Head Above Water

She stared at the dank walls of the cottage in despair.  It was filthy and smelly but the biggest disappointment was the old woman sitting in the patched up armchair.  She had worked tirelessly to find this woman and for some reason, she thought she would recognise her mother when she met her but this person was a complete stranger.  A stranger who rocked too and fro and didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Eileen?”  She tried again to communicate with the woman who sat before her.  Who struggled to peel an apple with a small knife and trembling hands that were gnarled and bent from arthritis.  Who looked with unfocused eyes that were still full of sleep.  Who opened her mouth only to lick her lip and leave a strand of drool hanging suspended from the corner of her mouth.

“Eileen,” she persisted as she knelt before the old woman, willing her to pay attention.  “I’ve come to find you.  I’m your daughter.  You gave me up for adoption on June 22nd, 1943.  Do you remember that, Eileen?  Do you remember me?  Do you remember why…?”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she accepted that Eileen was too far gone to answer her.  She fled the cottage where she had been born one summer’s morning and hid in her car.  But she would return or at least make sure that the old woman was taken care of - she didn’t know how she survived on her own. 

As the car engine revved and pulled away, Eileen began to hum a lullaby. 

I’ve been working on a novel but I felt that I shouldn’t be neglecting my regular practice.  Sometimes I don’t have the inspiration for short pieces though.  I may have to think about using writing prompts.

The Assassin stepped lightly and soundlessly up the stairs to find his latest nameless victim.  An easy job.  It wouldn’t be long before he was back home relaxing with a glass of red and some classical music.  The jobs had been becoming more frequent of late as his notoriety grew but he knew that the time was coming for him to move on and start anew.   He was becoming a little too notorious for his own good.  

He moved along the landing like a shadow and lifted his weapon.  She would be dead before she had time to give a surprised blink.  He was startled by the sudden presence of a small boy from a door on the left and stepped backwards heavily, lowering his weapon.  The woman’s head snapped up and instantly she knew who he was and why he was there.  He swore inwardly as a pair of soulful brown eyes stared up at him with interest.  This wasn’t part of the plan.  Nobody had told him there was a kid around.  He had been sloppy to be so surprised by a kid.  The woman ushered the boy into his room and closed the door behind her, facing the assassin, staring at him with the same brown eyes as her son.

The few people who had seen him before their death had looked scared, even angry but not this one.  “Leave the boy,” she whispered and he nodded automatically before raising his gun again.  He didn’t kill extras.  Only the one he was paid to erase.  She nodded, satisfied, opening her palms as if to show him that she wouldn’t fight.  Not that she had a choice.  The slightest pressure on the trigger and she would be dead anyway.

A lump came to his throat as she looked at him.  Her eyes resigned, at peace.  She nodded her head slightly as if granting him forgiveness, absolution.  He didn’t know why it affected him but his finger trembled slightly before he pulled the trigger.  She was dead before she hit the ground and he didn’t look back but the sounds of a young boy screaming haunted his sleep that night.  Of all the people he had killed, this was the first one that he would remember clearly.

On the cusp of new joy lies an elegant despair
Sucking light out of life, leaving questions in its path.
Fear and self doubt bed the voices of a dark master
Who speaks to you pityingly in mocking tones.
Disaster surely waits in life’s darkest tunnel where
Self absorbed moans echo the walls.
“No way out for us all,” they cry without pause,
Steely claws of anxiety inhale their last breaths.
The panic and the pain cripples them further,
The more they think over it, the more they lay down.
The crowds are brought to their knees in one clean sweep.
They give up.  Stop fighting.  Give themselves to the dark master.

The choices are there, unseen by the many
As the easier path is the one most walked upon.
Swaying to their own beat stands one in a million,
Deaf to the voices and the doom that approach,
Struggling to stay standing, they choose the hard path
The one that doesn’t end in barren dreams or fruitless hopes.
They follow that weak, flickering light out of the tunnel
But know that they will find themselves there yet again.
Shrugging off darkness, they run into the sunshine
And hope that they can find their way out again next time.
For they realize that no matter how well they prepare
The call of the dark master is too loud to ignore.

This wasn’t supposed to be a poem, I don’t really know why I wrote it this way, it led itself really.  I don’t think its finished.

She is the girl who draws you in with ease
Until you get too close and realize
That there is nothing behind those eyes.
No light, no joy, no emotion.
Nothing but the wall she’s erected to keep herself safe from you.
And when she rejects you, you walk away scornfully
Wondering why you wasted your time.
She watches you leave and wishes you could see past the wall,
Through it.  To the real her.

She reads fairy tales
And watches cartoons
In an attempt to reclaim the innocence that was stolen from her.
But nothing works
And when the pain gets too much
She cuts open her skin and lets a river of blood wash the memories away.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it makes her forget.
She needs to control her pain, to cleanse it
And she can forgive herself in the morning if she tries.

My younger cousins dared me to do it.  As the eldest, I couldn’t pass up a dare.  So I crept unheeded into the bedroom where my grandmother lay on her deathbed.  Bravery disappeared as I saw her frail body laying there.  I had never really known her but it still made me sad to see her there, with so little life left.  I approached the bed slowly, dare all but forgotten, and watched the slight rise and fall of her chest.  I held my breath as she seemed to take an impossibly long time to breathe in again.  Her white hair was lank and straight.  I had always thought her hair was curly and briefly wondered why they hadn’t styled her hair the way she liked it so she could die looking her best.

From the hallway I could still hear the adults arguing.  They hadn’t stopped since we arrived.  All of her children already arguing about her house and her money.  All of her children so worried about their own inheritance that they didn’t bother to savour the last moments with their mother.  I sighed deeply, my heart heavy.  Even at the age of twelve I knew it wasn’t right.   I slipped my small hand into my grandmother’s cold, unmoving one and jumped with fright as she gripped my hand in return.

“What did I do to deserve such children?” she muttered in a low croaky voice.  She looked me straight in the eye and smiled.  I wondered how she could smile at a time like this but her smile was truly happy.  She resembled the old photos of herself that decorated her bedroom.  Photos of her smiling, happy, with lots of people, with her children.  She must have had lots of stories to tell, lots of stories she wanted to pass on and even though she had her children, she still had nobody to tell her stories too.  I felt a sudden urge to find out everything about her before it was too late.

As if she sensed my urgency, she squeezed my hand again.  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, my love.  I changed my will.  The only ones who will benefit from what I’ve left behind are my grandchildren.  All of their arguments are for nothing.”

We both chuckled at this final joke until her laugh turned to a cough.  Her cough turned to a death rattle.  Her grip hurt my hand as her eyes widened in fear.  Panic drew me in.  I wanted to run but she wouldn’t let go.  Suddenly, a peaceful expression soothed her features.  She loosened her grip but I stayed by her side anyway and watched the life seep away from her eyes.  She left this world with me by her side, blank eyes but with the shadow of a mischievous smile on her lips.

I stayed there until the room seemed to grow ice cold.  I left my grandmother’s body to be discovered by her loving children a mere three hours later.

True to her word, her will disappointed every single one of those loving children.