in the morning. Although he hurts inside he keeps a brave face for Ellie and helps her cope.
It hasn’t been easy for them lately. I love his determination to carry on. His stubbornness used to drive me insane at times yet its one of his endearing qualities. We’d fall out over silly things then he’d find the sweetest ways to make it up to me. His deep blue eyes and melting smile, when he’s happy he’d do this little shuffle dance. Always made me laugh. He hasn’t done it for a while.
I’m by his side all the time but he doesn’t seam to notice me any more. I can’t bare the thought of those blue eyes longing for someone else, kissing the lips of another woman, laying her down on our bed; giving his smile and his love to her. It’s going to happen so I know its time to go.
I lay next to him as he sleeps. Although he can’t feel me I kiss him and I whisper in his ear, “Goodbye my love, I’m so sorry. I long for the day we’re together again.”