Monday, January 30, 2012
The Whispers - Chapter 2
Okay guys this is the second chapter to my story the Whispers. Out of all I have written for this story, this right now is my favorite chapter. Currently Caleb is experiencing both darkness and light vying for his life, will he believe the lies of the darkness, or will he accept the love and peace of the light?
This story for me, has a lot to with my spiritual life, as it used to be, up and down believing anything that I could hold onto even for a brief moment. This is the quickest way to losing yourself, I hope that as you continue to read this story that you will never lose sight of what's real and what is a lie.
I was falling.
Falling into darkness. Strangely enough I felt no need to panic. Suddenly there was a sound of a women shrieking; it wasn't just anyone's cry, it was my mother's. Chills flew down my spine. This was the last thing I heard right before she died. No, she didn't just die...She was killed. There was no proof of murder; the police said it was just an accident. There had to be more, something about this memory was so wrong. I knew that I couldn't remember everything that happened. Yet, every time I would try to recall it, I would just get a fuzzy image of my mother's face. Suddenly I was jerked to a stop in midair by an unseen force. Out of the darkness a scene played out in front of me. Before I knew it, I was standing on my old house porch in South Carolina. Then it hit me, the scream, the house. This is where she had died. My heart pounded. My mother shoved the screen door open while trying to get my younger self to hurry up. I stood and watched in anticipation, knowing it would happen at any time.
My mother stood there rifling through her purse. I walked over and looked into her eyes even though I knew she couldn't see me. My heart swelled, and I felt myself tearing up. "Mom, I love you," I said, voice trembling. I tried to touch her face, but my hand passed through her. I had had enough, I wanted to go away from here, away from all these terrible memories. Suddenly the screen door slammed shut, I looked over to see my younger self with a school bag and heading right to my mother's side. She didn't even seem to notice him, and before I could understand what was going on, the younger me had pushed her off the side of the porch sent tumbling to her death. It all happened so fast, I didn't know how to respond. The younger me turned and stared me down with black hollow eyes that seemed to expose my entire being. Then after what seemed to be an eternity he broke the stare and ran in as a child would crying for help, as innocently as if he had done nothing wrong.
I opened my eyes. The room around me spun. For a moment I imagined I was lying on my bed, mother coming in to wake me. Nothing was wrong, my dad wasn't drunk, and my mother was alive. It was all too real, I never wanted to leave this place. Slowly the vision of my mother started to fade. The reality of life was setting in, and the feeling of happiness was drained from my soul. I tried once again to sit up and quickly remembered the cut on my hand as pain shot through my hand. I rearranged myself and used my right hand to prop myself up and sit up on the couch. I looked around my house, there wasn't much to it: plain white walls with paintings scattered about them. There were no family photos, my father had long ago torn them all down while drunk. He never talked about mom, but I knew that's why any photos of her. I secretly kept a photo of her for the longest time, until one day while I was at school, my father found it, and tore it to shreds. When I got home he yelled at me for betraying him and not loving him as much as I should. I didn't really understand why he said what he did, but I really don't care what he says or thinks anymore.
"I love you," A voice said.
"I love you." This time it was audible. I thought that it was my father saying it to me. My heart fluttered, hoping that my father had come back and was apologizing for all that he'd done. My mind raced with thoughts at how my life could be changed, if only he said he was sorry. I turned and looked over the couch. Nothing., no one was there except for me. Then my heart sank for I knew that it was a silly little voice in my head playing tricks on me. I threw my legs on the side of the couch sitting up; looking over at the clock, it read 7:45.
I panicked! I was so late! I scrambled to my feet, ran upstairs and threw on a clean pair of clothes, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door. Wait! I skidded to a stop, and ran back inside. I had forgotten my backpack. I couldn't forget it again. Mr. Thornton would kill me! Well, to be more specific he would publicly humiliate me. Like I needed anymore of that. I ran as fast as I could to get to school. As I ran through the streets desperately trying to get to school, my mind was flooded with thoughts of Sara. Why was she constantly the subject on my mind? What made her so different from all the other girls? Perhaps it was destiny. . . Destiny? Who believed in that anymore? Suddenly a voice whispered in my ear. It was so close I could've sworn I felt the warm air from the soothing voice against my ear. It said. "Destiny is real." Those words stopped me dead in my tracks and I felt the words resonate in my heart. Where did that come from?