docdirk 47M
5418 posts
1/21/2006 10:17 pm

Last Read:
3/13/2010 10:03 pm


I had never seen a brighter sun. Or a bluer sky. A more perfect day. Those facts alone annoyed me as much as anything else on that regrettable afternoon. The fact that perfect days were still possible. The fact that nature, life, God himself didn’t seem to care. Didn’t even seem to notice. Or, more likely, if they did, they took pleasure in reveling in my misery. Great pleasure. For every ray of sunshine, every hue of blue, every picturesque moment made me feel smaller, emptier, more alone.

. If I strained hard enough, I could still see that small dot on the horizon. The unobstructed celestial view provided ample time for me to watch, to reflect to regret. Ample time that rolled by at quarter-speed, nearly pausing my life like the bad movie it was in some cosmic DVD player. Time that, if I dared to close my eyes, would slip into re-wind; forcing me to relive the treacherous hours leading up that moment. The moment that I felt the first acidic tear rip across my face. Liquid fire. Molten manifestation of grief.

.. The lumbering hunk of metal stopped, started and stopped again. It seemed that the plane itself wasn’t sure it should leave. A 757 fueled with uncertainty and remorse. Most assuredly, a vessel weighed down with that much emotion could never move. Never lurch into gear. Never gain speed. Never take flight away from me. Not with so much of me inside. The only parts of me that mattered. My heart. My feelings. My future. My Sarah.

… I had lost sight of everything but the back of her head and her sweet smelling undulating auburn locks that exhaled freshly picked strawberries in June. Her hair that usually danced like the flames of a wildfire. Her hair that felt of newly spun silk in my hands, against my face. Her hair that tickled and teased as it wrapped itself around my limbs on a thousand star filled nights of unbridled passion. Her hair that now hung limply across her slacked shoulders, lifeless and doused. Inching away. Further away from me into the gaping mouth of the gateway.

…. It felt as though my own arm was being ripped away. Torn from me. I held on as hard as I could, for as long as I could. Held with all of my might. With every ounce of energy I could muster. But no matter how hard I struggled, how hard I grasped, how silently I beseeched; she still let go. Her hand from mine. Separation. Departure. Her eyes ‒ the deep sea color of forbidden treasure ‒ turned away. Twin opals of mystical opulence. Mirrors to a world with which my dreams could never compete. A wealth of pleasure and comfort I could never measure. In one instance, one tick of an unseen clock, it was all gone. Her touch, her flesh, her gaze, her promise. My hand left cold, my stare longing for sight. She turned her back and took the first step in a lifetime of steps away from me.

….. “Flight 815 to Denver, now boarding.” Like a soldier ordered to the front lines, she rose from her seat and readied for battle at the announcement. Gathering her bags, her armament, her weapons of choice, she approached the incoming fire without refute, without concern. She had made her choice. She had chosen her battle. She had thrown aside all that no longer mattered. All that held her back. She had delayed her decision for as long as possible, waiting… praying that her reprieve would come. That the order to remain would arrive like some last minute Governor’s pardon. Hoping beyond hope that the right words would be uttered. Words she had longed to hear for what seemed like generations. Words from me, who was too dumb, blind and mute to convey such precepts.

…… “Give me a reason to stay.” Maybe I was too transfixed by her voice. Like lanolin. Like tempered glass. Operatic. Like the gentle rolling of high tide. It was harmonic. It was truly musical. Hypnotic. I could listen to her recite the stock market results and be charmed. Her voice alone could silence the cacophony of a thousand larks. Songbirds red-cheeked with embarrassment. The singing of angels. I had somehow become jaded ‒ used to her tones. I had taken for granted the actual words she could form. Words that stated fact. Words that wondered aloud. And words that asked pointed questions. Questions that had been repeated ad-infinitum over time. “Do you love me?” Do you love me? She had asked it before, and I had somehow managed to answer without giving an answer. Words that she was now somehow managing to ask again. Only this time; no answer was not an answer. “Give me a reason to stay.” I had compiled a list. If only I were strong enough to reveal it to her.

I did love her. More than either of us could know. More than she could know because I never spoke it. More than I could know because I never took possession. I never admitted that my heart was as barren as Kansas farmland in mid-winter. As barren as the surface of the moon. As barren as the floor of the Pacific. I could never admit that I needed her as much as my veins needed blood. As much as night needed day. As much as death needed life. Never. Not in a million light years. I bled pride. I ate independence. I drank freedom. Yet, somehow, without her, I had none of it. I never dreamed that could be true. Until it was too late. Until the lumbering hunk of steel and fuel somehow outwrestled gravity and took her away.

The sun still shone. The sky remained blue. The day continued its perfection. The dot on the horizon, however, was gone. As day turned to night and a silver sliver of moon unwrapped itself around an ashen gray sky, I remained at my perch. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for sense to be made. For my life to come into focus. Waiting for time to melt backwards. I had thought and thought and conjectured and agonized, and I finally had an answer.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

“Because I love you!”

My reply echoed back onto me like gunpowder. But the dot in the sky was too far gone to hear.

Copyright JJW 2006

"All we have is this moment, right here, right now. The future is just a fucking concept that we use to avoid being alive today. So, be here now."

Brenda Chenowith/Nathaniel Fisher, Jr.

Ah, Its you again, Your Angel Feathers and your Blood Stains...

SexyRycheBabe 44F
820 posts
1/22/2006 12:33 pm

I think its time you find Sarah again.

rm_metalmama69 42F
3878 posts
1/22/2006 6:28 pm

Wow! I could not breathe through that! So beautiful, my friend

Luvwetcunt1000 48M
1258 posts
1/22/2006 11:07 pm

Wow! What a powerful story. I could feel tears building up in my eyes. I'm hoping what I just read is fiction?

docdirk 47M

1/22/2006 11:09 pm

Thank you all so very much. Candy, Mzhony, SRB, Metalmama, Sweetneeds... you are all too kind! You have no idea how much your words mean to me. You've made writing this stuff down enjoyable for me again. Yours is the gift that is truly appreciated!

Ah, Its you again, Your Angel Feathers and your Blood Stains...

docdirk 47M

1/22/2006 11:11 pm

    Quoting Luvwetcunt1000:
    Wow! What a powerful story. I could feel tears building up in my eyes. I'm hoping what I just read is fiction?
Sorry, LWC, didn't mean to leave you out!!!

As they say, this story is "based on actual events." One never knows just how much.

Ah, Its you again, Your Angel Feathers and your Blood Stains...

GoddessOfTheDawn 105F
11238 posts
1/23/2006 4:00 am

~ nodz ~

momentz ....

SilkenKiera 37F  

1/23/2006 7:48 am

Aww J.J. Your words are constructed so beautifuly that we as the readers always end up standing behind you viewing it as it's happening, and we love that. You are the kind of writer that I hope to aspire to.


slidein2meplz 61F
1994 posts
1/24/2006 8:55 pm

things left maybe too late? If it isn' have nothing to lose by trying to get it back.

I have lived that with one I loved more than anything...never said to him what needed to be said long, long ago..his name was forever too late.

~~~ Just me, poppin to say HI! ~~

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