blending
no one will ever find me
I am buried beneath a mound of mistaken identities
my expression covered by a mask that will always remind you of someone
I will blend in just enough to be invisible
shading your eyes with my irrelevance and exploiting your ignorance to my own advantage
an empty room does not change
states when I enter
my breath beckons no wind
your eyes will never meet mine and I will leave you behind
no one will ever find me
my existence is far too calculated to be recognized
The Return
"No one will ever find me," shouted the boy as he strormed out of his parents home, forcefully shutting the door behind him. The leaves had begun to change. Shades of orange, red, and yellow decorated the pavement as the boy stomped down the sidewalk, tears blurring his vision. His bag was light. He had packed in a hurry. A blanket filled with comic books, a flashlight, 3 pairs of socks, 1 pair of pants, 2 packs of sour patch kids, a Swiss Army knife given to him by his grandfather, 2 t-shirts, and a stone he had found on the beach when he was 5. "I should have grabbed my hat," he thought angrily to himself as the October wind nipped at his ears. His incessant steps had taken him to the edge of the road and to the beginning of a path leading him into the nearby forest. He had spent many summers exploring these woods. He knew them well. As he entered the smell of damp earth filled his nostrils. The sun had begun to set, fading rays of light shone through the spaces where leaves once stood. The setting sun did not concern the boy, as he knew his destination. A cave he had visited often in times of distress. He made his way purposefully towards the cave, his step softened slightly, seemingly soothed by the forgiving soil. He had, had enough. Enough of being told what to do and who to be. Enough of his father's drinking, and his mother's ignorance. Enough of a society that cared more how they appeared to others than how they felt inside.
He arrived at the cave just as the days last light fell upon the entrance. A peace settled over him know as he removed his flashlight and walked into the darkness. He made his way to the back of the cave arranging his belongings around him in an organized fashion. Pulling out "The Flash" he leaned back against the wall of the cave. Only he never made it to the wall. His lean turned to a fall as he tumbled backward, passing through the space where the wall should have been. He found himself tumbling down a damp corridor, descending into darkness at an ever increasing speed. His yells echoed as his body awkwardly bounced across the smooth stone. The thought of death covered his mind like a dark cloud but before it could rain into his heart, he was launched out into a vast opening.
Smell was the first sense to return. Grass he recognized but it was different. Richer, fuller, more alive. Opening his eyes he blinked several times before he could adjust to the scene that surrounded him. Bright green grass covered the ground, glowing and moving despite the lack of a breeze. A stream of clear water filled with orbs of white light ran gently through the field. As his eyes shifted up, he noticed the sky. A deep indigo, oscillating with shades of pink and electric blue. White and golden orbs floated about, drifting slowly upward.
As the boy cautiously sat up he noticed a gathering of golden orbs to his left. He felt a strange pulling in his chest to move in this direction. Unsure if he would be able to stand, he slowly pushed his body off the ground. To his surprise he felt no pain. He glided over to the orbs, the feeling growing stronger with each step. As he drew near he noticed that the orbs were surrounding a figure. He could not discern what it was as the illuminating light all but blocked out whatever stood behind the light. He drew closer, now standing 10 paces away when the orbs suddenly dispersed. There stood a woman. Or at least it looked like a woman but unlike any woman he had seen. She was green. Her skin glowing the same color as the grass, eyes penetrating emeralds. Her long hair was a deep green, like fresh seaweed waving in the sea. She smiled at the boy and reached out her hand, beckoning him to come closer. The feeling in his heart had now spread to every cell in his body, a pulsating vibration oscillating between utter ecstasy and complete terror. His feet moved without his minds consent until he stood a few feet in front of the woman. Her radiance was blinding, like staring at the sun. Taking a step forward she reached out and took the boy's hand. With a smile she sang "Welcome home my son."
Anna & Robert
"No one will ever find me, Robert," she said, hugging the tree branch that her legs dangled off of.
"Is that so? Then how did I find you here, Anna?" Robert replied. He scooted closer to her and pushed her long, greasy hair behind her ears, showing off the imperfections of her face. She turned her face away from him and looked over towards the sun setting.
"You know me better than anyone else. No one else besides you would think to look here. Besides, no one cares that I'm up here. They're just happy I'm out of there way..."
"Anna, do you really think that I'm naive enough to believe that? There's many people that want you back."
"Like who?" She looked back at Robert for a second, and he returned her glance with a gentle touch on the shoulder.
"Like me. Like your family. Like your friends...There's so much that you're leaving behind. You just can't run away from us. We need you."
"A hell of a lie that is," she said with tears beginning to role down her face.
"A hell of a lie that isn't. Look," he said as he began to climb higher in the tree to where the branches became thinner, "up here you can see the sunset better." She looked up at him with a sense of wonder in her face, and then she climbed up to the top of the tree where Robert was. "See," he continued, "this shows us that you have a purpose in our town and that you should come home. Don't you think four days is long enough?"
"I guess..." she murmured.
"Now, won't you climb down and come home?"
"Only if you will come with me."
He looked away from her and down at his shoes and said, "I'm sorry, but you know I can't...You have to do this on your own now. You just have to be brave, that's all."
She sighed. "I guess so..."
"Alright. Good. Take care."
"Bye, Robert," she whispered to him. "I'll miss you so much."
"And so I will miss you." He grinned, and then he disappeared out of thin air.
Then Anna slowly climbed down to the ground, grabbed her bag of belongings, and began to return to her small room in her town's mental facility.
Scream of the Hooded Figure
"No one will ever find me," I breathed. "At least I hope not." I rummaged through my bag and took out my dream journal I had been keeping for a month, and flipped through the pages.
Most of my dreams were haunting and eerie, and they were all the same.
I was walking down a dark alley; one that mirrored the one I was in now.
I heard footsteps behind me, so I swept around.
There is a hooded figure, and the first thought that crossed my mind was, 'Lord Voldemort!' But then I remembered that I was not Harry Potter.
The hooded figure took off it's hood. It's face was pale, and if it had lips--or a mouth--they would have parted and opened when it spoke. But it did not.
"You are being followed." The raspy whisper cut through the silent air, and I shuddered, starting to run. But the whisper came again. "You cannot run from me; oh no."
I stopped running. The figure slowly closed in, until it's face was inches away from mine. It's cold breath smelled of blood.
The figure's beady eyes grew malicious, and it opened something in it's face that looked like a mouth, but I knew it was not. What was it, exactly? I was not sure. The 'mouth' screamed, and then I had woke up.
I glanced around the alley, making sure the creature, what ever it was, was not there.
My body was still racked with fear, from three days ago, where the same figure had attacked my house, taking my parents and my older sister.
I had ran away before it could get me, and it had screamed that deathly scream again.
But, thank the good Lord, I was still safe. Nobody would find me in a trash can that stank like dead fish and rotten meat.
Hopefully.
Freedom
No one will find me. I tell myself this, huddled in the cold. No one will find me, and if they can’t find me they can’t hurt me. I’d rather be lulled to sleep by the winter’s breath than taste their righteous fires. Even more, I prefer the whisper of the tree’s branches to that of their scathing tongues.
I am no witch. I am no wicked woman. I am to die because I have loved. I am to die because for the first time, a man reached out to me with gentle touches and affections, and I took them hungrily.
I never wanted my husband. I was sold to him. I was sold to him and my parents got the sum, and he took me in every way. I was fifteen. There was nothing in it but fear and pain.
When it was found that I was barren, when his passionless nightly visits proved unfruitful, he beat me. It began with a slap, but progressed to more. The blows were a ceaseless shower, every evening. He came home and he brutalized me and then I was forced to sleep beside him, listening to his still-ragged breath from the excitement his abuses brought him.
And then Nathaniel came.
Nathaniel, with his gentle, warm eyes and kind smile. With his calloused hands that were somehow soft. Nathaniel, who would cradle my bruises and hiss with anger through his teeth. I only made love to him once, but oh, that was a beautiful thing. We hadn’t intended to do it. It was unavoidable. The coming of rain to dry land.
“Run away with me,” he’d said. “Run away, run away.”
I’d agreed to do it. I wanted it more than anything. Freedom is a sweet, sweet song. We were to leave tonight, a week since our coupling, a week since I broke the vows I never had a choice in making.
Somehow, my husband found out. The consequences were grave. My nose still aches, broken. My left eye is too swollen to see out of. He had his hands wrapped around my throat, strangling me. My vision was going dark when my hands found salvation: the metal stopper I used to hold the door open when I swept out the dust. I grabbed it and hit him as hard as I could. It shocked him more than anything, and he tumbled off of me, holding the side of his head with a dazed look.
I choked, wheezed, and stumbled to my feet. I ran.
They will burn me when they find me. Or hang me. Either way I shall die. They shall cast the first stone, and the second, and the third. They shall do it sneering and pious, knowing they are better than me, confident that they have denied themselves happiness and have been victorious in that denial. I am now the whore, tainted and loathsome, and unworthy to live amongst such sacred eyes.
“Olivia.”
A chill ran down my spine. My eyes clenched shut, and I sent a prayer to God. I didn’t know if he’d join them in their accusations, but I hoped, I prayed, that he knew and understood enough to still love me. Surely he wouldn’t approve of his son beating his daughter. Surely.
“Olivia, sweetheart.”
A hand on my shoulder. So strangely warm in the cold. I felt soft lips press against my ear to whisper lowly:
“We don’t have much time. Follow me.”
Nathaniel. I turned to him without hesitation, groping in the blackness for his hand. He took mine and we moved forward, through the trees, further and further away from their hatred and closer to a new life, waiting on the horizon.
And they will never find us.
Constantly Running.
"No one will ever find me," I spoke, looking deep into his eyes. "They'll never look here. I'm safe here. "
"I still think you should go back," he said.
"Listen," I rose to my feet. "I'm not going back. I refuse to go back to a place where I am not seen."
"Your family misses you."
I watched him, his eyes pleaded with me, but my resolve was stronger. "I will not go back," I gritted out through clenched teeth. "It's too little too late."
I grabbed my bag and slammed the door behind me. He'd given up his ace without even knowing it. I was no longer safe here.
Again, I was on the run.
Black Ice
"No one will ever find me" was the thought that kept going through my head as I sat pinned between the steering wheel and drivers seat of my well driven Outback. The smell of sulfur from the previously deployed air bags was gone by now and the snow was beginning to thicken on the shattered tempered glass of the windshield as if a white blanket was being place over my body at the scene of the accident. The tire marks that led off the winding road and down a steep slope of Blewett pass would soon be gone.
Fuck! Why did I take that turn so fast when I knew all to well of the inherent risks of driving at dusk with 32 degree clearly displayed on my dash!
My leg was numb and most likely broken. How in the hell do I get out of here? How do I alert any one driving by with the increasingly heavy snow fall? No cell service! I should have stayed at the family cabin in Mazama and headed out in the morning! I don't want to be another tragic story on King 5!
Think! Think Bobby Think!
What did I have in my car that was reachable from my compromised position and help me alert passers by? A blanket to keep me warm! Food and water to get me through the night if not longer.
Most of the needed survival supply's laid in the back hatch are that I had already tried to reach....to no avail.
Fuck! I don't want life to be over!
I want to see my family and children get married, I want to be a grandfather!
I want to tell them I love them again.
Hope, cling on to hope I kept telling myself. Plenty of years left in this world!
It was at this very moment that I saw a colorful tube that had slid out from under the passenger seat.
I'll be damned! It was a Roman candle firework that I had taken away from my son Jack earlier that summer due to the extremely high forest fire warnings throughout the region.
I slowly worked the floor mat towards me and the candle was within reach. A cheap Bic lighter was located in my front pocket which I had used to light up some recently approved legal green in WA state during a day hike.
I had one shot at this. Don't screw up.
Luckily the passenger widow had been knocked out and was facing uphill towards the road. There were most likely three to fire fire balls that could help give signal. The timing had to be perfect! Lead the receiver with the pass! Don't throw it behind him! All sorts of sports analogy swept through my head.
What if it's a dud? No, it's going to work.
At that very moment I could hear the compression breaks of a large truck come over the ridge! As it came closer, I could barely make out that it was ironically logging truck which for years, I have loathed.
It was time to have an early Fourth of July in the snow. Lighter in hand, launch pad set for lead pass, wick lit, eyes wide open, nothing but hope!
It was the most beautiful site I had ever scene as the fiery colored balls streaked directly in front of the Loggers windshield and I would soon be rescued and forever thankful and appreciative of life!