The Past Recedes

October 13, 2010
By erinelong BRONZE, Ormond Beach, Florida
erinelong BRONZE, Ormond Beach, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

It's two in the morning, and I am up once again due to this reoccurring nightmare of my past. I'm back in Connecticut, observing a house made out of stone (that I hardly recognize) with large elms overwhelming the surrounding yard. Clearly, it's autumn, due to the vast amount of colorful leaves piling on the ground. Yet, the piles remain untouched, as if they have yet to be enjoyed. The air appears to be calm. The driveway attached to the house is abnormally long, as if it symbolizes the distance between my current residence and my previous one. My mother's old Chevrolet Blazer is parked there, but right next to the road, leaving a far stretch to the garage. What a strange memory; I feel like it should exist in real life, but it does not.
The most curious thing about this pale, gray stone house is a wall that matches it. As long as the driveway, it twists and turns and does not represent the border of anything whatsoever. It has no purpose. So why is it I see myself there? I'm a little girl again, hair much ligher and shorter, with great big blue eyes. I'm swinging my legs up and back, up and back, with a tremendous smile plastered there, as if it will suddenly come to life and blossom into a full-hearted laughter. Oh, I miss her, I think subconciously.
Looking away from her and at the house once more, I notice something has changed. It appears abandoned. The large windows on the front of the house reveal nothing but pure black holes behind them. The trees are officially barren, and the ground is covered in dirty, gray snow that matches the stone. I'm frightened. A distant sound of a train is approaching, and I do not want to stay here any longer. Unwillingly, I turn to her. She's the same, except she's just been asked to get up from my, and her, mother. "Erin, sweetie, come on!," in such a sweet, yet impatient tone. Her smile fades. She hops up, off of the stone wall, and runs toward the car in the distance.
The real me is still standing there, observing, scared. She is still there, only in ghost form, swinging her legs up and back, up and back, smiling at me with those great big blue eyes that penetrate mine, right down to my very soul. Oh, how I miss her. Oh, how I wish I could be you. I am hypnotized by her spell.
It's two in the morning, and I am up once again, breathing heavily, turning on the light.

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