[Excerpt 5]

A premise started this, I thought I was safe. I was wrong. Reliving a moment which I cannot remember;all seems beyond saving. Many a year has passed me by now, yet it appears to be only but an instant! All I cherished beforehand is now nothing but a distortion of reality. All I can ever do, the best I can hope for, is just a distant dream for me now. The highest level of all that I can achieve is never to be mine ; forever beyond reach.

                                         ***

Darkness controls this place where I dwell now. I lie on the grass, the Sun beats down upon me ;I bask in its glorious rays. “This day is so perfect” – I say aloud. I seem not to be even conscious of the fact I may not be the only one who can hear me.

         ***

There seems to be a block, it is as though many variables are at play here. It cannot just be the case that I imagining different versions of this story, surely. How is it even possible for me to say that? I do not even understand what the block is. I must confess, I do not even pretend to fathom for certain that I understand the situation that I find myself in.

That which appears to inhibit my subconscious is all that I am hiding from. Is that what made me who I was to inevitably become? It that were simply the case and all I had to do was to banish my misery and all the regrets of my past, then I would have done so long ago. It would appear that I cannot do that as I, as already stated, do not know what I am up against.

Is this the end for me? I am without understanding of my life. The existence the fates have cursed me with! Brought to such a wretched state of despair! Despite all that is against me I refuse to give in. The answer to all my troubles I so ardently wish I could fade to nothingness. The intangible cannot hurt me (I try to tell myself), by that reasoning my negative emotions can surely have no way to control me.

This, I guess, is the last one of my papers, or at least it may as well be, for am without any wish for any others to see my thoughts imprinted upon the page when I am gone. I hope that if I cannot do so myself, if any should find my papers, diaries, notes, etc. they shall burn them all unread, so it will be, in the eyes of future generations as if I was never alive. As you can guess I am not sure who this is for, as only can ‘hearʼ this, I pen the words not to be read, although I have written them as though that were my intention. It is as though I am ‘communicatingʼ with the world.

After the facade has fallen (I am solitary in my mind) in my thoughts I run, run into my inner demons, they seems to have a force that binds me down,takes me away, leaves me nothing but a fragment, a splinter of my former self. Am I to be forever cursed in this way? I do not even fain to know the answer anymore.

I see now (for a fact), no more writing is left in me for today, I am bereft of the creativity I had earlier. I should comeback to the page afresh, in order to pen another chapter in my life. A repeat of my attempt to scrape away the outer layer of the inner turmoil of my life life.

It is almost as though this conundrum needs to be tackled at a much deeper level, far beyond even my understanding of the matter,so that I may at last understand my fears and move on. When I have achieved that much, which I can never truly know when I have done so, even if it becomes the case that I have done so, where am to go from there? Is the best I can ever do ever good enough for me to be free in a complete sense?

The early morning Sun tells me of the coming day’s approach, a time I can be alone, the time I can think, a place in my life that I can feel safe until the hustle and the bustle of the day is really starting (for those who work, go to school, etc.) If only I could remember my past, can any other help me to do so? Something inside me tells me I must find them (if indeed they exist). I have become so sure of the fact that they do;I get ready, I prepare myself to spend the day at I know not where. Fully prepared to go to any lengths to seek them out.

I depart from the house now, I walk down the well known path. I must have trod upon this path many a time, yet I only seem aware of that fact now. I question why I think that way, but even at this present moment, I cannot find the answers to all that I seek.

Alone, by myself, in a woodland ;on a pathway;I muse on how empty everything is. Why is it so quiet?

I stare at the path, there seems to be no sign of life, the homes – inactive. No traffic. Not even the sounds of nature’s inhabitants (which one would expect from a woodland).

I enter the gate leading to a bridleway – screaming! Such distraught sounds of panic! No one to be seen. Real to me is such pain and sorrow as I follow the path that leads me further into never before explored undergrowth and unknown trails. I stop every now and again, my attention captured by scenes which evoke such a strong compelling urgency that seems to control me. They affect me me in such a way, halting from moving any further. I am drawn onward though, beckoned by some unseen force, an inertia, if you will. Yet another pathway ‘calls me to follow to its conclusion. I only follow, stopping as long as these intense commands ‘ command ʼ me to.

I find myself distracted from my original purpose. Led further, when I thought I had neared the end of my journey, a thicket feels like it closes around me and pushes me onward. It feel as though I have no control of my own limbs! It seems to have appeared once I have entered! The very woods wish to state their claim on me. I discard the burning sensation within me as quite irrational. Why am I struck in this way?

Pressing on now, a sense that I should return to every place that I leave. Is it my wish to save another(?) I have a vague impression, in my minds eye, a picture of the one afflicted with such negative emotions. Said emotions are so present in my consciousness now, it is as though they are real to me, but I know that is not the case. I am not this way out of pure sympathy, I really feel another’s emotions.

I stop for a while on a bench. I don’t know how to explain it, I can sense their aura, can ‘seeʼ them sitting next to me!

The intangible suffering and inner turmoil is so prevalent to my senses, as I carry on with my journey I feel obliged, out of respect to show my honest intentions. I cannot explain how intense this emotion is. It is as though I am separated from myself, internal and external. But paradoxically, I feel as though I am not. A state of confusion is upon me now. Are any of these emotions real to me, or am merely in the throes of some form of delirium?

Lost track of time! I wander through this woodland, I am aware of the fact it is nightfall now. “I must find a place to rest for the night, as I do not know how much further it is to exit this place.” – I mutter to myself.

Before I was even aware of it, it was morning again. Time to carry on from where I left off yesterday;hurried breakfast. If a handful of berries count as a substantial meal that is. I intend to make a mark on this day. It is almost as though I owe it to whomsoever possesses me with such strong emotions, to sort this out in other words as the meaning behind why I feel these strong emotions are now ‘shownʼ to me.

As I am thinking this, I am aware of another close to me. I cannot see them, but, the same as before, I can sense them. This time the sensation that runs through me is so much stronger than before. It strikes me that these emotions have chosen me, in order to impress upon me haunted, ravaged despair, and the burdens that remain within who it is that feel so near to me. It is almost as if they are a ghost (which would make sense as I cannot see them) leaving behind an imprint of their disturbed disposition. I have heard it said that when someone dies, either from suicide or another form of physical trauma, or even a trauma that was kept from view even when they went to their grave. Those (like myself) who have such a strong sense of empathy, that when a departed soul leaves behind such a deep level of sorrow, which runs through me so deeply. Never did I doubt that, I cannot explain, but always that has been known to me.

I do not wish to leave, the strong urge that I must remain in order to give more sympathy is almost to strong to resist. At last it is with a pang of regret that depart. Knowing I must leave at some point. I shall return to this place. I shall ‘liveʼ there in my head.

Time may indeed pass, some things remain unseen, but for those who are labeled a sensitive, they shall never truly go away. As if imprinted for all time, these intricacies remain in a mere sliver of a moment. Only in the mind do they exist.

Etched into what is intangible, ethereal almost, the cause of such oppression and abuse is so striking in its blatant obviousness, yet, at the same time ( to most) it would almost seem as though nothing has happened. So much tragedy seems to sadly go unnoticed

That which I mentioned above is almost an aside. Numbly lurching forward, stumbling in a daze, a nightmare returns. A way to resolve this issue is a long way from being known.

I find myself, after what seemed like a lifetime of travelling, the way out of this place!

At last I can be free!

Tarmac track, more like a rudimentary courseway… I re – recognise this path, it seems of no consequence that I do ; liberty assured!

As I look down the path, it causes me to think, does it resemble a metaphor? Or in some way a symbol of my past? No longer does it seem to rule over tormented souls. No hold over any form of life. Those who have been oppressed, they may not even know who they were, are finally free in such a way, they are finally aware of how much they are deserving of in life,that was always the case, this newfound idyllic way of life was always rightfully theirs, their own personal ‘Edenʼ.

©Stuart J. Crossley 2021

Nightfall (where the line divides)

Amidst the promise of terror, I choose to carry on. Out of my volition, I am in this old, deserted shelter. A fallen ruin, crumbling, littered with beer cans ;graffiti draped across brickwork.

Legend has it that a ghost haunts each month ;this is its domain. It is said (no one has lived to tell of its gender) the apparition appears from nowhere in order to claim another victim.

Into the ‘vacuoleʼ (a well) that is the centre of this place, the living shall join the souls of the dead, yet never to return ;captives.

I feel myself falling…

– END –

©S. J. C. 2021

A hut…….!

“Love, cannot surely be the simplest of feelings of course, but love is yet the most desired of all the feelings anyway………..he dared to exclaim through expression and actions, so simple yet so deep to be denied or neglected……….and so respectful in reality,” said the book’s introduction. She was impressed by the book’s cover, but […]

A hut…….!

Emblazoned.

Cloying the dirt that chokes me. Feeling as though an oppressive coating is about to end my days. I would pray to God, only there’s not one. Not for this world.

Some believe in fairy tales. I can’t. What is so wrong with people? It is not those who are devout this is aimed against;it is those who use their power to control.

What else is available to say? If there are any who care to read this note, I shall (even though dead) have achieved something. Close to passing out now! Torn open my lungs…

– END-

©S. J. C. 2021

Dystopia;remnants.

Empty is the ship, the waves beat against the sides, the sails are close to breaking, crew members look haggard,they are all showing signs of being unable to continue;original vigour gone. Keen drive: non – existent.

Will we sink? Drowned in the depths of who knows? If only this were as easy as a diary entry, then I could then I could remove myself from my emotions, the fate that awaits us. I realise at that very moment, how inconsequential we are,in comparison to all humankind. We are all just minute ‘cogs ʼ…

… Who will mourn us as we go to our watery graves?

– END-

©S. J. C. 2021

Without obligation.

Walking onto the porch, searching the promenade with my eyes. I scan for a sign of life,as ever there is none to be found. I have existed this way for I don’t know how long. I return to my home, drawn back I should say. I cross the hallway;it seems quiet.

A gunshot! I run outside. At this moment I have no idea what to expect. Isn’t it funny, I long for company, yet all that gives me solace is a corpse. There is no sign of the killer. I stare at the mirror image of myself. – The murderer.

– END-

©S. J. C. 2021