 
# Hope, Depression, Love & Fractured Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other Pieces of Writing

Bradley Atchison

# Copyright

Hope, Depression, Love & Fractures Hearts: A Collection of Short Stories & Other pieces of Writing

Published by Bradley Atchison at Smashwords

Version 1.1

Copyright © 2012 Bradley Atchison

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 978-1-301-90531-7

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

# Cover Art

The art on the front cover is called, Heart Under Fractured Glass, created by Sydney Atchison and was used with her permissions.

# Acknowledgements

I would like to thank, Mike, Mark and, Patrick for reading everything I wrote from the very beginning. I valued their honest opinion on the good, and the bad. And finally for not telling me it was good, just because I wrote it, because, of them I was motivated to continue.

# Table of Contents

Contents

Chapter 1: The Red Door

Awaken

Hallway

Third Day

What's to Become of Me?

The Mattress

The Ladder

The Man

The Dream

The Kerchief

Alive

The Voice

Days

Window

Miranda

Colour

People

Red Door

Chapter 2: I Had a Dream

Chapter 3: Beauty in the Breakdown

Chapter 4: The Woman

Chapter 5: I Hear

Chapter 6: Filling Me

Chapter 7: I Love

Chapter 8: Smile

Chapter 9: Dreams

Chapter 10: Depression

Chapter 11: Always and for Today

Chapter 12: Three Simple Words

Chapter 13: You are my Love

Chapter 14: Carry On

Chapter 15: Letters from the Heart

September 6, 2003

September 13, 2003

September 21, 2003

September 28, 2003

October 3, 2003

October 10, 2003

October 11, 2003

October 18, 2003

October 28, 2003

November 5, 2003

November 6, 2003

November 7, 2003

November 8, 2003

November 15, 2003

November 18, 2003

November 23, 2003

November 24, 2003

November 28, 2003

November 29, 2003

December 1, 2003

Chapter 16: I Hurt

Chapter 17: Light

Chapter 18: I Am

Chapter 19: You Are

Chapter 20: The Beat

Chapter 21: The Field

Chapter 22: Vengeance

Chapter 23: Puppet

Chapter 24: The Sunset

Chapter 25: Ring

About the author

Connect with me Online

# Chapter 1: The Red Door

## Awaken

All he could remember was the flash! The white flash that blocked everything from sight. It blinded him and he had felt lost in its brilliance. He knew he had been in his car but where the light had come from, he could not say. But where he lay now was even more disturbing than the light. He was naked, not cold, but still naked. The room was small, extremely small and white. No other colour showed at all just white. He had wakened with a kink in his neck from the position he found his body. His head was pushed up against a wall and his legs were bent, with his knees pushed up against the opposite one.

He wasn't sure but he thought he had spent hours looking for a seam to a door, a vent, anything but to no avail. The room was maybe four feet by four feet with the ceiling just brushing his 6-foot frame when he stood. It was strange! Peculiar, how did he come to be here, he couldn't say? Was it a cell, a prison to hold him? If it were, what did he do to end up here? He couldn't remember.

"Hello," he yelled but his voice seemed to get swallowed up in the walls, not even a slight echo came in return. "Anyone, anyone, why am I here?" No answer came and he was unsure if he expected one.

"What's going on, where is this place? What is this place, hello?"

He had yelled until his voice hurt, and until he could no longer swallow, and then he fell to his knees and sobbed. "Why, why, why," he whispered his throat raw. He looked at his small prison, tears blurring his sight slightly. Slowly he climbed to his feet and walked to the wall and laid himself flat against it. "Let me out," he breathed into its surface, "Please let me out."

"Let me out!" he yelled again, his hands making fists which he then began to hammer against the surface. Bang, Bang, he repeated, his fist flying now, "Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Using all his strength, he kept banging away his fist numb from the hammering.

He felt dizzy and fell to the floor, his head in his hands and, knees pulled up to his chest., he sat there. "Why?" he asked once more to the small empty room before everything went black, and he passed out. His last memory as he went under, "At least its not white."

## Hallway

He woke, his head hurt, and once more he lay with his neck kinked. Rubbing his neck he opened his eyes to look at his surroundings once again. Something was different! The room was still the same, still small, the ceiling still low but, there seemed to be a hallway off one wall. He looked at it suspiciously, trying to determine if it was really there. Getting on to his knees he slowly crawled the few feet to the opening and glance around the corner. It indeed was a hallway, at least a good 8 feet long; narrow though, maybe just wider than his shoulders but, a hallway none the less!

Slowly he climbed to his feet and stepped in. Like the room he left there was no doorways, no vents, no windows but, the ceiling was slightly higher. Reaching up, his fingers traced a path along the smooth ceiling as he walked down the short hall, staring at the smooth white walls. "What is this place," he asked himself quietly. Reaching the end of the hall he turned back around and looked at the room he just left. "Hello," he whispered. "Hello anyone." Shaking his head he sat down with his legs out in front of him. "At least I'm not hungry," he spoke aloud, "That's strange isn't it!" he wondered out loud, "I've been here at least a day, I'm sure of it! Yet I'm not hungry or thirsty! What is this place?" he asked again. "Am I dead?"

He wondered at that last statement, how could he be dead, he could still feel his heart beating in his chest; he could still hear his breathing, and his neck and head hurt! If he were dead would he feel any of this? "No of course you're not dead, you're just being punished for something!" He tried to think back to before, but all he could remember was driving, then the blinding light, nothing else came to mind. Frustrated he shook his head and lightly banged it back against the wall he sat against numerous times.

"What have you done to do this?" he asked himself, he tried to say his own name but it was lost on his tongue, he couldn't seem to bring it out. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't, he didn't remember it! "That's strange as well, isn't it?" he asked the wall. "Not knowing who you are, that is strange!" The wall of course did not answer and he frowned at it. "At least I can lay out to sleep now," and he did so, spreading his legs out down the hall, he rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes.

He slept.

## Third Day

He woke and his head didn't hurt, his neck didn't hurt, but he was still within his prison. Unlike the day before when the hallway appeared, nothing seemed different today. He examined the walls of the hallway to be sure, slowly running his hands across the surface, his fingers feeling for any edge or ridge, finding none. Slowly he made his way back to the room and looked in not expecting anything to be different, and it wasn't. It was still the same, still 4 feet by 4 feet, still just over 6 feet high, still white!

He walked into the room and shaking his head, slid down the wall and sat on the floor once more. "Hello," he yelled now knowing no one would answer his call. "Do you remember your name today?" he asked out loud. He closed his eyes and thought about it. He could almost hear it, could almost grasp it but still his name was hidden just out of his reach. "You dumb, stupid bastard! What did you do to deserve this?"

He closed his eyes once more in thought, then opening them looked up at the ceiling, a sudden shocking thought coming to mind. "How long can I go on before I run out of air?" His eyes looked frantically around the room, "There must be a vent somewhere, air must be coming from somewhere, right?" Panic started to set in, "I'm going to die here! I'm going to suffocate!" His throat started to close up, and his breath became ragged, as he tried to draw in the air he imagined was no longer there. Slowly thing started to blur and he started gasping, "Don't let me die!" he managed to say before passing out once more, his body slumping to the floor.

## What's to Become of Me

He woke again, and he took a large inhale, ensuring that the air still remained. It did. "Stupid," he cursed himself, "You're situation is bad enough without you imagining it worse!"

He climbed to his feet, his head brushing the ceiling. Like the day before he ran his fingers over every square inch of the walls in the room before moving into the hall. Still nothing was different, it was still all the same. "I'm tired of white!" he screamed, "Can I have another colour to look at?" The walls remained quiet, ignoring his questions.

Slowly at first he began to run down the hall, when he reached the end he turned and ran back to the room.

"One," he said, and he turned and repeated it, "Two." Over and over he continued counting as he went, "Forty one, Forty two." His legs pumping now, the blood flowing freely through his body, he picked up his pace, "Sixty eight, sixty nine, seventy." he yelled with ever loop. "I will not go crazy, seventy five, I will not go nuts, seventy six." He continued sweat started to bead on his chest, his head. "Ninety, ninety one," he yelled his legs pumping hard his lungs gasping now, "Ninety nine," turning he started down the hall one more time, "One hundred," he said quietly as he let his body collapse to the floor. "I will not let you break my spirits!" he yelled at the empty room, "No matter what you do to me, I will not break!"

He let his head fall on his arms and closed his eyes. He dreamt. He was in a car driving, the road seemed familiar, he must have driven it before. There was a light up ahead and as he watched, it turned red. He slowed his speed as he approached and stopped on the line. A song was playing on the radio and he sang to the chorus. Out of no where his car lurched forward, his head crashing backwards on the seat, as the car behind drove into his with such force and speed, that it forced him into the intersection. Then, the blinding light filled everything, his very being, his sight, all his senses!

## The Mattress

He knew what had happened to him, it was a car accident; "A bloody car accident!" but it didn't explain the white room or hallway. He had discounted death, "This can't be death, God would not leave us like this, in our own little prisons to rot away, would he?" He stood up and began to pace the hall, his mind on the accident, "Did I know it was going to happen? Could I have avoided it?" He couldn't answer his questions, nor did he stop trying to. He was tired of the hallway, tired of the room. His mind left the accident as he looked at the walls again.

"How is it I see this? There is no light, so how is it I'm not in darkness?" His mind latched on, and he sank to his knees in the middle of the hallway. He tried to grasp on to anything that made sense, but he couldn't. No matter how he turned the situation, no answers came to him. Just like his name, it seemed to be just out of his reach.

He crawled to the room and stopped suddenly! A mattress filled the room from corner to corner. It was white, same as the walls and ceiling but it was there where a moment before it wasn't! "Who put this here?" he yelled through the room. Still no answer was given and he was left alone to contemplate the mattresses existence and, how it came to be here. He couldn't explain it; instead he crawled on to the mattress and with his feet still in the hallway, laid down on it. It was comfortable and he fell quickly asleep, his dreams when they came, took him back to his car accident.

## The Ladder

The mattress felt good underneath him as he rolled over and stared up at the white ceiling above. The room was still small but, he felt more comfortable than he had the previous days. The mattress probably gave him that.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," he counted as he looked at his fingers and toes, "Eleven," he laughed looking down at his naked body. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven," he counted again, he couldn't seem to stop and continued once more. Next his attention turned to the room. "One, two, three, four, walls," he spoke and then turned to the hallway, "Five, six, seven," he stopped suddenly. At the end of the hall was a white ladder.

He stood up and looked at the ladder coming down from the ceiling. Slowly he walked to it and stared up. He could see the hole above and the white ceiling beyond. He hadn't touched it yet, and did so now feeling the curved rungs. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," he counted. Looking over his shoulder at the room behind him, he shrugged and started climbing the twelve rungs.

He stopped when he reached the top and looked at the big room that opened up around him. It was bare, empty of everything except for a white couch pushed against a wall at the end of the room. He pulled himself up and walked slowly around the room, examining it. There were huge indents in the walls, that looked as if at one time windows stood there. Now however they just held more white wall. He ran his hand over the space hoping to feel something different than the walls, and was disappointed when he didn't.

Shrugging he turned and looked at the couch across the room. He examined it from afar. It looked as if it were leather and it was the exact same colour of white as the walls and ceiling were, just as the mattress below was. Slowly he walked across the floor, his feet making a slight pitter patter sound as he walked. The couch was puffy with three cushions for the seat. He looked at it then ran his hand along its surface trying to determine if indeed it was leather. Unsure of the material, he sat down and sank down into its comfort.

"Ahhh," he moaned aloud, "Now that's more like it!" He sat there for along time before climbing back to his feet. He slowly walked around the room, his hand dragging along the surface, just as he had done before below, he searched for anything he couldn't see with the walls. And as before, he found nothing, the room was completely sealed, except for the hole in the floor which the top of the ladder extended from into the room. "Is this some sort of game?" he asked the room, "Am I suppose to figure this out, is it a puzzle that I'm to solve? What? What is this?" No one answered but then he knew no one would, "They hadn't answered before why would they now!"

He walked back to the couch and laid down on it, the ladder now forgotten, the lower rooms forgotten, he would never go back to their confines. "One, two, three, " he began counting his fingers and toes once more. His head wrapped around the counting and he slowly drifted off to sleep once more.

## The Man

He woke the next day, he at least hoped it was the next day, because everything just seemed to blur together, maybe it was actually all the same day, he didn't know and it just seemed to hurt his head when he thought about it. He scanned the room and looked at the ladder in the floor, shaking his head at his predicament he continued with his scan and stopped, there was a door. In the centre of one of the walls stood a white door with white hinges, and a white door handle.

He climbed to his feet and walked to the doorway. He paused for a moment before reaching down to try the knob. He expected it to be locked but was surprised when it turned in his hand, and he pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was a man sitting in a white wing chair in the middle of the room. He was completely dressed in white, even his shoes were white. A paper was held in his hands blocking the view of his face.

"Hello," he spoke to the man. There was no answer. "Excuse me! Hello!" he said again, anger rising to the surface when once again there was no answer. He rushed across the small room and went to smash the paper away. His hand crashed down and it felt like he struck stone. The paper didn't even ripple and his hand exploded with pain. "What the hell!" he screamed, as he held his hand in the other trying to ease the pain. Still the man didn't speak. He walked around until he could see the mans face, he was shocked! The man's face looked as if it were carved from marble, every line, every crease in his face stood out looking real, but were in fact carved.

"Hello," he said once more quietly, carefully he reached over and with the tip of his finger pressed the mans face. The man didn't move at all, and the skin didn't feel like skin, never gave like skin; it really did look as if the man was a type of stone. "Well," he said surprised, "what else am I going to encounter here?" He looked at the statue, for that was what it had to be, a very good statue but a statue nonetheless. Even the paper he held looked real, the type on it was white raised gibberish, nothing he could understand.

"That looks like a mighty comfortable chair you have there," he said to the statue, "I hope you don't mind if I move you so I can sit do you? I didn't think so!" he said with a laugh as he pushed hard against the stone shoulder to topple the statue out of the chair. It wouldn't budge, and he grunted in exertion in his effort to move the statue. No matter how he tried, he could not budge it at all, and after what must have been 15 minutes, he finally gave up. "Well, I guess you do mind!"

He sat on the floor so he could see the face and body, and he looked at it. It was incredible, so life like, if he didn't know better the clothes even looked real, but he knew it was carved, so the pant leg really didn't fall and crease against the leg it was carved that way. The hands looked delicate with individual hairs showing on the fingers, so very life like. He was amazed at the skill put into the carving; he had never seen such detail before.

It was hours that he sat and looked at the man as if waiting for movement, but none ever came. Finally he crawled to his feet. "I'm off to sleep now, I hope you don't mind?" he questioned the statue. "I can't sleep in here though, you freak the hell out of me, but if you want me I'll be on the couch in the other room." He turned and walked to the door, he was going to leave it open but thought differently, and pulled it closed behind him. The couch looked inviting and he was almost asleep as soon as his head hit the cushion on the couch.

## The Dream

It started the same as before, he was stopped at the light when all of a sudden his head gets thrown back into the seat. His car shot forward and then the blinding light. It didn't stop there this time though, nor did he wake then. The room was cloudy, almost as if a mist seemed to fill the room. The ceiling was tiled and he lay on a bed. An older man gray with age stood over him, his glasses were on the end of his nose and he held a clipboard. A young woman stood beside him, concern lined her pretty face. She had beautiful greenish grey eyes, and she kept sweeping back her dark reddish hair off her face. They were talking in whispers which he could just make out.

"When will he come out of it?" she asked.

"I can't say, these things are hard to determine, there are so many factors and we are only just beginning to understand them. He could come out tomorrow, maybe next year. I can't tell you with any certainty!"

"But with today's technology, today's knowledge, how can that be!" she asked hysterically, tears started to form in her eyes.

"Miss Anderson, I can understand your concern, all I can tell you is that he took a hard blow to the head, it caused swelling in the brain. That swelling is still there, day-by-day it slowly recedes but, it is still putting stress on his brain. When it finally recedes completely he may come out, he may not, all we can do is wait."

"This is unbearable! He's my fiancé! We are to be married next month and you're telling me he may never wake up! He is my only one, how can you tell me this?"

She sobbed heavily and her knees must have buckled for she fell below his vision. The older man knelt down, "Miss Anderson, please, I know this is hard, I know that I never answered your questions, but we are doing everything we possibly can to make him get better!"

"Its just so hard." she mumbled into the older mans shoulder, "He is my family, my only family!"

The older man helped her to her feet, "I'm sorry Miss Anderson but I need to finish my rounds, there is a small chapel on the third floor and a young priest there, maybe you should talk to him, he might be able to help you understand this." Before she could answer he stepped back and looked at her somberly, "We are doing the best for him, if he is capable of getting better, we will make it so." The man turned and left the room leaving the young woman alone, sobbing. She wiped her eyes and leaned over to look at him.

"Don't you dare leave me! You told me we are forever! Don't you dare leave me Steven, I love you, I need you!" Tears started to form again in her eyes, and one fell and landed on his lips, he was sure he could taste the salt. "I'll die without you," she whispered before leaning over and kissing away the teardrop. "I love you Steven, I got to go but I'll be back later today." again she kissed him before turning and leaving him empty in the room.

The dream slowly faded and he found himself awake. "Steven," he spoke aloud, trying the name on his tongue, "I could be a Steven," he laughed. "It sounds like it might fit." The dream was already fading from his mind but he held on to Miss Anderson, her and her greenish grey eyes.

## The Kerchief

Steven climbed from the couch and danced around the room, "My name is Steven," he sang out, "I know who I am, I'm Steven!" He continued his dance and then began to run around the room, "One, two," he yelled out laughing as he made a complete circle around the room. He continued until he got to twenty and his legs were burning slightly. He fell to the floor and laughed as he kicked his feet and waved his arms frantically above him, as he squirmed on the floor. "I am Steven," he yelled once more.

Steven let his arms and legs fall to the floor as the elation was swept away. Yes he knew his name, but it still did not help his situation here! He was still stuck in a door less and windowless building with no knowledge, on how he got here. "Why!" he yelled angrily to the empty room, "Why the hell am I here! Why can't you just let me go? Just let me go," he said with a choke in his voice, "I just want to be let go."

No one answered, no one acknowledged, no one even came to see what the yelling was about, there was no one there. "That's not quite true," Steven told himself, "I have stone boy next door still!" He climbed to his feet and walked to the door and opened it, "Right stone boy, I've got you don't I, you big freak!" He ran at the man sitting in the chair and though he knew it would hurt, swung full bore at the head connecting just behind the ear. The pain exploding in his hand but he didn't care. "How's that stone boy, see you don't scare me!"

He danced and weaved around the statue his hands up like a boxer. He swung out in the air and weaved some more, his hands going up to block his head from some imagined attack. "Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee!" he screamed as he took another swing at the statue, this time connecting with its nose, again pain exploded in his hand. "Ahh, you're a tough one stone boy," he wheezed as he held his hand with the other as he tried to stop the throbbing. He glanced at the statue then stopped suddenly. It was no longer completely white!

The pain in his hand was ignored as Steven stood up tall and walked to the statue. He was indeed no longer completely white, his jacket and pants and shoes still were white, his shirt and tie, none of it had changed but now he had a yellow kerchief in the pocket. Steven looked at the kerchief afraid to touch it; afraid it wasn't really there. Slowly he reached out to touch it and the kerchief moved, it wasn't carved it was real! Steven pulled his hand back quickly as if burned, but then reached back to the kerchief and pulled.

The kerchief slid easily out of the stone-carved pocket into Steven's hand. Steven looked at it, turned it over and over again in his hand, feeling the texture, it felt like silk. He felt strange, the only piece of material here, and it was a kerchief, he Steven, was still naked, but he had a kerchief. He laughed, laughed out hard, laughed out loud, he shook with humor as he felt the kerchief in his hand. The yellow seemed to burn brightly compared to the room's whiteness and though it was only a kerchief, Steven was happy to have it.

"It must be my birthday!" he shouted, "first I find my name, then I find this yellow kerchief, it really must be my birthday. What more could a man want than his name and a kerchief? HOW ABOUT CLOTHES, HOW ABOUT A WAY OUT, HUH! Why can't I have those instead of this shitty little snot rag! HUH, tell me why! God damn it, somebody answer me for once!" he shouted.

He turned back to the statue his anger starting to subside, "At least I won't have to look at your ugly mug anymore," he grumbled as he spread it across the statues head and covered its face. "You look much better now!" he laughed.

Steven crossed the room back to the door and crossed the threshold, slamming the door closed behind him, once more shutting the man in the other room off from him. He moved to the couch and plopped himself down on its cushions. Rubbing his hands together trying to relieve the pain that had came back to his hands, he spoke to the empty room once more. "Let me sleep, maybe then I can see Miss Anderson again, and maybe this time she won't be looking down on me, but I'll be looking down at her, with her under me!" He closed his eyes and laid his head down and tried to sleep.

## Alive

Steven did sleep, but no dreams came to him, or if they did, he did not remember them. He laid on the couch his eyes open, he was wide-awake but he did not get up. "What's the point," he asked himself, "nothing will have changed and if it has, I will still be in a door less, windowless room!" So he stayed on the couch, his mind wandered but where he could not say, it would touch briefly here or there only to jump again. He gave up trying to follow its path and instead blanked it all out.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten ...eleven," he giggled as he counted fingers and toes. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

"I'm going crazy!" he thought to himself, "Why the hell am I counting fingers, my toes, my cock! What the hells wrong with you Steven? They want you to go crazy, don't let them win, hold on man, hold on!"

He pushed himself off the couch, not because he wanted to, but more to get the counting out of his head. He walked the room, back and forth, back and forth, his eyes on the door, never leaving it as he walked. "What are you afraid of? He's stone, why are you afraid of going in there today?" He couldn't answer that question so instead he paced and stared. Back and forth, back and forth his feet shuffled across the floor, finally what seemed like an eternity he sighed and turned towards the doorway. He crossed the distance quickly and pushed opened the door.

"I say, I was wondering when you were going to come in." the statue spoke as Steven walked into the room.

Steven stumbled and fell to the floor, his eyes wild, his heart beating hard in his chest, so hard he could hear it in his ears! "Who, who, who are you?" he managed to mumble.

"Who am I Steven, who am I? What kind of question is that, you know who I am!" the statue, the man, said as he placed his paper down on the floor and stood up. Steven noticed that the yellow kerchief was in the pocket of his white suit and he felt awkward. He was still naked and the statue was up walking around dressed in a suit and tie, his shoes clicking on the floor as he walked. "Why are you naked man? Are you not civilized that you go around naked all the time?"

"I ...I ...I have nothing to wear," he stuttered quietly.

"You have nothing! What is in the dressers, what's in the closet then?" the man asked pointing to a dresser and closet against one wall of the room. "What are they full of then?" he asked mockingly.

Steven stared at the closet and the dresser, slowly he stood up and walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. He looked inside and found dozens of pairs of underwear, all the same colour, all the same style. He took a pair out and pulled on the white briefs, they fit him perfectly. In the next drawer were white dress socks and again he pulled them on. Next he turned to the closet and opened the white bifold doors. Inside, hanging was a white silk shirt and tie, next to them was a pristine white suit, similar to the mans suit.

Steven looked back at stone boy as he called him and noticed the annoyed look on his face as he motioned Steven to get dressed. Steven gingerly took the shirt off its hanger and pulled it on, the fit was perfect he noticed as he buttoned the front and then the cuffs. The pants he took out of the suit jacket and pulled them on, they were a little big in the waist but that was what the white belt was for in the closet. The suit had hidden it but there it hung on a hanger just behind the suit jacket. He fed the belt through the loops and did the buckle. Next came the tie, his fingers shook and no matter how he tried, he just couldn't get the tie done up.

The man shook his head and walked over quickly. "I can't believe you can't do a simple thing like get dressed!" He took the tie from Stevens hands and wrapped it around his neck and deftly tied a Windsor knot, "There you go," he said as he handed the jacket to Steven, "Now you look like a proper gentleman!" He stood back and gave Steven the once over, "Yes indeed a gentleman now! Lets sit, let's talk," he said motioning to a small white wicker table and chairs that Steven hadn't noticed before.

Steven followed the man to the table and sat opposite him, "Who are you?" he asked again.

"You know me Steven, I've told you that, so lets leave that issue alone now. Tell me why are you here?" and he motioned to the room.

Steven shrugged, "I don't know, I don't know where here is! Its all white, everything, do you know why?"

"Steven," he said with a laugh, "I'm only here because of you, the reason for everything I cannot say, I am your guest, you brought me here, not the other way around."

Now Steven was confused, the statue had surprised him today, what with being real but he had hoped that answers would come now. "So you don't know why I'm here, or even where here is?"

The man shook his head, "You have the answers to that Steven, not I. Tell me now, why is it you brought me here?"

Steven didn't know how to answer, couldn't answer so only shrugged his shoulders at the question. "All I know is I woke up here, I've called for days but no one answers me, you are the first person I've seen, and yesterday you were carved stone! I think I'm going crazy, there are no windows no doors out of here, hell I don't even know how I was placed in here!"

Steven looked at the man to get his reaction and startled, fell back with his chair as he scrambled away. The man no longer sat before him, but the statue once more sat in his place. The table and chairs still remained but the drawers and closet were gone, the white wing chair still sat in the middle of the room, but now empty, the paper that the statue had held was on the floor beside. The only difference was the statue was now sitting on the table chair instead of the wing chair.

"What the hell is this!" he screamed in to the empty room, "What, am I truly going crazy? Am I dead, am I, what, tell me someone!" no answer came.

The clothes he still wore, and in anger, he ripped the tie from his neck and threw it on the floor before him. "I don't understand, please, I don't understand." he spoke as he fell to the floor and cried, "Let me out, let me out, let me out."

The rest of the day he sat on the couch his legs pulled to his chest, arms holding them in place. His body seemed to vibrate and he rocked back and forth, back and forth. The only words he muttered were, "Why, why," over and over again but he did not hear what he said, his head lost in the blinding light that filled him.

## The Voice

Steven didn't know when he fell asleep, he couldn't remember. Everything about the day before was a blur, he wasn't even sure if it happened. When he woke he found himself naked once more, the clothes from yesterday were no longer on him, and though he remembered putting them on, he couldn't quite get himself to believe that it really happened. He had walked to the other room and opened the door expecting to have the statue alive once more but what he found made him question the reality of the day before. The wicker table and chairs were gone and the statue once again sat in the white wing chair holding the paper before him.

Steven was going crazy! He questioned everything, his life. Had he really had one? He couldn't remember, it seemed all a blur now, like some wishful thought, a dreamed reality. This world was the only one he knew now and it filled him so much it must have been the only one he had. The white walls, white ceiling, white floor, was there another colour? Even the yellow kerchief was gone, "If it even existed!" he told himself.

Though he vowed not to, Steven walked to the ladder in the floor and looked down. Nothing seemed different, but still he found his feet on the rungs and he descended. The hallway was the same as well as the room, the mattress still filled the room wall to wall but nothing else was different. Steven sat on the mattress for a while before shaking his head and climbing back up the ladder.

"Come to me Steven," a voice floated through the room, "come back to me." it seemed to whisper.

Steven stopped suddenly, straining to hear, hoping to hear, fearing it was only his mind.

"Please Steven, I need you," the voice whispered again.

"Hello," he called back, "Can you hear me?" The voice didn't answer his question but it didn't go away either. Instead it whispered, "I love you Steven, why won't you come back."

"I will, I will come back, show me, how do I get out of here?" he yelled as he ran through the two rooms looking for the source of the voice. "I'm here, I'm here, help me please, help me find you!"

"Do you remember Steven, do you remember the day in the rain, how we danced in the rain? That was the day I knew! The day I knew I loved you. It was that day that I decided I would marry you, though you didn't ask until a year later, I knew that day! We were so silly, so childish, the way the rain ran down your face and collected on your upper lip. Do you remember Steven, do you remember that day?"

Steven didn't, "Why don't I," he asked himself. He also wondered if the voice was miss Anderson's voice he heard. Maybe he wasn't Steven, maybe this voice wasn't meant for him. "I'm here," he yelled again, "I'm here, tell me where to go, I want to come to you!"

The voice didn't answer and slowly it disappeared completely, and he heard it no more. "No," he screamed, "don't go, don't leave me alone again, I don't want to be alone!" Sobbing now, Steven continued to yell as he ran along the walls searching for anything that would explain where the voice had come from. "Please come back, please come back, please come back." His voice was raw when he finally stopped, the voice wasn't coming back and he was left alone once more.

## Days

Days had gone by, Steven was sure of it, days since the statue came alive, days since the yellow kerchief, days since the voice. How did he know? He wasn't sure, he had lost count of how many times he slept, it didn't matter though, he had nothing to base a day on. The rooms never changed, the lighting was always the same, the temperature never varied, he was never hungry. He had nothing to determine the passage of time, only his sleep and that was a bad indicator at that.

The couch was indented from his body, and though a mattress lay on the level below, he kept his vow of not going back there. "Why?" He couldn't explain, it was almost as if he grew out of it, no longer belonged there on the lower level, he was above it now, and here he would stay. It had been a long time also since he looked in on the statue, which was another thing he would not do, so here he sat on his couch staring at his white walls.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," he counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," and then laughing, "Eleven!" Over and over he counted, he counted his eyes, his legs, his hands, his arms. He never knew before, that from his elbow to his wrist on his left arm for instance, that he had forty-six freckles, on his right only thirty-one. He counted the number of times he crossed the room, with a normal step it took him between twenty-two and twenty-four. He counted whatever he could to pass the time, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

The days continued from sleep to sleep, never varying, never changing until that day! He woke as normal, and looked out the window on the wall across from the couch.

## Window

"Window," he spoke out loud. "I see a window!" slowly he climbed to his feet and looked at the glass and frame before him. Looking around the room he looked for another change but found none. Turning back, he stared at the window almost daring it to disappear from sight. He took one step then another, slowly, cautiously, and before he knew it he reached out and touched the glass to reassure himself that it in fact was real. It was! He tried to lookout the window but all he saw was greyness, almost as if a fog lay just beyond blocking everything else from view. No matter which way he looked, nothing but the greyness came into sight.

"But at least its real!" he spoke quickly, excitedly. "It is real!" and he ran his hand along the frame feeling the grainy texture of the white wood. That in itself was remarkable to Steven, it never had the same smooth finish the walls, floor, or roof had, it felt different, grittier! The glass felt like glass beneath his hands and it was cooler! Cooler than the walls and it brought him hope!

"Maybe it actually looks outside!" he spoke joyously, "Even though I can not see what is beyond, there must at least be away out of here!" He examined the window, looking at it carefully. Cautiously he brought his hands back, and then with one swift motion brought, them against the window, hoping to break it! The glass shook and groaned slightly but next to that it looked as if nothing happened to it. Again he swung, his hands closed, and once more he solidly struck the glass, hoping to see a crack! "Nothing!" he shook his head in wonderment, "Nothing happened!"

Steven looked around the empty room, looking for something he could use to strike the glass, but all he could see was the couch and that he knew he couldn't lift to use. He looked across the room at the door he vowed not to enter again. Shaking his head in disgust he walked the short distance and opened the door. Everything was the same in the small room as it was when he last was in it. The statue still sat in the white wing chair, the stone-carved paper still held up before him. Next to the statue and chair nothing else was visible to help him with the window.

Steven walked to the statue and looked at it. The thinnest piece of carving seemed to be the paper and Steven questioned himself if he could break it. "There's only one way to find out," he told himself as he grabbed the top of the stone paper. Using all his strength he pushed on the edge hoping to snap some of it off. "Aghhh," he yelled as he pushed, his arms shook from exertion and his wrists ached, but still the statue remained whole. "Give me some help!" he pleaded as he looked to the ceiling of the room, "Please, just a little piece, to help!" With his back strainingand his legs braced slightly apart, he pushed all of his weight against the statue. "Damn it!" he screamed as he released his grip and stood back. "Damn it all!" He fell to the floor and laid in the fetal position his arms pulling his knees to his chest. "Why do you taunt me! Why, why must you keep me in this place only to taunt me!" he whispered into his chest and the tears began to flow freely from his eyes.

He didn't know how long he laid like that, but his body seemed to ache and groan as he pulled himself up the statue to stand. He looked once at the statue before turning, and walking from the room slamming the door behind him as he exited. The window seemed to laugh at him as he walked back into the room. It looked to him almost like a big opened mouth grin, and he was sure that it laughed at his futileness. "Damn you!" he yelled at the window. With a quick jump he ran and with about two feet from the window he launched himself into the air, his shoulder he braced, as he crashed it into the window, "Crack damn it! Crack!" He yelled as he took the brunt of the impact on his shoulder, hoping to hear the window crack beneath his onslaught! The window still remained intact as the blow forced him to crumple on the floor. He rolled in pain as his shoulder felt like he dislocated it. "No, no, no, no, no, no," he sobbed quietly, "please, no more, you win."

No answer came to his pleading.

## Miranda

Steven didn't know when he fell asleep, but sleep he did before the window, on the floor.

"Steven," he heard a voice ask, startling him awake. "Steven, can you hear me hun?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I can," he moaned as his shoulder screamed in pain as he forced himself up from the floor.

"I love you Steven, I love you."

"I love you to Miranda," Steven spoke out. "Miranda!" he spoke aloud again, "Miranda! I know who you are, you're Miranda, my fiancée, I hear you, I hear you!" he yelled excitedly.

"Steven?" Miranda seemed to ask questioningly, "Steven, can you hear me!"

"Yes Miranda, yes I can, I'm here!"

"Steven, Steven you moved! Steven can you hear me, Nurse, Nurse!" she yelled. "Steven, hold onto my voice, don't let it go Steven, don't let it go, I love you hun, come back to me."

"Miranda, I hear you, where are you?" he asked as he searched the room for her, "Where are you my dear, why do you hide? Where are you?"

"Steven, don't let go, don't let go Steven, come to me, Nurse, Nurse," she seemed to yell! "Nurse he's here I can feel it!"

"Miranda, where are you dear, where are you, why do you call for a nurse, I'm here call for me." Steven was running frantically now, the pain in his shoulder long forgotten. He stopped at the window stared out looking for something, anything. "Miranda! Where are you?"

"Steven, " he heard again, "Steven, Steven, Steven," the voice was getting quieter as if getting further away, "Steven, hold on, hold on Stev.....en," it finally slipped away and he heard her no more.

"NO!" he screamed as he fell to the floor again, "No Miranda, please don't go, I don't want to be alone anymore, "I don't want to be alone! Please let me go home, let me go home, I'll promise to be good, I promise." His body wracked in pain, but not from his shoulder, from his heart, oh how it ached, it screamed in pain as he sobbed.

Steven remembered her, he remembered his fiancée, he remembered her greyish green eyes, her beautiful red lips, he remembered everything. Her full breasts, her flat stomach, her shapely legs, it all rushed back to him. He remembered her touch, her laugh, the way she would run her hands through her hair when she was nervous. He couldn't forget it now even if he wanted to, though now that he had it back, he would never relinquish it! Her smile and the way her eyes danced when she looked at him, that smile was only for him, he had never seen her give it to anyone else, it was his and he remembered!

Steven remembered the day in the rain! He remembered how they had gone walking, out around the point, the late day sun was sinking and clouds slowly rolled in. They didn't care though, they were hand in hand, laughing, cuddling as they walked. He couldn't remember how long they had sat on the bench they found. It was in a clearing overlooking the lake and they had watched the rain roll in across the lake. He remembered trying to pull her up from the bench as the rain fell around them, soaking them, but she wouldn't let him, and pulled him back to the bench.

"No Steven, lets stay," and her lips had brushed his, her tongue darting in after and licking the rain that had collected on his lips. He had sat back down and she pulled herself close, her arms tightly wrapped around his forearm. He remembered they sat there for what seemed like an eternity, but an eternity of bliss. She got up and pulled him to his feet. "Dance with me Steven, dance with me in the rain."

He had shook his head no, "I can't dance, I don't know how!"

"Oh, come on, no one will see, its only you and I here." She pulled him to his feet and then wrapped her arms around his neck, "Dance with me," she said as she kissed him. They had danced, he didn't know where the music came from, if it was just in his head, or they collectively created it, but he heard, and he knew she had as well. They danced and danced, their bodies close together, warming each other in the cool late day rain. He held tight to her, her head lay on his shoulder and they moved with a grace he never expected from himself.

He remembered! He also remembered that that was the day he fell in love. "Miranda," he whispered, "Please come back."

## Colour

"Miranda," he whispered as he woke. He knew she wasn't there, questioned if even had heard her voice the day before. He didn't know. He hated this place, hated even more this morning than any other time before, hated that he was trapped here made to endure the whiteness, the silence except for those time his mind played with him. For that's what it had to be, his mind playing, because Miranda would not do such a cruel trick to him.

Light spilled into the room! Light from the window, causing shadows to fall across the walls. His mouth agape, Steven climbed from the couch and crossed to the window, and sure enough saw the sun in the sky. And there were trees! Beautiful green trees, and grass! He could see the blackness amongst the trees where the shadows fell, where the sun failed to reach, he saw it and he felt alive!

"It looks real!" he said almost surprised, as he traced his finger across the glass hoping to feel the trees themselves. "Look at the colour! Look at the blue sky, the green trees, the green grass, look, look!" He could feel the heat from the sun through the window as it beat down beautifully from above. He saw it and relished it. The room around him, the rooms below and behind him, forgotten as he leaned against the window and looked at the outside world.

He took it all in, let it soak through his eyes his body, feeling the colours with every sense he could. He stayed at the window afraid to move, afraid that if he did, like the man in the other room it would once more become a grey fog. He didn't want that to happen so he never left the window, never let his eyes leave the scenery beyond. He would not have it slip away from him, he would hold on, would not let go. His legs ached and his muscles stiffened in his back, but still he did not leave his post, he was glad to have it no matter what the discomfort it cost him.

Hours passed, he could tell by the suns path across the sky, he saw it, he saw the slow pacing of the sun and he grinned. He had never felt such elation with a day as he felt right now. He enjoyed every moment he spent at the window. The sun slowly disappeared and he watched the pinks and purples fill the sky as the sun slowly passed behind the trees before darkness fell. Still he did not move, and he watched the moon creep into the sky. His body was tired now and his eyes felt heavy, and with great pain he pulled himself from the window and back to the couch. He was asleep in moments but his heart felt lighter.

## People

Miranda filled his dreams, as the sun and trees filled his day. In his dream, Miranda and him walked beneath the trees, danced beneath the trees. He felt disappointed when he finally woke, and she was left behind.

The window was still there, and he could still see the sunlight streaming in. With a smile he went to the window and looked out again. The trees were the same, the grass was the same, the only difference was where the day before it was sunny with blue skies, clouds partially covered the blue today. He didn't care; he enjoyed the view nonetheless, actually excited by the clouds themselves, puffy and ominous as they slowly moved in the sky above.

Movement took his eyes from the sky and back to the trees! He was sure he had saw movement! There it was again, a blur almost among the trees, a blur of yellow, he was sure of it. He watched looking for it again, when a ball bounced from the trees. It was yellow in colour and he watched as it rolled to a stop. A child of about seven ran out from the trees and picked it up. He looked up, and as if he saw Steven watching, waved and then ran back into the trees.

Steven was shocked, he couldn't move, the little boy had seen him and had waved! "Come back!" he yelled at the window hoping the boy would hear. "Come back!" He saw more people now, just within the trees walking as if on a pathway. They crossed under the canopy within the shadows and the ones that looked up, waved at him, smiling but none stopped.

Steven banged on the window with his fists, "Come here!" he yelled, "Let me out!" But no one came, they seemed oblivious to his confinement, they just smiled and waved. The day continued and people came and went, as the sun crossed the sky and all Steven could do was watch. Watch the people, he could almost hear their laughter, their joy as they walked, oh how he yearned to share it with them. Darkness came, and he no longer saw anybody and he was left to the darkness of the night, and the light of the room. He went to the couch and closed his eyes and slept.

## Red Door

Steven woke, and right away walked to the window intent on getting someone's attention today. The sun was bright and no clouds filled the sky today as he looked out. Already he could see people walking along the path, though none looked his way. He didn't bang on the window unsure on what he should do. A woman walked out of the trees, she looked familiar to him and she waved. She smiled and waved as he waved back. She stood there peacefully, beautifully, and stared, she didn't go back into the trees like the people yesterday had.

"Come here," he saw her mouth, though he could not hear her. "Come here," he read again and she waved him over.

Steven shook his head and banged on the window as if to show the woman he couldn't. She laughed and shook her head.

"Come here," he could almost hear her say, as she waved him to her again. Steven felt trapped; pained that she could not see he was trapped in here. He shrugged and banged on the window towards the woman, "I can't!" he yelled at the window, "I can't!"

The woman smiled and her hands went to the front of her blouse. Steven watched as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. When it was completely undone she pulled it off and dropped it to the grass before her. She stood in just her bra and pants and again, she waved him over. Steven was going nuts to see this familiar woman half undressed before him, and not being able to get to her.

Again the woman smiled and she bent over and pulled her pants down, when she stood back up she was only in her panties and bra, and she laughed. She waved to him again, "Come to me Steven," he heard Miranda's whisper, "Come to me."

"Please Miranda, show me how," he whispered at the glass as he looked at Miranda on the grass, so close but yet so far away.

"I love you Steven," she whispered, "Come back to me now."

"How Miranda, how?"

"The door silly, use the door," and she motioned off to her right.

Steven backed away from the window and looked around the room. To his left was a door. A red door! He did he not see it when he first awoke! He could not answer how it got there, but there it was. He looked back out the window and saw Miranda smiling. "Come to me Steven," she spoke and then waved, "Come to me."

Steven slowly walked to the red door, his hand reached out and he gently grasped the knob. With one last look at the white room around him, he smiled and turned the knob, pushing the red door open, and walked into the blinding light beyond.

He could hear a woman sobbing, and he felt tired, drained. He lay on a bed and he could tell it was a hospital room he lay in. Slowly, with great effort he turned towards the woman who was holding his hand crying softly, and with her eyes closed.

"I heard you Miranda," he whispered hoarsely, "And I came."

Miranda opened her eyes and looked down at Steven and saw his weary smile, "you came back to me," she whispered before brushing his lips with hers.

The End

# Chapter 2: I Had a Dream

I had a dream...

I dreamt that I walked into your bedroom. I felt like an intruder as I looked upon your calm sleeping form. How I yearned to touch you but feared having you wake. Instead, I sat down at the foot of your bed and quietly watched you. I watched as your chest gently rose and fell with every breath, and your lips slightly opened on exhale looking delicate, pretty. One strand of hair crept across your forehead and lay on your cheek and I was enthralled! I couldn't take my eyes off you, for fear that in the instant I turned away, you would move and I would miss it! How I wanted to crawl up onto your bed, envelope you in my arms, and feel you snuggle into my chest. But I couldn't for I was an intruder!

You moaned softly, and your feet kicked at your bedding as you shifted positions. I saw, and I wondered, were you thinking of me? Were you running from me, or maybe to me? Was that why you kicked at your blanket, or was I not in your dream at all? Your scent filled the room and my senses, as much as the vision of you, and I felt lost. Lost in your world, not sure why I should be privileged enough to see you this way, so fragile, so peaceful, so beautiful. Oh how I wanted to brush the strand of hair from your face, touch your cheek, your lips. But I didn't because I was an intruder!

I don't know when I left the dream, your room, but when I woke, I felt empty, alone. I felt that I was so close to realizing my dreams, only to have them snatched away again. I found myself weeping! In joy for what I had seen, or in pain for what I left behind? I didn't know, and wept anyway.

I closed my eyes hoping to find your room once more, but also dreading it! Because I shouldn't see what I saw, for I, was an intruder!

# Chapter 3: Beauty in the Breakdown

She says she fine

Her heads on straight

She knows where she's going

She doesn't realize

I see the cracks

Hidden under the surface

She pretends her smile

Though her eyes deceive

Her body speaks the truth

I see the pain hidden there

I see the glaring truth

Beauty in the breakdown

It's what I see when I look at her

The bloods already spilt

Her body's waiting for the hurt

Beauty in the breakdown

Tears on the floor

She has finally lost the battle

Doesn't want to go on anymore

Yesterday's dreams

They have not passed

Work is only a chore

She doesn't know

Where she's going

She has no more open doors

This is not the path she envisioned

When she was young growing old

There was no pain of failure

Only glorious made roads

Beauty in the breakdown

It's what I see when I look at her

The bloods already spilt

Her body's waiting for the hurt

Beauty in the breakdown

Tears on the floor

She has finally lost the battle

Doesn't want to go on anymore

How does she carry on

Living her life a lie

Pretending every day

That everything is good

That everything is fine

Though everything is just pain

She's very close to the end

Cannot go on no more

She wants it all just to stop

To close her eyes one night

And not wake up on the morrow

Beauty in the breakdown

It's what I see when I look at her

The bloods already spilt

Her body's waiting for the hurt

Beauty in the breakdown

Tears on the floor

She has finally lost the battle

Doesn't want to go on anymore

# Chapter 4: The Woman

He was dressed casually, but carried a single red rose in one hand, he kept pausing and talked to himself, as if contemplating the task before him. He would start across the expanse of grass then stop, and talk to himself once more, only to start walking and then stop, and complete the ritual again. Finally his head held in determination and his jaw held tight, he crossed the manicured grass and sat on the bench.

"Hello," he spoke, "I've meant to come to talk to you for awhile, I'm sorry it took so long," as he spoke he played with the stem of the rose now on his lap. "I would like to speak, say what's on my mind, my heart." He looked up as he said the last looking for agreement, with a nod of his head he continued.

"I've been dreaming of you recently, I don't know what started it! I don't know if being up at the lake brought it all back, but it probably did. Do you remember when we were kids, and our families spent holidays together up there? The beautiful days, the warm lake water, the clear evenings spent walking on the path around the point, us hand in hand, grinning at one another, your brother and sister always in tow." He laughed quietly lost in the thoughts of the past, "I miss that!"

A bird called its lonely call as it crossed overhead and he watched it pass before returning to look at her. "I remember when you decided to go to a different school, I was sad that I wouldn't finally get to see you every day, but that's how things went. I did remember watching you when your school came to ours to play volleyball. I was entranced watching you play and was lost in your vision, my focus not on the game, but on you! I always loved watching you at play, you always seemed to excel at what ever you tried, be it water skiing, soccer, hockey, you were good at them all." Again, the rose stem was played with in his hands and he held the rose to his nose briefly taking in its scent, his eyes closed. "I remember our first kiss! Your mother bringing you to work with her so we could spend time together. Us walking all day, following the creek to the beaver dams, finding a log to sit on above the snaking of the water and the dams below us. I was so nervous, but I remember it as if it were yesterday!" Shaking his head, "I know, I know that's pathetic, thinking of an event that happened twenty years ago, but that was the beginning for me."

He got up, his back to her, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come you don't need to hear this its been so long." Again he turned back to her, "I need to tell you this though, for me, I'm sorry if this hurts you, its something I need to do! Can you understand that? I know nothing can happen but I think it needs to be out there."

He walked now, almost pacing as he spoke. "Do you remember when I began visiting you when you lived in the house just up behind ours? I had so many hopes there, I know I never said so, but that was the best part of my days. I would be at college all day, and then I looked forward to the drive home, anticipating the double beat of my heart whenever I first saw you. We would talk for hours, and oh, how I wanted to take you in my arms, hold you, kiss you. After that time we never saw each other again, at least until now. Why didn't we continue? I don't know, maybe I feared you rejecting me, maybe I feared you accepting me! That was what I always wanted, but our lives moved forward, different, me starting a family, thinking I found love, and you, well, you went your way and now here we are."

He sat back down on the bench his head down tears forming in his eyes. "Would it have made a difference if I told you, would we be here today? I don't know, who can say, but I'm here now, single but late!" Tears streamed down his face freely now, "When they told me, a part of me died! I want you to know that because what you need to understand is this, I loved you! All my heart was yours and had been since that first kiss, back then I never saw a future without you in it. You were my world and I never told you! I was a scared boy, scared young man, afraid of the outcome! But I should have told you," he sobbed. "I should have told you! Would we have taken different paths? Who knows, I would like to think so, but also afraid that it would have. It means I could have stopped you from taking your own life!"

He fell to his knees, the rose dropping beside him, his head in his hands. Sobs choked up his throat and he cried for her, cried like he wanted to when he was first told of her death, his body shook with each sob and his shoulders quivered in pain in hate, for not telling her. Time passed, and the sky started to deepen in blue as the sun sank lower. Finally, he composed himself and he picked up the rose from the ground, turning he looked at the tombstone, read the words across its face, his eyes followed the ground where she lay. Once more he went to his knees, this time beside her, he placed the rose on the ground above her. His hand stayed on the ground as if feeling her and he stayed that way for a time, "I'm sorry," he whispered before getting up and walking away from her, across the expanse of finely manicured grass, and out of the graveyard not stopping to look back. He wasn't sure if it did anything to relieve his or her pain, but he was glad he finally told her, though it be to late.

# Chapter 5: I Hear

I hear him on the street

I hear him at the store

I hear him whisper quietly

I hear him at my door

His voice is very raspy

His tongue forms my name

His eyes are searching for me

His body speaks no game

I know it's almost up

I know I have no hope

I know he's finally come for me

I don't know how to cope

My time here is done

My body is so frail

My mind has accepted

My body's finally failed

I am not afraid

I do not run in fear

I know its time to go

I will not shed a tear

# Chapter 6: Filling Me

I woke this morning and though I knew you went home the evening before, I still reached out for you next to me in my bed. I only managed to find open sheets, but if I tried hard enough I was almost sure I could smell you, feel your presence there beside me. I lay staring at my ceiling and wondered what it was you were doing right at that moment, and I wondered if you missed me as much as I missed you. Was I in your thoughts just then, could you feel me, sense me as I did you? I hoped so!

I couldn't wait, and reached for the phone to call you, you were the first voice I wanted to hear. When you answered my heart smiled. A big open smile, and I realized in that moment, if you left there would be a big space in my heart, which I think I would never again be able to fill. This is how you fill me, you fill me with love, with kindness, with hopes and dreams, you fill me.

Today will be too long! Too long for me to go without getting to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you in my arms, and to sing into your ear how much I love you. I already want this day to end so maybe I can see you tomorrow, for my heart and my head, and my very being, bleeds for you.

Have fun today, but hurry home so I can hear you again, for I shall not sleep without your voice in my head, filling me up!

# Chapter 7: I Love

I love your eyes

The way that they smile

I love the way you move

When you walk across the room

I love your arms

When you wrap them around me

I love your words

When you speak them to me

I love your kiss

The way you let them linger

I love your heart

I can feel it next to mine

I love our time

Don't want it to end

I love your embrace

Feel it through the night

I love

# Chapter 8: Smile

It's 12:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. My head is filled with you, and I cannot stop it, and doubt I would want to if I could. I wonder if you are also awake at this very moment, and thinking of me. What have I gotten myself into that I live and breathe you, I cannot stand it when I watch you drive away and I call you so I can hear your voice though we just finished talking minutes before? I know what this is, it is love; True passionate not wanting it to end love!

When you lay beside me in my arms, I relish the feel of your body against mine, and I could hold you that way until the morning sun arises. The smell of your hair, the touch of your skin, courses through my body, and when I close my eyes you are there still; only when I open them do I feel the disappointment and loss of you not being in my arms.

I know where you are, I know what you are doing and though I may not completely understand, I know you need to know. Look for your answers my love, seek what you need, and know this, my arms are always waiting for you, to take you inside my grasp, to love you, hold you, never let go of you. You are my drug, my essence of life, my great passion waiting to be fulfilled, my reason for being me, and I do not want to lose you.

If I could, I would take you away and not share you with any other, and let our love free to bloom as it may, as it should, without restraint or guilt. Hold me in your heart, for you are in mine, see me when you close your eyes, for I see you. Hear my name on the passing wind, for I hear yours, sing your song for me, for I sing mine for you. Love me, like I love you; want me, like I want you; hold me, like I hold you; see me, as I see you, and lastly know, that I don't freely give my heart, but you have mine, and there is no one whom I would rather have it, than you.

So smile when you wake and read this, for I am smiling as I write it, and I go to bed knowing my love will be there in the morning, looking for you.

# Chapter 9: Dreams

Did you dream of me

I always dream of you

Was I touching you

Was I kissing you

Was I holding you in my arms

In my dreams I am always

Touching

Kissing

Holding you

I dream of our sharing

Of each other

Minds and bodies

Of the walks in the evening

Which spring will bring

Along with the flowers you love so

Evenings full of stars

And lush kisses.

Evenings of hopes and ideas

And bodies entwined

I envision so much

With you at my side

I can't wait for the reality

So the dream can become real

Let's wake up now

And begin our journey

Hand in hand

Our dreams alive

# Chapter 10: Depression

Sorrow fills me to the core, happiness a distant memory.

Though must have once been, for my body aches for the lost sensation.

Cravings for earlier days try to invade, but the key to my misery remains hidden.

Why can I not breach the surface of my drowning depression?

My life is a trial, that which I feel I cannot succeed, and question why I try.

Others laugh and smile around me, I feel removed from their humor, their cheer.

The old year closes, the New Year awaits, but still I look upon it in fear of the same.

For I see no difference to change the way of my future, and I despair.

My children ease my heart, but the days away seem to be slowly stealing my energy.

I grasp for better days, but my hands come back empty, not knowing where to look.

I fear the day they realize I am nothing, just as others see me.

For then I will truly know completely, the loneliness and sadness that fills me, on my off days.

# Chapter 11: Always and for Today

I feel my pain at your leaving

My heart it is breaking

My life feels so empty

Now that you are gone

I carry on through the haze

Though I see no tomorrow

Just the same as today

I wonder how to go on

Memories of you crowd my head

Though the pain is still there

I felt your love

And my heart still smiles

You are my soul

My mate for eternity

Though we live separate

You always have my love

Tomorrow I shall smile

When I think about you

For how could I not

When you were my gift

Be happy where you are

Shine through the murk

Let your troubles wash away

For I walk beside you

Know that I'm here

A simple word away

Caring for your happiness

Always and for today

# Chapter 12: Three Simple Words

Three simple words to say, but so powerful and heavy once said. They can open a whole other door, one that was closed previously to you but has privileges and experiences beyond your imagining! I love you! Who would have guessed that those three words held such power? Power to cause swooning, weak knees, body quivering, words that fill the heart, no the very core, of our body with wonder, happiness, joy.

Three simple words that bind people together in ways that others who haven't had such feelings could ever understand. I love you! With it comes the whole of each other, our good, our bad, our weakness, those words are acceptance of it all, and it draws us closer. They can be said in near whisper to cause the pleasant shiver through out the body, or in a shout for all to hear and wish they were said to them with such abandon.

Three simple words to say, but with so much meaning, I love you, I Love you, I Love You. Powerful words, meaningful words, strong words. Words I am very glad to have spoken to you, and shall never wish to call back. I love you. You have my heart in your hands, keep it tender, keep it safe, for though the three simple words make it stronger, it is still a fragile thing.

# Chapter 13: I love you!

You are my Love

This is for you my love, my feelings on this page

You have taken me to places I have not expected to go

Given me something I had not hoped to have.

You are my inspirations, my admirations

You are my love.

You can do no wrong to me

In fact you make me a better me

I feel whole with you, never wanting, you give me all

More than I ever expected

You are my love.

Your eyes light when you look at me

My heart melts when I see

Your touch ignites me

Your arms surround me

You are my love.

Time stands still when I am with you

Then rushes forward when I'm not

You fill my days with happiness

You fill my head with wonderful thoughts

You are my love.

With the age to come

I dream of us always

I see our future together

And it is exciting because

You are my love.

# Chapter 14: Carry On

And yesterday has come and gone.

And tomorrow looms just beyond.

And the path I walk, it feels very long.

Will it never end, can I carry on.

It's been so hard, harder than I ever thought.

But now I'm here past, the battles I have fought.

And I see the sun, breaking through the clouds.

Showing me a brand new day, one that I've never done.

I can truly say, I have lost and I have won.

I've had some terrible days and some incredible ones.

But no matter where I've been, I've always managed to carry on.

Maybe it was just a dream but I swear I felt you holding on.

You're my guiding light, my beacon in the dark.

You helped me when I despaired, when I felt like giving up.

You were always there, taking most of my brunt.

You tried to stay so strong, you helped me carry on.

So we move along but now we're hand in hand.

With the two of us, we're so damn strong.

Nothing can stand before us, or slow us down.

We'll carry on, our love will help us out.

# Chapter 15: Letters from the Heart

## Letters from the Heart: September 6, 2003

I had never met you before, you were just a picture on a screen, a voice on the phone, but oh how you intrigued me!

Your voice stirred me, excited me, drew me in! I spent many nights talking with you, listening to your raw purring sexy voice, frustrated without release, hoping to one day meet you.

Evenings before sleep were spent in bed with you, but the distance between I could not say; only a hand receiver separated us. If I could have touched you I would have! My dreams were filled with a woman I didn't know, what have you done to me?

When are we going to meet?

## Letters from the Heart: September 13, 2003

We went out tonight; I finally got to meet you. Were my expectations met? No, and then you exceeded them, I know no other way to say it. You were pretty, but it was your attitude, the way you held yourself, the strength you exuded, that is what drew me to you.

We talked and looked at one another, I found myself swimming within your gaze, found myself drowning, lost without a life jacket to keep me at the surface. Your touch was electric and a shiver would course through my body. When the movie started, I was sad that we could no longer talk, and instead of the screen before us, I felt myself focused on the woman beside me!

When the movie ended we talked a short time longer as we walked to your car, I didn't want it to end, though I knew it needed to, I had hoped you felt the same way! It wasn't until later when I talked to you on the phone before sleep, did I know you too, did not want it to end.

My sleep was wonderful and yet also uncomfortable as you filled my dreams. When can I see you again?

## Letters from the Heart: September 21, 2003

I liked you spending the day with me today, it was wonderful. I liked that your hand always found mine when we walked, and your eyes danced when you looked at me, how your simple smile would make me melt!

When you left my heart gave a little, I didn't want you to go and though I'm just starting to get to know you, I think I don't ever want you to go.

I loved that you called when you got home and we talked for another hour or two, how long I don't know, the time seemed but an instant; not nearly long enough! I need to ask what you've done to me to make me feel this way? It's been along time since I felt like this and you came out of nowhere, blindsided me.

When the phone was finally hung up I felt as if I was hit by a truck, my body ached so! Is this how it's always going to be? If so, I'm unsure how long I can last, being unconditioned as I am with matters of the heart!

Yet as I write this I ask myself eagerly, "When will she see you again?" Know this though; I go to bed with you here with me, for since meeting you, you are never far from my thoughts.

## Letters from the Heart: September 28, 2003

I woke this morning excited and uncomfortable, bursting, with you in my thoughts and I wonder if I will ever get to wake up and find you laying, sleeping, easily beside me. I hated the day before it even started, knowing that today I would neither get to see you or hear you, the first since we've met. Why did you have to go away? Do you know that you have my heartstrings in your hand, and when you left you stretched them to the limit, so much so, I'm afraid that they might break!

My day was spent lost, I felt as if I had no purpose today and instead found myself dreaming of being in your arms, feeling your lips, oh how I ached and hated you being away, why should it hurt so... so much?

I feel so fragile, so brittle with you not here with me, hurry back, hurry back my heart can only be made strong with your presence, your touch, your kiss!

Hurry back please.

## Letters from the Heart: October 3, 2003

Yesterday was your birthday. Yesterday we finally came together, I feel weak just thinking about it. It was all and more than I had hoped it to be. You looked gorgeous when I picked you up, and when you met me at the door I could hardly wait to take you in my arms and kiss you, you made my legs quiver just looking at you.

Our meal at the restaurant couldn't have been better, great wine, great food, beautiful company. I was glad that you couldn't see under the table, I was hard all night and couldn't wait for the meal to end so I could just have you in my arms once more. The cheque came and we seemed to fly out of there or at least to me we did, and when I opened the car door for you and you kissed me then ran your hands through my hair! Well, I thought if I died right then and there it would be in bliss, yes with love in my heart!

Love, is it to early for love, I don't know?

I don't remember the drive back to your place, your hand on my knee made it a blur and I was sure by then you knew the condition I was in. I loved how we spilled through the door of your bedroom, bodies entwined lips locked, eyes ablaze. I wanted to tear your clothes off but allowed you to slowly dance out of them, showing me your body for the first time. I drank you in, your scent, your vision, god I wanted you, and feared when you started to undress me that I would be done before we started!

The evening was incredible, sensual, passionate, it seemed to last forever, and as I write this I can still taste you, smell you, feel you and wish I could be there with you again right now. Your very touch was electric and I hope I pleased you as well as you pleased me.

For my earlier question, love? If love is a fever then I'm lost, for my body burns for you, my heart double beats and is beyond my control, and I find it hard to breathe, if this is love, then I truly am lost within its heavy grasp. I have a disease with which I care for no cure, and its name is Meagan and I wish to be lost to it entirely!

## Letters from the Heart: October 10, 2003

I felt so selfish today. You called with tears in your voice, waking me from my sleep as you sobbed quietly into the phone. You went to the doctor today and he told you the news, what he found, I'm sorry. After talking to you I found myself laying in my bed wondering if this is what I want, if I could cope with this in my life, if I chose to stay would I be able to handle it?

I need to tell you that I fought with it for hours; cancer was always just a word to me, nothing more. It had no impact on my life up until now, it was something I had no worries or fears about, it had no place in my life. Now its there! Big as life itself, and I don't know what to do? Have I come to a decision? I don't know, I do know that I can't just let you fall from my life; will I be able to handle it with you? Again I can't answer that, my heart aches for you and all I want to do is hold you, let you shake against my chest, let your tears soak into my hair.

I want you Meagan, I need you and I will try to be there for as long as you want me. I found myself reaching for the phone and calling work, it's the last place I want to be today, and I think it best that I not be there, for my mind will be clouded and unsafe. Instead I will call you and tell you to come here so I can hold you.

Don't cry Meagan let me take your sorrow away.

## Letters from the Heart: October 11, 2003

Though I see you no more on this day, your presence still lingers!

You filled my evening with joy, with pleasure and alas with sadness, but I would not have had it any other way. You shared your life, your spirit, and to a lesser extent your body with me, and in the end you filled me, to my core, to my very existence, with your beauty, your mind, your heart, I miss you already.

Though my bed may now be empty of you, I can still feel you there, smell you there and it makes me ache, it makes me yearn for your return. I look forward to you in my arms once more, your head on my chest, your lips on my lips and your gaze in my gaze. I wish to have your presence fill my very being once again.

So in the end, I find myself waiting, no hoping for your swift return.

## Letters from the Heart: October 18, 2003

Since the other night we don't talk about it, we don't say the C-word, I won't bring it up and I think you're afraid to. You're waiting, no, we're waiting for more tests, so they can determine the extent of damage and the best way to proceed, it scares me, so you must be absolutely petrified!

I've decided to stay though, I don't know what that means to you but I've decided I don't want you to not be in my life, and I'm willing to go down this path with you. I've also decided to ignore your words from the other night; I know you didn't want to start a relationship this way but you can't always choose in matters of the heart. It chooses for us! I will be your strength, your wall, I will hold you, comfort you. I will kiss away the tears and hold you to my chest; I'm going to stay.

Don't expect to change my mind; though our future may not be decided and may actually lie in haze, I am willing to go into the unknown with you. I only hope I can be of strength for you, your pillar of hope. So bring what may, together we can stand and take on anything.

## Letters from the Heart: October 28, 2003

Though we pretend everything is all right, it lays heavy in both of our minds and hearts. The waiting is the hardest part and even though you are afraid of what the results may turn up, I can tell you can't wait, and just want to know. The uncertainty of the situation is the most difficult part for you, for me.

You broke last night, your body shook and quivered and the tears flowed freely and all I could do was hold you. This is hard for me and I feel so helpless not being able to take the worry away, I don't know if I can handle this, and this is only the waiting! What will I do if the news comes back as the worst? Please tell me what you want, what you need for me to do because I'm lost. Is being here, Is that enough from me, does my simple presence help at all? I hope so because I have nothing else to give, to offer. I feel so helpless!

So I lay in bed writing this and I feel as if I'm being pulled in different directions, I care so much for you right now and want to just hold you. Then on the other hand I'm frightened, I'm so afraid of what might happen. Could my heart take it if we actually fall in love only to have this disease take you away, would it be easier to say goodbye now? But could my heart take that as well? I don't know if I'm in love, don't know if you're in love but I crave you, I can't seem to go three hours without hearing your voice, so how could I say goodbye.

So where am I? I'm still by your side and though my fear is great, my feelings override the trepidation I feel.

## Letters from the Heart: November 5, 2003

You went to the doctor today and I'm left waiting for the news. I offered to go with you but you told me, "No. I don't know if I could handle you there with me!" So I'm left waiting to hear from you.

My day goes painfully slow and my emotions run wild, not sure of how I will react to the outcome. I can't sit still but yet find myself tiring from my endless pacing, why would you not want me there? Is this your way of releasing me from this burden? What if I don't wish to be released, what if I wish to be your strength? What if I can't be?

My head hurts and the day slowly darkens and yet I have heard nothing! Meagan why haven't you called, what is going on?

## Letters from the Heart: November 6th, 2003

You never called last night and I couldn't take it anymore, I called you. You never picked up, I hated you so much at the moment, I almost decided there and then to leave it all! You, my happiness, all of it out the window. I fumed for what seemed like hours to me before deciding, "Fuck this!"

The drive to your place flew by and I knew pulling up you were home. Your car was in your parking spot and your lights were on. I still fumed as I walked to your door and rang. My heart was still angry when your sobbing voice reached me from within. "Yes," you had managed. My anger flew from me in that instant, evaporating like the water droplet on the hot burner.

I knew in that moment it wasn't good, the news. "Meagan let me in," was all I could whisper. I could hear you fumble with the locks and as the door slowly opened, I could see your eyes red and puffy from your crying. I could hardly contain myself as you fell into my arms sobbing.

The rest of the night I just held you, you would not speak but your arms never left me, wrapped tightly around pulling me close. Even when you fell asleep I tried to move you to your bed but yet you still would not let go. I held you as you held me until I too fell away to sleep. Still not knowing what was the outcome from the day.

## Letters from the Heart: November 7th, 2003

After you woke yesterday, you gave me a weary smile and told me you must go to the hospital today. The morning you spent filling a small suitcase and then walking around your home looking at everything! As if for the last time, you seem to register every leaf of every plant almost like you were storing the images away for another day. My heart broke to see you this way and it took all my effort, not to weep quietly.

I drove you to the hospital and my car was filled with a weary silence, the only words spoken was that of your hand on my knee, and it seemed to speak volumes of the comfort you got from my presence.

We checked you in and as the nurse guided us to your shared room I followed with your suitcase in hand, your fallen shoulders told me of your fear. I stowed your things away in the small closet as you dressed yourself in the cold light blue dressing gown, declaring yourself as one of the frail.

I sat beside you and held your hand as you looked away, dreading to look at me. I wanted to scream, "Wake Up Damn it! I'm here let me share this with you!" But I didn't, I kept my silence and gave you my hand for comfort.

Sometime in the afternoon the doctor came in and offered you a small smile, which you did not return. He talked to you at length of what they were going to do and though I tried to follow along, I got lost in the medical jargon and the only things I remembered were cancer starting in your lungs, and the cancerous tumor within your brain. Everything else refused to register.

The rest of the day was spent with you sobbing, and me sitting next to you until the nurse finally came in and said I must go. The few words you spoke to me were at that moment as you held on tightly to my arm as if it was the only thing saving you. You whispered, "Thank you," then pulled me down to kiss you.

I still taste your lips as I write this, home now in my own bed unable to sleep.

## Letters from the Heart: November 8, 2003

What is it about hospital rooms, hospital beds? When I entered you room and looked at you, even though you didn't look different from yesterday, yet you still did. I couldn't explain if you asked me, but it seemed like the bed overwhelmed you making you look smaller, frail. Maybe it's just my imagination.

You were asleep when I entered and an older woman sat in the lone chair in your curtained area. She had looked up at me as if asking who I was, then she spoke, "Scott?" I could only nod my head as I glanced quickly from you to her, then back again, I didn't want to lose your vision from my eyes.

She slowly climbed from her chair and took a step towards me, her hand extended. I had glanced at it then moved to take it in my own. Instead she collapsed against me, tears in her throat. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed as I had helped her back to the chair. "I didn't mean to burden you!"

I did not know what to say and felt ashamed. "She's all I have, her father passed a few years back." Was all she managed. I sat gently on the edge of your bed so as to not wake you. I didn't speak but then I didn't think she wanted me to. "I'm Evelyn, Meagan's mom." she said with a weak smile, "I came in from Calgary this morning." Her eyes drifted back to your peaceful shape under the covers. "And you are Scott, Meagan filled me in all morning. I'm sorry we've burdened you with this."

I couldn't answer but lowered my eyes. I wished you had been awake, I had to work tonight and couldn't stay long and wished to spend it with you. "I want to thank you," she spoke, "for the comfort and love you are showing my daughter, she may not say it but it means so much to her."

I was there for 2 hours, and you never woke the entire time and when I rose to leave your mother hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, "I'll tell her you were here." I nodded and left the room.

I'm stuck at work but know that my thoughts forever remain with you.

## Letters from the Heart: November 15, 2003

It's been a week now since you've been in the hospital. Your mother at your side through it all, through all the tests, the chemo. You smile when I come, but your eyes show me that you don't want me to see you this way. You've taken to wearing a bandana to cover the hair loss from your treatments. You don't understand, your beauty can't fail in my eyes, hair or not. It is the whole of you that I love not a part.

Your mother and I have talked lots as well, while you were getting treatment, or slept from your ordeals. She is a lovely woman and though she is stretched haggard I see where your energy and light comes from.

She holds my hand lots, and though it makes me slightly uncomfortable I will not let her relinquish me because of the strength she seems to gain from it, I wish not to take that away.

I laughed today also as your mother told me stories of your childhood. She told me one which I don't think I'll ever forget. She told me about a time when you were 5 or 6 years old. You were at a park for the day, a family picnic, you were dressed in a white cotton summer dress, the ones little girls always seem to wear. Well you had seen a frog and decided you were going to catch it, you chased it and chased it, and after a time your mother stopped watching you. A short time later you came back, mud from head to toe, your dress caked in it but you had a big smile on your face.

Your mother laughed then as she told me this. She said she was about to scold you for ruining your dress, but then your face lit up and holding your hands out, you exclaimed excitingly, "Mom I caught it!" Then you let the frog hop from your hands onto the picnic table.

I saw it all as your mother told me this and all I thought was, "Yes that's Meagan." Get better dear; I want us to share those kinds of stories with our own children.

## Letters from the Heart: November 18, 2003

It's not a good day! When I arrived this morning the doctor was with you and your mom. I was going to leave when your mother shook her head and reached her hand to me. She placed my hand in yours and motioned me to sit on the bed with you.

The doctor was calm as he explained that the treatments weren't going as well as they planned, and that the cancer has spread to your liver and can't be treated. Your hand tightened on mine as your mom sobbed out loudly. My focus was on you and though you had your eyes turned away from me, I could feel your body shake, and I knew the tears came. I held you; it was all I could do.

Now we know, now we know there will not be any further exploration with us, and I am devastated. My heartaches, I knew I said I could be strong but I can't, I do love you and this is killing me as surely as your disease is killing you.

We have weeks maybe a month he said. How the hell can they know when you will die, but not be able to stop it? What good is medicine if that's all it can tell us? I love you Meagan, and now that I know I'm going to lose you, I can't let go.

Tomorrow I go to work and ask for a leave, I don't want to lose the time I have left with you.

I weep and my pillow is saturated from the tears, even the page that I write this on is damp. How can life be so cruel to take you away just as I find you.

## Letters from the Heart: November 23, 2003

I spent the entire day with you today. It was also the first day since this ordeal began that you actually talked back to me, seemed genuinely happy I was there. I loved that!

Your mom went out for the day, I think to give us time together, I don't care for the reason, I was just happy to be with you. I laid on the bed with you and though small, we found plenty of room as we entangled ourselves together.

We pretended that you weren't sick and talked about the future, what it held for us and as you spoke I could envision the children, the home you described to me. It was a beautiful day in amongst the ugliness and I absolutely cherished the time.

Day turned to night and as visitor time slowly came to an end I didn't want to leave you, and when you told me half heartedly that you didn't want to see me anymore, that you hate me seeing you this way, my heart hurt. I knew you didn't mean what you told me and I took your hand in mine and smiled, "You can't get rid of me that easily, I'll be here tomorrow, not because I have to, but there is no other place I'd rather be than with you, I love you Meagan." You cried then and pulled me close, we held each other for what seemed like a blink of an eye, not nearly long enough.

You mother had returned to say goodnight and to kiss you before you fell asleep. I'll never forget the way you looked at us, it was almost as if all your pain and hurt was lifted. You smiled and said, "I love both of you, very much, know that and though I might be dying, I know no boundaries of your love for me and that sustains me."

As I left the hospital, your mother beside me, I felt honored to be included in your small family, and as your mother hugged me before I drove away I felt none of the uncomfortableness I felt before, and I actually embraced her back.

Meagan all my heart is yours and I'm lost to the world, you are everything.

## Letters from the Heart: November 24, 2003

I arrived at the hospital and your mom met me in the hallway. She was there to prepare me for the sight. Sometime during the night you took a turn to the worst. You were on a ventilator and though you slept, you looked lost already.

"The doctor is unsure if she will ever regain consciousness," your mom wept to me as we entered. My heart felt like it would burst from the pain as I looked at you and the tubes and machines, keeping you alive. The words from last night rushed back and I cried as your mom and I held each other, we didn't know those would probably be the last words we heard from you.

I helped your mom to her chair and I knelt down beside her as we held your hand together, the sobs still thick in our throats. I don't know how long we stayed that way and I don't know how many times a nurse or doctor came in to check on you, none spoke to us, leaving us to our silent pain not knowing how to help.

Day turned to night, but know this, during the entire day you were never left alone. The short bathroom break was always quick and then we would all be together again, our silence filling each of us.

I truly know what love is now, this is love and it sucks! We were meant to be together but not like this, not like this. We should be happy laughing, chasing each other through the tall grass of the fields, the cascading surf on some beach, not in some shitty hospital room, with life fading away.

This is so hard Meagan; I miss your smile, your laugh already.

## Letters from the Heart: November 28, 2003

The pain is unbearable; my chest hurts from the wracking of sorrow, my throat raw, the day long over. I came to your room early as all ways, I met your mom as I entered and we once more shared your hand between us.

Mid day it happened, it shocked us both, I think you knew. Your mom and I felt you squeeze our hands together, as if saying be strong. We looked at each other your mom and I, trying to decide if we actually felt what we thought, then your hand went limp and alarms went off!

The room filled quickly and we were ushered from your side into the hall, the curtain was drawn and you were lost from our sight. An eternity passed before the doctor came out, we knew from his walk, that you had left. His words were lost to the two of us as we fell into each other's arms your mom and I.

I did not allow your mom to be alone, and now as night surrounds us your mother sleeps on my bed and I write as I lay on my couch. My heart is broken, it bleeds! They were wrong the doctors, they said weeks, they cheated us of time, I feel like screaming at them at the world, "WHY!"

I do not know if I will sleep, and care not if I do, my heart feels empty without you here.

## Letters from the Heart: November 29, 2003

I woke this morning to the smell of coffee filling my apartment, your mom in my kitchen sitting at the table. When I entered she gave me a weary smile, and motioned the other chair at the table and the steaming mug already there.

We spent the morning in quiet, you filling our thoughts and as afternoon approached your mom readied herself for her chore today, making arrangements for you. I asked if she wanted me to go with her and she waved me off, "A mother's duty!" and left my home.

So I am on my couch with you in my head, my broken heart, can you hear me?

## Letters from the Heart: December 1, 2003

Today was your funeral. The day was grey, ugly as if knowing that there was no cheer today!

The church was full of your family and friends, all were in tears and had choked voices, I felt like an intruder. Your mother had me sit beside her and she held my hand, she cried the entire time. I couldn't help it and wept with her.

When the service ended she pulled me up with her and we went to you one last time. You looked so calm in your resting, and through the gaudy make-up and sheen, I could still see your beauty, and I wondered where are you. "Where are you Meagan?"

The ride to the cemetery was a blur, it was all to fast. Everything but a moment! You and I laughing, kissing, and then dirt falling on your lid, everything but a moment!

I wanted to jump down to you, feel the dirt on my back as we were buried! Your love still fills my heart but you're gone, what now?

What do I do now?

The End

# Chapter 16: I Hurt

I hurt, the pain exceeds

I hear, you're special

But it's only me

I give up for I hear it too often

Maybe better to be heartless

Than to share my heart

Today is like every other

Grey and dismal

But I have come to expect

Hurting is my companion

I shall learn to embrace

Because I hear you're special

Yet I'm alone

# Chapter 17: Light

I woke up today and my heart felt light.

I could not explain the change over me but I was no longer suffocating.

It was almost as if the sea of my depression had receded, my head at long last breaking the surface.

The air seemed fresher, cleaner on my skin and I smiled.

One of my few smiles, reserved it seemed for when only the kids are around.

I could not explain how an evening with you could cause this.

Would I say you're the one! I dare not say such words for what pressure, they would put upon your shoulders and mine!

I would say however, you have cracked opened the door.

Maybe it was only a crack, but it was enough to allow me to push it even more.

Whatever the reason, I didn't look at the day with the same despair that has so frequently come upon me.

The sky itself seemed more blue, or maybe its just because I've begun to look at it.

I look forward to hearing your voice, seeing you again.

For I'm curious what other recently erected barriers you might help breach, with a simple smile, cheerful laugh, a casual look.

And if our path leads nowhere I shall not despair, for the door lays open to me now.

And I will try to keep it so, for I wish not to have it close once more, shutting out the light.

# Chapter 18: I Am

I am ugly.

Then see what my eyes see!

I am not smart.

Then hear what I hear!

I am alone.

Then see those around you!

I am nothing.

Then why do I see you!

I am lost.

Then let me help guide you!

I am a failure.

Then why do I see success!

I am unloved.

Then feel what my heart feels.

I am so cold.

Then let me embrace you!

I am getting old.

Then let me help carry you!

I am so frail.

Then I shall give you my strength!

I am so tired.

Then lay on my breast!

I am dying.

Then know that I won't let you!

I am afraid.

Then know that I love you!

# Chapter 19: You Are

You are my evening glory, my early morning sun.

You are my spring flower, my summer day cheer.

You are the answer to my questions, the vision in my dream.

You are the quest that I seek, the treasure once revealed.

You are the smart to my ass, the better to my half.

You are the reason to my doubt, the feeling untouched.

You are the flame of my desire, the goddess of my wants.

You are the joy to my happiness, the song to my bird.

You are my future consideration, my path of success.

You are my hopes, and my dreams, of things unknown.

You Are

The world I wish to be.

# Chapter 20: The Beat

I hear the drum beat in my ears

It's filling up my head

My very core is bursting

From their constant beat of dread

The guitar screams its fury

Its wail fills the air

His fingers fly across the frets

Moving at rapid tear

The crowd moans and writhes

Their bodies move as one

The music guides their movements

Holds them till it's done

The singer's voice rises

It's crisp and clean and clear

Washes over spectators

Drawing them ever near

That's the power of the rhythm

The strength within the beat

The music's full of magic

That brings us to our feet

So let it wash through you

And carry us away

Let it drop our troubles to the side

Clear our cloudy day

# Chapter 21:The Field

I dreamt of you at work today. I closed my eyes for a moment and I saw you.

You stood across a small field from me; flowers of yellow, red, and purple divided us, their fragrance surrounded us. You smiled and my heart lit up, seeking to smile back. The flowers passed like waves as I walked towards you, a slight breeze blowing your hair across your cheek, which you brushed casually away. Your eyes were alight and I all I could think was how your presence paled the flowers.

Your lips parted and you said a word, but the breeze carried it away from me. You laughed and I felt as if I would melt, again you spoke and I heard the word, "Sweetness."

How could such a simple word fill me with such joy? I didn't know, but instead relished the feeling it brought. Finally we stood in front of each other, mere feet away and I reached up and gently took your hand in mine and we were connected. We lay in the field, the flowers our bed, and we watched the day pass us by, content in the others arms.

This is the dream that I had, and it filled me with joy.

# Chapter 22: Vengeance

The silent whisper fills the room,

He wakes in a cold sweat, a shiver down his spine.

Something is with him begging for release,

But he cannot see it though the presence fills the room.

"Who are you?" he calls out.

The only response is a wisp like touch along his cheek.

His body shakes from the unknown familiarity.

A lovers touch, he hasn't known in years.

"It can't be," he calls stumbling to his knees.

"Why do you torment me?"

The room flutters with unexpected activity,

His eyes wide with fear, he covers his head.

Heart heavy in his chest, his eyes turn wild,

He crawls to his feet, the air battling around him.

"I did nothing wrong, you don't belong here!"

His head, not believing his words.

The room does not answer but the anger is visible,

The air thickens as the weight increases.

His chest compresses making it hard to breath,

Ears screaming with the sudden pressure.

He can feel the blood of his past

Its slick on his hands, the smell is thick in his nose.

Thought it forgotten, buried to remain unknown.

So why has it come to show itself now?

His mouths dry, as if the decade of earth filled him,

His breath in gasps as if it were his last.

Darkness as light is removed by weight baring eyelids.

His scream silenced as dirt crashes down.

He feels it all and succumbs to the terror,

His past now his reality, reaches for him.

Her grip tight she pulls him down.

Her lips on his neck, forever embraced.

Body is cold the room empty,

The corpse on the bed.

Death has come with horrible remorse.

Vengeance has finally called.

# Chapter 23: Puppet

The puppet master holds my string.

He pulls and shakes to make me swing.

My life is guided by his hand.

Without his help, I could not stand.

These are the words he tells me so.

I know it's him that helps me grow.

If he let go, I'm afraid I'd be lost.

So I will curb his anger, at all cost.

He tells me how it is, I should be.

He tells me what it is, I should see.

He will not allow me, to be hurt by others.

He will shield me because, he says we are brothers.

He's my friend, my teacher, my protector of all.

He'll be there to catch me when I fall.

I'm happy to know my life is his.

I know this because, he tells me it is.

When I look around, things seem askew.

Because I see no strings, when I look upon you.

How is it that you can survive?

When you have no one, to lead your life.

You must be lost, confused and alone.

With nobody guiding you, your life being your own.

You must wake up, each morning and say.

I wonder what the world, will throw at me today.

But you don't look lost, confused or sad.

You actually look happy, you seem to be glad.

You do what you want, you say what you will.

You make your mistakes, but your life moves on still.

How can this be, it was not what I was told.

He told me I needed guidance, so I could grow old.

So here you are on your own and so strong.

How is it possible, that that, could be wrong?

Something is bothering me, something's amiss.

How can my life be solely his?

Do I not have thoughts, have free will.

Can I not find love, can I not seek thrill.

Am I expected to do what I am always told?

Can I not have a life before I'm too old?

What did I do to get myself into this?

How was it my life, came to be his.

Now I see and want what you've got.

A life that is mine, to draw my own lot.

To wake up tomorrow and see what it will bring.

To stand up and shout, stand up and sing.

I'm taking back my life; I'll be a puppet no more.

I'll do what I want, show me the door.

So tomorrow I'll wake, afraid with brow furrowed.

But happy I'll be, to take on my own world.

# Chapter 24: The Sunset

The walk had taken hours. They didn't care! They didn't care that darkness would be upon them in mere minutes, and the tent though brought, already lay forgotten, still in its bag. The pack was opened and the most important article for the trip was removed.

The blanket they spread out carefully across the wild grass and laughing they lay upon it, cuddling, facing west. The show was about to begin, the painters brush lay waiting for the stroke. The mountains spread in every direction, majestic in their hugeness, reminding the pair that they were just a tiny part of the whole.

The brush was lifted and streaked across the sky, saying its final words before night took its place. The colors streaked from the peaks, the pinks vibrant, the reds ablaze, the purples ominous. The few clouds played as if leaves in a puddle amongst the color, relishing it, for in moments it would be gone, as darkness overtook the brilliance.

"That is everything," he whispered into the back of her neck.

"No," she breathed back as she turned and brushed his lips with hers, "It is only the beginning!"

Bodies entwined, bathed in the suns final words, the paintbrush was lifted from canvas and night rushed forward.

# Chapter 25: Ring

This is the ring of my heart, which I give to you. It is not to bind you to me, but to join us together as one.

Our lives will forever be like the trees of the forest, whose roots, are intertwined and impossible to separate from the other; And, as with the trees which bare witness to the passing of time, I to, will bare witness to the extraordinary life with which you live.

I shall share your highs, your lows, knowing it's not just yours but mine as well, for our joining makes it so. I know also that when the strength of one falters, the other shall carry the weight, moving us forward.

As the tree drops its seed in order to grow, so shall the ring of our hearts feed our love for one another, and from that growth, the blooming of our love will see us through the life that we share.

This is the strength of the ring I share with you, and it shall remain unbroken

The End

# About the author

Bradley Atchison, resides in Wetaskiwin, Alberta with his wife and kids

# Connect with Me Online

Smashwords <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Batchison>

mailto:batchison_books@hotmail.com

