"Love’s Haunting Lullaby"
That box beneath my bed. Yes, that old brown box with my name scribbled on the top in my great-grandmother's hand. The box that if you touch it, you will find yourself alone, sifting through hours of faces fading from your memory and emotions all but forgotten.
The, what seem like colorless sorry excuses of pictures reminding you of your torn soul, A tear rolls down your cheek and drips from your sharp jaw line burning like fire. You wipe it away with the back of your hand and feel the cold sting of agony inside and you let out a gaspy sob as the tears come harder now.
'Why did they have to do this? Why did you leave?' You think to yourself.
Your heart screams and you want nothing more than to close your big green eyes and never open them again. All because of that brown scribbled on box, under the bed of a girl everyone says is long gone. The girl you were so close to making yours forever. You had gotten my answer, all you needed now was to hear me, in all white, say the two words that would make it final.
The memory crushes you and you slam the lid back down quickly sliding the box into the blackness between the floorboards and bed-frame. As you look around my dim dusty room that has been left vacant for so long your heart sinks.
Reaching for the door you stumble out into the hall of the quiet London manor. You hear the beautiful notes dancing from the strings of the grand piano suddenly while my long fingers caress the black and white keys. But you know it's all in your mind for the backs of my legs haven't touched the leather of that bench in over two months.
But you notice something, a pattern in the music it's a familiar melody. Walking into the reception hall you take a seat by the window. The end of the summer was here and the afternoon sky on the other side of the glass was dark with clouds.
Fall was coming fast and it was my favourite of year. You remember back to when I started teaching you to play. We would sit next to each other and tag the keys in harmony. With the sides of our thighs pressed together, we would connect through the music as the delicious smell of warm pumpkin pie filled the air throughout the grand rooms; the sweet scent drifting all the way from Margaret in the kitchen up the stairs and down the halls to fill our noses.
But then it hits you bringing you back to the present and you realize that sound you hear everyday, the one that seems to come from nowhere, is the song that I first taught you. The one I liked to play every night, but the notes seemed sad now as they came from that lonely piano. Suddenly your mind flashes to a dream you had a while back.
You had started to write about every dream that I was in. It was the only way you had to hold me close. But there was one in particular that stood out now. Me by the fire curled up on the rug with a book in my hands.
You stood in the doorway for a moment savouring the feeling of my presence but you didn't want to risk it vanishing before your eyes.
Dropping your hand from the cream coloured doorframe you left me in peace and went to bed. I later came into your room. Kissing your cheek and running my hand gently through your dark hair I set a note on your bedside table then shut your door on my way out. You were quick to open your eyes and unfold the aging scrap of stationary, revealing the notes and measures. Did you write this one down?
It slips your mind and you run to find the notebook by your bed. You start flipping through the pages drowned in the ink of your pen. Nothing, no sign of the music, but it has to be here.
You became a bit frantic. How could you not write it down? Then your eye catches a small white flap flutter from under the edge of your pillow. Your hand is shaking but you pull out the scrap and struggle to unravel it, hoping the whole time that this is it. Your sanity just might depend on it. But it wasn't the note, just the code to your safe that you had written down so you wouldn't forget. But wait, you had forgotten something. That's where you had put my song, solely because you cherished it more than the rest of your dream slips. Hunger churns in the pit of your stomach and the rest of your thoughts momentarily dissolve.
9 Months Earlier
I could hear the children giggling below chasing each other, weaving through tables and barrels with massive mounds of pink and blue cotton candy in their little hands and I couldn't help but to smile. The view from the top of the Ferris wheel was beautiful, the clear night sky splashed playfully with stars and lights strung everywhere on the carnival below.
Some bulbs red, some green and yellow, a few were blinking while others stayed solid and strong. The smell of mouthwatering kettle corn in the air was invigorating and I held my giant stuffed puppy closed to my chest. It was adorable but so big that you weren’t able to ride with me because it took up all the space that there would have been for you in the seat. Although I'm not terribly afraid of heights like my mother had always been, the free fall feeling in me was frightening enough. But I can't say I didn't absolutely love it. I looked over the edge again and saw you standing at the gate, waiting for me with a huge smile dancing over your lips, the same smile you had when you won me the prize I had in my arms.
My section locked into a stop at the bottom over the platform and I stumbled out of the big, swaying purple crate into your strong arms. You kissed the top of my head taking a deep breath enjoying the smell of the pumpkin scented shampoo I had always used.
“Hey beautiful.” You said as you wrapped your arm around my waist and we headed towards the entrance gates.
The weather was perfect, the crisp cool air nipping at our cheeks and the leaves fluttering to the ground all around us.
Love's Haunting Lullaby
From the novel Wishing upon falling stars
Written by Kayla Marie Craig. © Kayla Marie Craig
Kayla Marie Craig website kaylamariecraig.blogspot.com.es
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