Poems and Other Stuff {including plot bunnies}

Chapter One 'A Spiral Void of Chaos' part 2

Anne Rebecca Wallace

September 27th, 1981 - October 10th, 2005

'God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled. ~Author Unknown'

I have read each grave over and over again many times, maybe too many times. I stopped picking up the flowers, I just looked up at Anne's grave. I let my fingers trace over the engravement in the cool stone. I held my hand back forcing it away from the stone. Not now, not right now. I stood up crushing the dead flowers in my hand. As I let out a long breath and the wind let out a deep and might blow. My hair moved everywhere as I looked off into the distance, I could see the sun peek through the clouds. All was well, and world was still.

I took my time again as I head back down the hill, only going the opposite direction. I let the warmth of the sun heat me as I walked on. I needed to do one more thing before I left to go back home. The graves were getting scarce now; the spaces were becoming much more open. It was becoming closer and closer to its original purpose, being a field. I shoved my hands back into my pockets with only a few bits and pieces of the dead flowers left in my hand. Then I came upon the last grave.

Martha Maria Row

January 1st, 1964 - October 10th, 2005

 'She will always be loved and missed.'

My mother, hours after I died, committed Suicide. My mother, Martha Row, had Schizophrenia. She was diagnosed with it in 2000, right after she had given birth to my two sisters. For a while she took the medicine she was given, but she would get very sick from it. My father couldn't watch her in pain all the time so he took her off of it. She was mad, crazy, insane after we took her off the medicine. She used to sit in the attic and sew as she hummed a tune. She would be up there for hours. Never coming out to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom.

My dad said she was scared, the illusions were worst than ever. Though he didn't put her on the medication, he didn't have the heart. She wouldn't talk to anyone, but me. When she found out that I had died, she didn't know what to do. Her sickness told her that now her life is done. She listened. She left a suicide note then she used hung herself. I can remember her note, it was simple, plain. She had written it on a fancy piece of paper.

------------------

Dear Family,

I wish my sickness could go away, I wish I could be well. But I can't.

I feel empty inside, gone, lost, alone. It's not your fault. It's mine.

I let the demons get in, find me. They are everywhere. Every shadow.

Every noise. Every face. They tell me everything. The evils. The goods.

Now all I can hear is evil. All that I see is evil. All that I touch is evil.

I'm lost, and I know there is only one way out. One way to ride them.

I wish I could help you through this already hard time, but It's too much.

I love you all. Be safe. Walt, watch over Lizzie & Chrissy. I'll be in Heaven

with Chris. I love you and I will always be with you.

Martha

------------------

She let the sickness win. The fight was just too much. I brushed my hand over the grave, thinking about her. She was truly beautiful. I remember her as if she had only died yesterday, as if only I had died only yesterday. She was like a Chinese doll; her brown eyes use to glow as he thick black hair covered her soft gentle face. Even with the sickness, she looked like a doll. A scared lost little doll. I sank to the ground next to the grave remembering her funeral. The small church, few people, the dull dreary music, the wilted White roses, the burial. I wish I had really died instead of her. She didn't deserve to die. Not like that.

I couldn't think of that any longer. I got back up to my feet as the sound of humming rang in my ears. I turned towards where it was coming from to see a small old women standing next to a grave. I let out a sigh as the wind blew. The remaining leaves shook from their trees then they gently fell to the earth. Fall was coming to an end, soon it would be winter. Another cold winter, another winter here.

I began to walk back towards the front entrance of the cemetery, feeling the need to leave this place. It held too much of myself. It practically all rested here. "Jimmy?" A voice called out in the wind. I looked towards where I thought it came from, it was the old women. She was staring right at me. "Jimmy? Is that you?" She called out again. I stopped where I was and looked around. It was just me and her. She brought up her hand and stuck out her index finger waving it back and forth. I was unsure of this whole situation at the moment. Though what's the worst that could happen, I'm dead already.

"I'm sorry, I'm not Jimmy." I spoke calmly as she grinned at me. I stood near her, near the grave she was visiting. She looked as if she could be 80, and she was all dressed up in black. "No, I'm sorry. You look just like my Jimmy." She murmured as she gestured to the grave on the ground. I glanced at it. It read:

Jimmy Norman Douglas

November 30rd, 1925 - December 5th, 1988

'Heaven shall be ours forever, we just need to learn how to Dream.'

It was a rather interesting quote, I didn't quite understand it. I looked back up at the women. Her eyes were glued onto my face. "You really look just like my Jimmy. He had crystal blue eyes just like you and nice brown hair. You look like he did when he was young." She whispered this as she looked back down at the grave.

"Are you alright?" My voice rang out stronger than I thought is would. She looked back up at me and smiled, I wasn't sure at all about what her response would be. "No thank you, I'm just glad I got to see my husband one last time." Her words were even stronger than mine, she seemed at peace. "Have a good day." Her voice became stuck in my head. It was gentle, worn, crisp, light. "You too." I replied as I watched her slowly, step by small step, walk away from the grave and towards the gate. I watched her as she walked on the sidewalk down the street, alone.

Now it was my turn to head back to the house. My steps were faster, and farther than the old women's. I could see the roof of my house minutes after I had left my haven. I could hear the wind pick up speed. Today was November 30th, the anniversary of her husband's birthday. I wish I could know what she is thinking.

I began to really think everything that has happened in my life so far. Each and Every day since October 2005. The many changes that I've had to go through. I let the idea come to an end as I walked through my gate onto the dead back lawn. I shoved my hands back into my jacket pockets as I stood in the middle of the lawn. I looked up at the dreary sky as the clap of thunder roared through the windy air, rain was upon us.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

I hope you liked the chapter.

Have a good day.

~Emilie