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Emotions not meant to be Buried10/20/2022 “Who let you in?” screamed a voice from the room. “How did you get in! That should be impossible!” The shouts turn to ones of sorrow and fear. The sounds of a trapped animal aware and conscious of its own demise. The knowledge that it cannot fight back and cannot win. Acceptance of fate.
It was a peaceful morning for Lilac, she had finally cleaned out her cottage and planted all the herbs and vegetables she felt she would need to survive this spring. Just a week ago celebrating the spring equinox with her friends. She laid plans to have some over when she was complete with her move, everything placed out, and the one dilapidated cottage made cozy. With this promise, she set to prepare the cottage for visitors, for guests. All the wood had to be cleaned, moss removed. She kept the moss as it knew not that growing on her home was not good. She allowed them to continue their growth on logs she found in the surrounding woods. Ensuring the log was fully submerged in water to allow the moss to take hold, she placed it along her customer log fence. Which function less like a fence should and more like a barrier to stop people or animals from mistakenly wandering into her garden. She needed to get more shale to fix the room, as the previous winter had allowed small holes to emerge and she knew that if she did not fix them now that they would only grow as the water got inside. This would be as simple as grabbing appropriate pieces from the local river and bringing them back. If she needed help, Coriander would likely help. Being her neighbor, if one could call being the next closest house buried in the forest a neighbor. But in the past he had proven to be of aid when a task was too much for Lilac. She wanted to go out and collect more straw to fashion a new broom, as her previous one had gotten wet and decayed. All of this would be a simple day's work for her. A long and tiresome day, but nothing she could not handle. As she had been doing this for the past 5 years, cleaning her house, preparing for the seasons, and ensuring everything was taken care of. It had to be that way, it was her home now and it needed to be given love and care. Especially after Lilac’s significant other of the time, August, had disappeared and had yet to return. This is not for lack of trying as everyone in the local area aided Lilac in her search for August. Everyone knew how much they were in love with each other and how much they meant to each other. It had taken months for every inch of the forest to be combed, every rock overturned, and every river skimmed. Yet they found no trace, no track, no hint of where August had gotten to. Lilac soon settled into the idea of having to manage her home all by herself. Taking on the tasks of two people on her own. She tried to find joy and passion in the upkeep of her house, the one she once shared with her beloved. Thus far, she has been successful for 5 years, 20 seasons, and many celebrations. With her friend wishing to visit once more, she had to make sure that all the tasks were completed and done with no issues to avoid any of them thinking she was giving up on her cottage. She couldn’t give up on it. It meant so much. Held so many memories. It was also the only place she could be close to August. You see, she had constructed a basement years ago with the help of August, his safe haven from the world. They had put their heart and soul into it and kept it a secret from the world. It was truly a place only they would know of and it was. Now it sat in disrepair, Lilac unable to bring herself to clean it, unable to stand being down there for too long. But she could not leave and let someone else find out her home's secret. Especially now that August’s body was starting to break through the ground. This summer she is going to have to dig deeper to hide his body from everyone. Her mask and blade buried deep down with him. She would hate for someone to finally find her beloved and all her tools Comments are closed.
Richard McKabaA storyteller with a desire to make worlds beyond the possibilities. To weave tales and plots to amazing and entrance. My Books |