On A Rainy Day

At first, it was so light, you could hardly tell it was raining at all. Then, it started to get heavier. You could hear it tapping against the roof. You could see it falling from the angry black storm clouds covering every single inch of the sky above. It was pouring down, bucketing. There were puddles everywhere. It had rained so much that it seemed a wonder there was any water left to fall. But fall it did. It did not stop. It didn't improve, instead, it stayed a as it was or grew heavier. A constant, at times deafening pitter patter on roofs that brought with it a bitter, dreary cold. And wet.

Granddad ran without hesitation outside into the sprinkling rain. He spread his arms wide, turning his face up to the sky with, we all hoped, his eyes closed. He spin round in gleeful circles. His young great-grandson followed him out, a big smile on his face. At the door, he pulled on his gumboots with great effort before running clumsily after the old man. His wrinkled face lights up with joy as he turns to see the bumbling toddler coming toward him. The toddler's face reflects the absolute delight in his own. The old man bends down, easily lifting the young boy into the air, proceeding to waltz the two of them around the yard, singing a tune we cannot here from where we are watching, the sound of the rain drowning it out completely, as the young boy laughs uncontrollably. He leans back in Granddad's arms as he does so, spreading his arms and allowing the cool raindrops to fall on his face.

The young boy's mother, my sister, wanders nearby, open umbrella in hand as she gently runs her fingers across the delicate, wet flower petals. Every so often she glances over at the toddler and the old man, a small smile on her lips as she watches them, happily oblivious to most of the world but each other and the rain falling down on them.

In the next room, my brother sits, hands hugging his knees to his chest and a big fat frown on his face. Sulking. Because the power's out and he can't sit glued to technology as he does most of the time. He spends so much time with technology that he has no idea what to do without it. He has no plan B, and so he sits, staring off into space, sulking. The most we get from his a groan. Now that our parents have gone crook at him for repeatedly asking things they can't possibly know the answer to. Why is the power out? When will it come back? How long will it take for the power to come back on?

With a heavy sigh, I turn to look back out the window at Granddad, my sister and her son. All joyously soaking up the now pouring rain. All seems quiet, pretty, serene. Until it's not. Suddenly, with a loud crush bang, my mother bursts into the room, rushing past me in a flying blur and roaring through the back door. She lifts a newspaper I hadn't noticed her holding  over her head and runs out to Granddad. "Dad!" I hear her yell through the door, "what do you think you're doing!?" I glance at my sister, who is unobtrusively watching on while pretending to still be absorbed in the wet flower petals in the garden.
"And stringing Nile along for the ride!?" Mum goes on. She glances at my sister. "Lilly at least had the good sense to fetch her umbrella." In unison, my sister and I roll our eyes behind our mother's back. "Dad! You'll fall ill! Come on, back inside," Mum reaches out to lead Granddad away, but he shrugs her off.

Miraculously at that moment, the rain slows right down. Granddad points up. My mother, sister and I all follow his gaze to see a faint but bright rainbow has appeared in the sky. "Look, see?" He says, softly, gently turning back to my mother. "Rain doesn't have to be bad, all dark and gloomy. It can be beautiful, joyous." The wide beam on Granddad's face appears inerasable

I smile. I like Grandad's outlook. His view. There's nearly always a rainbow after the rain, I can remember him telling me once. You shouldn't let anybody take it from you.

Here With Me

You never leave my mind. So much of you is left behind...

I need you to know, I'm with you. Right beside you. You're not alone right now. I'm not really gone, you've got to go on...

Sitting mere metres from his beloved, he reached out to touch her. But she could not see him sitting there beside her. She didn't know he was there. Still, he looked at her. Could not look away, though it broke his heart to see her this way. He wished there was something, anything he could do. He was there. Right there. But she didn't know... 

His face lit up with a sad smile as she reached out to touch him. "It's almost like you're with me," she said. 

I am, my Darling. I'm right here. Right here with you. I just wish you could see... 

"I wish you could be here with me." He moved to touch her arm, but it fell straight through hers. He did not have a physical form anymore. He could no longer touch her. She turned away from him, and sat in silence a while. "I can't believe this," she said, beginning to pace. "I don't want to believe this. Don't want to believe that you're gone." 

But you've got to go on...

"I know I have to go on. I know that I have to let go. But, I just can't accept it yet." She paused in her tracks and retook her place on the lounge beside him. His smile, small and sad, went unseen. She let out a heavy breath. "I want to believe. More than anything, I want to believe that you're still here with me, but I know I have to let go of the life I'll never know." She smiled in his direction, as if she knew he was there. "I know that I have to go on, hard is it may be. My heart is broken, it keeps breaking every day. But, come what may, nothing stops another day." 

I want you to know I'm here for you. I'm not going to leave you. You're not alone. I will always be 
here for you. I will not leave you alone, my Darling. You will never be alone. 

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In loving memory of my Great Aunt, who passed away early this morning. RIP. 

Piece of Me

One foot in front of the other. Just one more step. This is what I've been telling myself. For who knows how long. But, as I round the same corner for the hundredth time, I stop, leaning back in my haunches as I gasp exhaustedly for breath. It is only now that I realise that I must give in. That I must finally admit what I have been trying to deny for so long now. That I am lost. So utterly, completely and totally lost.

We entered this maze together, you and I. Now, here I am, walking endless circles without you by my side. To lead us. To guide us.  You disappeared and left me here, all alone. You weren't supposed to leave me here, you know. You weren't supposed to go. I wasn't ready. I'm still not ready. I don't think I ever will be ready to let you go. To say goodbye.

I long for you to return to me, dear friend. To be by my side again. I need you here with me, for I am so lost, so alone, without you. I have tried, so hard, to walk this maze alone. But every new path looks the same. I turn a corner, to find nothing novel there. Everything blends in. You, my friend were special. You could tell things apart. You knew where we'd been, where we were and where we were going.

I've lost all of that now. Like you, there one moment, and gone the next. And when you did go, you took a piece of me away with you too. A vital piece it would seem. Like a fair chunk of my heart. Because, nothing's been the same since.

I stand here, wishing there is something I could do. But, I am helpless. With you, and that piece of me gone, there's nothing left but to learn to live again. It seems impossible from where I am, but... it is possible, I think. People do live without parts of their hearts. At least, I think they do. I hope they do. Because, that's the future I'm facing.

But, even if I live to tell the tale of a stolen piece of my heart, a stolen piece of me, I will always love you. I will always miss you. Though, I hope that one day, maybe, I might be able to live again. That I might find the exit from this endless maze and find a life beyond this. And I hope, for you, that it's wonderful wherever you are. I hope you can be happy. I hope you are able to have the life you have always deserved. But, more than anything, I hope against hope that I'll see you again, someday very, very soon.

Fuel For the Fire

Can't... Will never.... Won't... As I repeat these words to my friend, she is seething. Were this a cartoon, steam would be flowing from her ears accompanied by a high pitched squeal. "Oh no," she says through gritted teeth, her entire body shaking. "We can't have that!" 

"What?" I say, spinning on my heel as she begins to pace. 

She in turn, spins on her own heel and faces me, coming closer, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "Candace! You... you mustn't let people tell you those things..." 

"It's not like I can stop them." I say, "I'm not God. I can't control anyone but me.." 

"True," she says, coming to sit beside me. 

"But that's exactly it, Candace..." I say nothing, blinking a few times. "You can control you!" 

"What do you mean exactly?" 

"Can't.. Never... Won't..." she says, on her feet and pacing again. "They're all just words." 

"Negative words though, right?" 

"Wrong!" Once again, Hilda spins on her heel, a wide smile on her lips. "For most, yes, they are negative. But they don't have to be. For most people, they're negative words because they allow them to be." 

"Ok..." I say, "Hilda, I can see that you're passionate... but... you're not really making much sense." 

Again, she settles in a sitting position beside me. "Look Candace, if experience has taught me anything, it's that you choose the impact words have on you. Have you ever heard that saying?" She pauses, trying to recall it in her memory. "You know the one..." Again, she trails off. "Sticks and stones may break my bones..." 

"but names will never hurt me!" I finish with her triumphantly, a little relieved to understand something at last. 

"Yes!" says Hilda, the smile returned. "The second part of that saying implies that you can choose to ignore words which may otherwise have negative associations." 

I nod, smiling. Finally the fog of foreignness is clearing.  

"So, those words," she says, pausing to ensure she has my full attention, which, of course, she does. Now that it seems to make a little sense, she has me hooked... "Can't... Never... Won't... You've got to use them." 

"I'm sorry," I say, "use them?" 

"Yes," says Hilda. "Use them as fuel for the fire." 

I blink at her silently. She's lost me again... 

"Because they're telling you things right? They're telling you that you can't.. won't.. that you'll never.." 

"Yeah," I nod, albeit slowly. 

"So you use the words as motivation, fuel, to do the opposite." 

"Oh," I say, lighting up again with the onset of a lighting bulb moment. 

"You use it as fuel for the fire," Hilda says with me, nodding.

Fuel for the fire.

Silence Is All You Know

Silence is all you know, when you're alone..

The young girl looked out the window at the world beyond. Her shoulders slumped, she let out a humph as she folded her arms across her chest. Oh, how she wished she could join them. How she longed to be among them. But, she knew, if she were to venture out, the busy bustle would quickly disperse, and within a few minutes, there'd be no one in sight. They were all scared of her. So, most of the time she slept. For sleep was an escape from the horrible feelings that came with isolation. Of longing, of sadness and envy. And, rest, they told her, was good. It didn't seem to matter if she got a lot.

She had been isolated for as long as she could remember. But alone, it felt as if time dragged on. That every minute lasted an hour and every hour a day. As she usually did in her few waking moments, the young girl watched the world from her window, For a while, the world carried on the same way it always did. Until suddenly, a figure began to approach her window.

The sight of the figure growing larger as it came closer made her jump. When the figure was as close to the window as she was on the other side, the young girl realised that on the other side of the window, was a boy, around her age. He tapped on the glass to gain her attention. "Hello," he said, waving cheerily. "I'm Tom! What's your name?"
"A..Aaliyah," said the young girl slowly, jumping again at the sound of her own voice, for she hadn't heard it in so long.
"That's a very pretty name," said Tom, whose gaze had fallen to his feet. He looked back up at her again. "Can you come out and play?"
Her own eyes downcast, Aaliyah shook her head. "I'm not allowed out," she said as tears threatened to spill a waterfall from her eyes.

"Can I come in then?" Tom asked eagerly, "you look lonely, and I haven't anyone else to play with."
"I don't know where the door is," said Aaliyah, returning to staring at the ground after peeking briefly at the boy.

She looked up again just in time to say an older man apprach the boy, setting his hands gently on Tom's shoulders. "What're you doing Tom?" he asked and Aaliyah held her breath, sure he was going to make Tom go away.
"I found a playmate," said Tom, glancing at her, "only, she can't come out..."
The man looked up at Aaliyah through the window, "Hello!" he said, just as brightly as Tom. "I'm Robert,"
"He's my brother," said Tom quickly, and Aaliyah nodded her understanding. "this is Aaliyah," he said, turning back to his brother.

Robert, it turned out, was very clever, and soon, Aaliyah was joined by him and Tom on her side of the window. "What are you doing here all by yourself then, huh?" Robert asked.
"I'm sick," said Aaliyah.
"No one comes to see you?"
"Not often," she said, "they're all scared of me."
"Scared?" he asked. "Why would people be scared of a pretty young girl like me?" Aaliyah felt her cheeks warm at his words and pressed her hands to them, savouring the foreign, but nice sensation.
"They think they could catch what I have," she said. She did not react, knowing what would come next. On instinct, the two brothers backed away from her, though to their credit, they only took a half a step.
"I... Is that possible?" Tom asked nervously.
"No," said Aaliyah, shaking her head for emphasis, "I'm pretty sure so. I'm dying." To her relief, the brothers came closer once more.
Robert continued closer, circling Aaliyah thoughtfully as he started to speak. "And, as far as you know, dying is not contagious. Right?" Robert spun on his heel, stopping when he was facing
Aaliyah.
"Right," she said definitely, echoed by Tom, who followed with a sigh of relief.

Tom closed the gap between himself and the others, and Robert went to stand by his brother. "Well," he said, "consider yourself alone no more," he said, rubbing his hands together, a gleeful smile on his face.

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The brothers returned a time later, and Aaliyah started to smile before her breath caught in her throat as she remembered a warning she'd been given, long ago. You only have so much time, Aaliyah. Be cautious...
"Robert, can you check on the other side of the window? Is there a number there?"

"There's a number here," he said, looking at her. "10."
"Aaliyah, what does that mean?" Asked Tom.
"10 days," Aaliyah said slowly,  remembering things as she spoke. "10 days is all I have beyond isolation."

In synchrony, Tom and  Robert's face's fell. "What?" Tom asked. "But..."
"Tom, you should go now. Go with Robert," said Aaliyah, touching a hand to his arm.
"But," he said again.
"There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do," said Aaliyah. "But, I still have 10 days."
Sadly, Tom nodded. "I wish I didn't have to leave you Aaliyah. I hate feeling like I'm leaving you to the silence."
"Silence is all you know when you're alone, Tom," Aaliyah said simply, a small smile at your face. "But you and your brother have shown me what it's like to not be constantly stuck in silence, and it's wonderful. The music is heavenly."
"Hold tight Aaliyah," said Robert, smiling his usual bright smile. "There will be much more music yet."

With that, Aaliyah watched the brothers go, smiling even as Tom looked longingly back at her. Then she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. So she could escape and speed time to when music would fill her world once more.