Aisling

I looked at the young man... or maybe more of a boy, tucked up tight in his bed sheets and sighed. There was no way he would go unless he was made to. I had no choice but to go and guide him on his way. So I returned to his bedside, night after night and sang to him. It was the only way.

 

All it took was one look at me, one glimpse of my face, and he was mesmerised. I knew from his eyes, glassy and glazed over. He was in my daze. Just where I wanted him. At the mercy of my will. I could've done whatever I had wanted...

 

To my horror, the boy opened his mouth, perhaps to protest. I had looked away. But I was quick in pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "Shh. Come."

 

... correction- he'd do whatever I wanted, as long as I kept singing to him. My looks were one thing. Just a glimpse of me, a slightly transparent, yet glowing ghostly figure, would make any man weak at the knees. The reason I had to wear a veil everywhere I went. But my voice was what held the real power. So I opened my mouth and allowed my song to lap over him like waves. Once again, his eyes glazed over and he was hooked. I could have done anything, but I didn't want much- only a friend. This life of mine, lady of the lake, is a lonely one. You can hear it in my song if you listen closely. No one ever did though. No one ever has. Which is why I'm left with no choice but to use the charms of my voice. I didn't want to. Though, can someone who's been enchanted to you ever really be a true friend? Whether they can or not, he's the closest I have. Even then, I feel we're not quite there. I have sung to him for longer than I can remember and still, nothing. Whether it is he who disappears and breaks the connection or I, the problem remains. He does not. 

 

One day, he will come along with me. But that time will be different. Because that time, he will stay. 

What Goes Around

The tall, dark haired woman exuded elegance, even as she bent to match the height of the young girl sitting in front of her. "It's ok, Jessie," she said. 

The young girl shook off the woman's hand and leant away, just out of the woman's reach. "No." Her head turned quickly from side to side, voice struggling to stay steady. "Daddy used to call me that." 

In front of her, the woman stiffened in her crouched position, forehead crinkling as she processed what the girl had said, and what it meant. She could have asked, but she knew her niece well enough to know that would have made her more irritated. "Ok," she said finally. "What would you prefer to be called?" 

The young girl simply looked at her aunt a few minutes while she thought. "Jess," she said finally and nodded, satisfied. "Just Jess." 

"Ok, Jess." 

"What about you?" 

"Me?" The woman blinked. "Nothing's really changed, Jess. I'm still your Aunty Delaura." 

"Aunty D?" Jess asked, rising to her feet to leave. 

With a smile, Delaura stands and slips an arm round the young girl's shoulders. "Sure." 

"Aunty D?" 

"Yeah?" Delaura looked down at her niece, unsure whether she was just testing her aunt's response to her new nickname. 

"You said nothing's changed," Jess continued. "But... That's not true. Everything's changed. Everything." 

Delaura tried hard to hide her sigh. "Yeah," she said. "I guess it has in a way. What I meant was that I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere." 

"I wish Mum and Dad were too." 

"I know." Delaura's thoughts turned to her beautiful little sister, stolen from them, especially her little girl, far too early. "Me too." 

"Will that other man go away, Aunty D?" Jess blinked her bright dark eyes at her aunt, as if this would convince her. As if she needed convincing. "He needs to. He needs to go away cause he made them go away." 

Delaura nodded, opening her mouth to answer before stopping. "Yeah, but that's not up to us Jess..." she stopped just short of adding 'ie', a force of habit when she was feeling particularly protective or affectionate. "The thing we need to know is this; what goes around comes around." 

"Huh?" 

 

"Karma," Delaura explained. 

"Karma?" Jess repeated questioningly, as if this would explain it. 

"Well, the theory goes that if you do good, good will happen, and likewise, if you do bad, then bad will happen. Basically." 

"Karma." Jess said again, as if to link her aunt's description with the word. "So because he did a bad thing, bad will happen to him?" Her eyes light up with hope as she glances at the taller woman for confirmation. 

Delaura opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure about actually saying the words out loud, even though while it wasn't a great thing to be saying, it was the truth. But then, which was the lesser evil? Which was better? Stewing over rage at what he'd done? Something that nothing could ever undo? Or, believing that the universe would have a way of righting things so to speak, and taking comfort in that? 

"The universe will take care of it somehow, Jess," Delaura said finally, then repeated it, maybe more so to convince herself. She had to trust it. She had to. Otherwise, she was in serious danger of driving herself up the wall. "The universe will take care of it." 

Home

I miss home. The feeling is like a tidal wave of pain, sorrow and longing. I miss the feeling I used to have walking in the door, like a wave of calm that filled me with a sense of peace, comfort and relief. Then, it felt like I could breathe. Now, my breath comes in short, sharp bursts. 

It could be worse. I could be without a house at all. But I'm not. What I am without is a home. It might seem like the same thing. Right? I used to think so too. But what I've come to learn is that it's not. What I've come to learn is that there's a difference, a very important difference, between having a house and having a home. A house is a physical structure; it's walls around you, floor beneath you and roof above you. A home, on the other hand, is an emotional experience. It's a feeling of calm, an atmosphere that's relaxed and an ability to just be. A house provides shelter. A home provides safety. 

So I miss home. Because now, home has been left behind in the rearview mirror. The only thing I want, more than anything, is to get back there, but the only thing that's actually happening is that I seem to be getting father away. 

I spied it once, a way away, off in the distance. At that point, I didn't even have a house. Going home was a dream just out of reach. The locks had been changed and I no longer have the right key. I turn away with a sigh. I have a house, and I'm grateful for that. I just wish I could have my home again. I will one day. Just not yet.  

Let Go

She peered out from her vantage point high up on the roof of a tall building. The city far below appeared like a miniature model constructed as a scaled down version of the real thing. Just the sight sent a wave of nausea coursing through her. Determinedly, she swallowed the burning sensation it brought with it back down her throat. 

As she stood there, hugging herself tight she felt rooted in place, as if there were chains keeping her bound. Chains that had been there so long, she'd long ago grown used to the feeling of the metallic chill against her skin. Chains she hadn't realised existed before. It made her want to slap herself. How had she not seen them before? How had she not noticed there was something there, keeping her from moving forward? From moving on? 

But now, she knew, and she wasn't sure she could stand the feeling anymore. She wanted... needed to let go. But how? Was there a key to open the lock? Could she shake it all away? Was there even a way, or would she be trapped there, set in stone, rooted to the ground, forever? 

She shook her head. No. She couldn't possibly be set like this. Not forever. There had to be some way to make it go away. To let go. Her brain rattled inside her skull along with the chains as she tried to move her arms. Her attempts grew more desperate. But still, the chains would not budge. 

Finally, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth and released a frustrated, ear piercing scream. A rush of air swirled around her, flowing through her hair, lifting it and blowing her long, blonde locks behind her. The feeling of sweet relief. As it wafted away, the wind carried with it the sound of her screams. They became softer and more distant until they finally dissipated completely. 

When she was left alone with a newfound quiet to accompany the forced stillness, she found she was suddenly able to stretch her arms out from her sides. Somehow, she was suddenly, finally, able to move. She peered out at the view in front of her. She breathed deep for courage, spread her arms wide, bent her knees and took off. Finally, she'd let go. 

She had thought that she was all by herself, high up above the rest of the world on the rooftop. But, when you zoomed out even more, as it turned out, there were many people on high rooftops of their own. All of them rooted in place by a set of invisible, possible unknown chains. All of them struggling to find a way to shake it all away, let go and break free. All of them desperate for the same sweet release she felt now, flying freely amongst the clouds in the bright blue sky. And all of them, though not a single one of them aware of it, not alone.       

Stuck

I didn’t realise anyone could be so stupid. It didn’t seem possible. But then I met you, and you proved me wrong. You are that stupid and it blows my mind.

 

If you only opened your eyes, you might see. If you only tried, you might understand. But I get it now; you don’t want to. You’d rather dance around it and press your hands against your ears to drown me out. It’s not a thing. It doesn’t exist. Except it is, and it does. Your persistent insistence on being blind is driving me insane.

 

How lucky for you to have that luxury. How fortunate that you have the luxury of pretending it doesn’t exist. Of denying it. I wish I could say the same. I wish I could turn it off like a light switch. But I can’t. I’m stuck with it, and I’m sorry to say that for now, you’re stuck with me. I’m sorry. But I’m even sorrier that I have the unfortunate displeasure of being stuck with you.

 

How I’m managing not to scream and slap you senseless is anybody’s guess. I manage it because I have to, I suppose. Because I don’t have a choice. Believe you me, if I had it my way, your head would’ve split from my shrieking. Your body would have turned black and blue, bruised right down to the bone. Aren’t you fortunate that I am able to show restraint?

 

I’m not so sure you know how. If you did, you’d stop digging it all back up just to try and excuse your own idiocy when there is no justification for it at all.  If you knew, you’d realise the ludicrousness of your words.

 

But you’re a moron with not even the first clue. You have no idea how torturous you’ve made it for me. I thought I loved what I do. But thanks to you, I’m questioning everything I worked so hard for. You have no idea of the pain you’ve put me through. As if being stuck with it wasn’t enough, you have to rub it in with your persistent delusions that it has no effect on me whatsoever. Maybe it wouldn’t be this bad if you’d stop insisting on playing pretend.

 

Don’t you realise you’re actually making it worse? It’s not that hard to deal with, you know. I’m not asking for the world. But to you, I guess I am. I’m sorry you find it so unreasonable that I need different things, that I have to find other ways to deal. I’m sorry you find it inconvenient. But I’m even sorrier for what you’re too deluded to realise you’re missing out on. I’m sorry that you won’t benefit from the things I could show you.

 

But I’m not sorry that you’re missing out on all of it. You’ve only got yourself to blame for that one. You don’t deserve it anyway. I’m not going to waste my time on someone who thinks I’m not worth theirs. I’m not going to bother caring about someone who couldn’t possibly care any less about me. Believe me when I say that I am running as fast as I can, racing toward the part when I get to leave you behind in the rear-view mirror. I can’t wait for the part where I can finally be free, get away and leave you in my dust. Cause I promise you that then, I’ll never think of you again.