Removed prologue to Gravity:
I dream of them every night. I know
it’s a dream because I wake to find I'm the only one in the cabin. I wake every
morning to find the ceiling molding closing in above me. The room is shrinking—I'm
sure of it. I used to have a closet. There's no closet. My window was bigger—I
think. Five steps to the door—no—it's four today.
The living room is cold. The stone
fireplace is colder. I stare at it for a moment. Maybe the black lumps of charred
wood will rekindle, but they never do. The kitchen cabinets are always full. At least Red
is still taking care of my stomach. I rub my belly. I'm never hungry, but I
know I should eat something. I grab an apple off the counter. The bite is
crisp, like it was picked off the tree yesterday. But Red didn't actually do
that. Things just happen here in the Sanctuary. Apples appear, tomorrow maybe
grapes or bananas. He provides too much in food. This assurance is not what I
want. What I want is to be in his arms again.
I eat my apple and pretend he's just in his room. The idea
of him watching helps. A false sense of him being near helps me get through my
day. Pretending is natural when you're by yourself locked in a beautiful paradise
with no one to share it with. Imagination is my only friend.
Outside of the
cabin is not the same. Every day when the rain stops, I go outside to walk the
perimeter of the field before it pours again. The gate is checked and it’s
always locked. It’s never long before I'm drenched and I’m forced to run back
to the cabin.
I know this means
Red is upset. Grey had said the condition of the Sanctuary is a gauge for his
mood.
I know he is
hurting. I can feel it when I breathe. The air is thin as if Red is having this
trouble himself.
I can't eat any
more of the apple. I don't even want to swallow what's left in my mouth. Red
would not be pleased to know I can't even eat an apple. I close my eyes a try
and swallow. The image of Red folding his arms, tilting his head, "You
have to eat, Violet."
I'm so weak I can
fall asleep. I slump to the floor and drift off to dream the same dream of him.
I can feel the beating of our hearts sync. I feel Red is at my side. But when I
turn to see him he’s not there and yet, he’s in my peripheral vision. My aura
detects he's near. I still feel he is with me when a feathery caress kisses my skin.
“Where are you?"
The warm air breathes against my neck.
"Come home,”
I ask him. Red never answers when I demand that. He’s just a black obscuration in
the corner of my eye. He's a shadow once again.
Grey appears
standing too far for me to reach. The distance is constant no matter how much I
try to run to him. His black pea coat, pants and gloves appear to cover his
entire body like a cocoon. His features are nothing like I remember. He's too dismal
in my dreams; a stormy figure that sends a chill down my spine. His face is a
splattered distortion with gray eyes. I think he wants his face erased from my
memory. I try to retrieve it, but he won’t let me. I know the sweet part of him
still exists. My heart is still with him. I know he's there within the dusky
silhouette The other Grey is in the way of my
Grey.
What have I done
to him?
I remember in my
dreams I express that I will never stop trying to release him from the burden
that I beheld to him.
I know he's
always reading me and he knows what I'm feeling even if my words don’t make it
out of my mouth.
I miss him.
I love him.
Grey, I love you.
I love you.
He communicates,
but without a sound; it’s a simple discontenting glare every time. His silver
eyes are sharp. Why do my thoughts anger him?
No comments:
Post a Comment