In
the distance I see a graveyard, empty with the souls of the betrayed.
It is familiar, although in disarray. Are these ruins around me of a
city I have known before? In my telling of my story, have I led
myself back to familiar ground? If so, then why does this graveyard
stand as the last reminder of location? Ruins tell their own stories, but they are not telling me mine.
After
I murdered Marie-Lynn, I ran for my own life. The world crumbled
around me far faster than I had expected. I escaped the law, but
found myself convicted of murder and sentenced to exile. The plague
of wandering that I suffer now was once willful and wanted. The past
I attempted to escape owns and rules the world. It does not need to
capture to punish me. Why this graveyard?
My
curiosity seeks to destroy me. It leads me in and makes me read the
stones. Surprisingly, most have been left untouched. The decrepit
remains of flowers litter the ground. Hers seems to radiate with the
flame's light. It can't be true. It has been so long, but her
name is just as clear as ever. “Marie-Lynn Goulet – Killed by the
man who loved her most.” Why did I have to come here? I can barely
stand anymore. The story I had been telling has had its end written,
and I want to leave, but I collapse instead. I never meant for this
to happen. I should have never gone looking for her. Maybe then, I
would not have found her grave.
And
then, I see my name etched on the stone next to it. “Jesse Goulet –
The Wanderer – Lost to his own hand to wander forever in
purgatory.” The grave had to be empty. I may not be completely
alive, but I am by no means dead. Still, I have to check. Six feet of
dirt dug out by my bare hands. They ache, but the coffin has to open.
It is empty, all except for a note.
“My
grandson, one day you will return to this place and see your own
grave. I had your death faked, knowing that you would punish yourself
enough for your actions. I offer you now a place to rest. I do not
know how long it has been, but old wanderers tend to appear in
graveyards. You can rest with her by your side. I know your parents
have disowned you for your actions, but I will not so quickly give up
on you. I read your papers. You love for her is simply unreal. I
forgive you, if you promise to forgive yourself. Take care, and sleep
well.”
I'll
not rest yet. I have to tell our story before I can fade into
nothing. I do not seek sympathy for my actions. I seek release from
the storyteller in my head. I want to make Marie-Lynn real again,
through the unreal. But my wandering ends here. I can walk no
further, and I cannot bear to be apart from her anymore. Here I will
complete our story, up until my own death.
That
day, years ago on the bed that she shared with him, she confessed to
me that she too was trapped in the unreal. I had done that to her. In
fact, I was the cause of all the worst things that happened to her.
As she slept beside me, my mind processed the past, with the car
crash at the forefront of it all. I was tired though, and overwhelmed
by guilt. My eyes shut on their own, and color filled the darkness. I
think it was my world attempting to exist once more, but the colors
faded and the darkness came again. I heard her voice, coming through
the abyss. No words made sense to me until my eyes opened.
Marie-Lynn
was above me. I could not see past her, for her flaming hair
contained me within her grasp. Her face looked playful and happy,
forgetfulness in her hazel eyes. “Good morning, sleepy-head. How
did you sleep?” I think I heard love in her tone. I did not
understand why. I was utterly confused.
“Marie-Lynn...
Am I still asleep?” I needed to know. She gave me a gentle shake of
the head. Some hair on her left was brought up and revealed that the
room had not changed. But my question told her that I had not gone to
my world. Otherwise, she knew, I would have no doubts.
She
jumped to her feet, making me sit up to see her. There was excitement
in her step, and the pictures of him that had been on the wall the
night before were gone. “Come on! Get up! There's breakfast waiting
for you downstairs!” It was then that she burst out of the room,
leaving me to my confusion. I could not enjoy that strange happiness
of hers. I could not make sense of it. Did she forget all about him
and return to loving me? The grief was not present. A reason
presented itself to my mind. She might have lived ten years
overnight. I had to find out.
“Marie-Lynn,
did you have a nice long dream last night?” My question was posed
as I joined her at the dinner table. She had waited for me and very
little excitement was lost upon hearing the concern in my voice.
“I
didn't want to waste ten years getting over him after last night. I
have a world of my own.” For some reason, I only grew curious. We
began eating. There was a bit of silence on the side.
“Tell
me about it.”
-Zero
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