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Chapter One
The wind was cold and brisk. It whipped through the trees and nipped at the grass. Though the sun was bright and beautiful that day and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, it felt as though the world was frozen. There was no snow, no leftover rain on the crisp ground. Nothing more than sky earth and air.
Normally no one would be willing to leave the house on a day like this. Look but don’t touch. See but don’t feel. But today was different. Today there was something important to do. Something life changing. Something that could not wait for another time. A single person would walk the empty streets today, with one thing in mind. Nothing more and nothing less.
She strode down an empty street, feet scuffing the ground as she trotted along, not enough energy to lift her legs enough for her feet to leave the ground. Her face and hands were frozen in the chill air and she could hardly breathe through the cold. Each step seemed as much a chore as the one before it. It pained her to move though she knew that it was necessary to do so.
Houses passed by slowly on either side of her. As time went by and she continued on and on and she turned corner after corner, street after street, the houses began to change in appearance. What were once new and trendy were now old and broken. Boarded windows, rotting stairs. The stench of things which had little left to live emanated from every crack and crevice. A great milky grey aura covered every surface. Nothing happy lived in this place. Only struggle and anger could be seen. Only the dark hues of melancholy.
Her stomach churned as she continued on, still farther into this new grey world. She was not used to seeing things like this. She was not used to anything less than luxury. She fed off of color and Prada. Off of cheerful neighbors who all knew your name. Off of happy holidays and friendly faces. Her life was full of laughs and joy. Until as of late, she had never known anything but a seemingly perfect life. Nothing had ever hurt her world until recently. And she had thought that that’s how it would always be.
If not for things she had recently discovered, things she had recently lost and things she had recently realized she needed to know, she would not be here in the slums of her once hometown. She would not be looking for the house she had grown up in. She would not be searching for the person with whom she had once loved then forgotten. For years she had had no knowledge of anything. She hadn’t remembered anything. She hadn’t known the awful truth that would eventually change her entire world, and the world in general, as she knew it.
Graffiti covered walls slid past her version. There had been a time when these houses had been nice. When this neighborhood had been like her own. She wrapped her arms around her torso with a great chill. Whether or not this was from the cold or the thought of what time did to life she did not know. Either way, each step put an even greater chill in her heart. Each step brought her closer to her fate. To her life.
Only a week ago she would have revolted at the idea of being here. Or being outside in general. Nothing was more important to her than the materials around her. But now, nothing seemed to matter at all. Simply luxury. None of it mattered. Looking at what she was about to do. What she was about to find out, she now knew that she would never want again. Not really. Nothing was as important to her as the things she was trying to save.
Finally she came to the final corner. One last turn and then a straight stretch on. Last house on the right. It was amazing to her that she could now remember more than perfectly exactly what the small house had once looked like. She could remember exactly how to get there. Small flicks of memory raced through her mind as she paused in front of the little fork.
She could remember all of the countless times she had run through that front door. Her hair had been longer then. Her young frame had barely reached the doorknob. Her dresses had always been so long and beautiful. She couldn’t remember not wearing those dresses. She had never been allowed to. For the longest time she hadn’t even owned a pair of pants or shoes. Her little feet had always walked around that little front yard as bare as they could manage. Especially during the summer days. So warm. The grass so soft.
But those times were gone now. The neighboring houses were no longer bright and beautiful. The sky no longer held its original luster as time went by and more and more chemicals escaped into the once perfect and healthy atmosphere. The street was now cracked and barren. Despite the numerous times the city had attempted to better the neighborhood, you could feel just how tired the world here was.
One step came after the next increasingly gruesome step. If time could truly slow for anyone, this would be how it would feel. It seemed as though the road before her grew longer and longer. As if each step she took brought her farther backward instead of forward. But steadily she grew closer. Despite her reluctant nature, she knew it had to be done. And so she continued. She moved on and on. Step after step. Heartbeat after heartbeat, until finally, she came to the door.
The house seemed smaller than she had remembered. And definitely more filthy. Less beautiful. The walls were cracked and stained from age. The countless years of rain and wind had left the walls stripped of their paint and browned in the most ugly of fashions. Ivy grew up the side of the windows and doors making it impossible to see inside, though she could barely make out a layer of unsightly wood around the frames. The fence which created a boundary between the house and the rest of the world had begun to tilt and wither with age. The weight of the world finally catching up with its pale white surface. The stones leading up to the rotting narrow staircase were cracked and covered with ivy and a countless variety of weeds and fungi. If she hadn’t known better, she would have believed the house to be centuries old.
Taking a deep breath she lifted her hand. The deep red door looked so different despite its familiarity. An unsettled feeling settled in her stomach and she closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Wait. Inhale. Exhale. Knock.
She opened her eyes again as she heard the sound echo through the small house. No answer. She knocked again, this time with more confidence. Perhaps he wasn’t there. Maybe he really didn’t exist. Was it possible that everything could be false? Could everything just go back to normal? With this in mind she smiled and knocked a third and final time. If the third time really was the charm then she thought she may as well stop after three. But to horror, soon after the third knock, came the sound of footsteps.
Fear grasped at her heart as the steps became louder and more defined. They were slow but deliberate. No variation in the steady rhythm. Louder and louder they became until she doubted that they could become any more loud. But still the sound seemed to explode in her ears until finally, it stopped.
The door knob shook as though a lock were being jiggled out of place, and then it turned. The motion painfully slow and heart wrenching. With a creek the door swung itself open. A rush of heat escaped and hit her square in the face. The smell of herbs of numerous kinds blew into her flared nostrils. There in the doorway was a man.
He was tall. Not just tall though. Tall would be an understatement. She was sure that in order for him to walk through the doorway he would have to duck down at least five inches in order for his head to just barely make it under the frame. His broad shoulders greatly complimented this fact, giving him the appearance of a great bear on its hind legs. His dark hair was long and extremely shaggy, flowing down his shoulders in a great mop until it reached the mid of his muscular back. The clothes he wore were shaggy as well. Little more than oversized rags on his large body. The holes in his jeans revealed even more dark skin which was too covered in hair. His face was strangely beautiful and feminine despite its original masculine impression. The eyes a bright blue, lighter than water.
She stood in a daze. He hadn’t changed a bit. Not in all the years he had been absent from her life. He was still exactly the same. The hair was longer yes, the clothes more ragged, but he hadn’t aged at all. It amazed her, and at the same time terrified her.
He stared back at her just as she stared at him. His face calm to the extent of coldness. Though in his eyes was a play of emotions. Recognition, shock, confusion. But soon all of those things were hidden once more as he regained his cool exterior.
“Welcome home, Ella” he said. His voice a complete monotone. His eyes cut into her like knives. The word welcome seemed a contradiction to the feelings which escaped every pore of his body.
She simply nodded, an awkward smile on her fearful face, and squeezed herself through the door. Her memory of this place was extremely vivid now. She could remember what lay waiting behind every door, what lay in what closet. Even though everything seemed to have remained exactly the same, the changes were unmistakable. There was nothing pleasant about this place. It had once been a place to make happy memories. And it now held no more happiness than a grave.
Ella walked straight into the living room area. There was new furniture in the same places. With quick, nervous strides she moved her body until it was sitting upon a small rocking chair in the corner that faced the rest of the equally uncomfortable furniture. The wait with which occurred until he turned to follow her into the living area seemed a lifetime. The pressure building up in her chest threatened to blow as she once again heard his steady footsteps approaching her.
Once he had situated himself on the worn out couch facing her chair she sighed. This is what she had come all this way for. This is why she had journeyed so far out of her way. This is what she had to do.
“Hello father.” Was all that she could manage.
The air seemed to thicken as the tension did. He glared at her while she gazed past him. Neither really seemed to exist to the other, yet both were extremely aware of the others presence. His eyes seemed to burn into and she could more than feel their heat.
“Nathan…” she finally croaked. “we need to talk.”
His glare lessened and he let in a sharp breath “why did you come here?” was his dry, heartless reply.
“Like I said, we need to talk.” Her eyes shifted about the room as though she was searching for the nearest exit. “I seem to be… remembering things. Things I don’t think I’m supposed to be remembering.”
With a smile he nodded. The tension finally leaving his body. His great frame sitting back into a loose slouch. “Is that all? I thought your mother had kicked you out again.” His laugh echoed throughout the room. It was overly hearty this time and the room seemed to brighten with it’s sincerity.
“Again? My mother would never kick me out! Ever! Why would you think such a thing?”
Her shock seemed to surprise him. His expression changed to that of a question, one eyebrow raising up while the other lay resting below. This had obviously not been a reaction he had expected to hear.
This had all happened before he knew. But how he was to tell her that he didn’t know. Each time was different. Sometimes with tears, sometimes with anger. But before anything there was always the expected disbelief. Yes, he always enjoyed getting his daughter back again. But he still dreaded these visits.
“So, you say you’ve been remembering things? What kind of things?” he decided against jumping into explanations right away. Perhaps a new tactic would help his situation.
“Well, you for example. A couple months ago I started dreaming about you. My father. I hadn’t ever seen you before in my life, yet I seemed to know you from somewhere. I just knew I did.
“First you just showed up in the background of my dreams. Like a shadow. I would see just glimpses of your face and I knew that you were important to me in some way. But I could never quite put my finger on it. You would walk past the main things I would be dreaming about and I could feel myself stop everything. I could feel myself grasping at something I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Then you began to get more involved. Like a small part in a movie. You would have small lines in my dreams. Like asking for directions or asking for a bite to eat or money. But you were always asking me something. Whether it was something important or something small. The questions ranged from a dollar to the life of your child. Who I now know to be me…
“And finally you were the main character. Starting about three weeks ago you became the main character of my dreams. Besides me of course. You were always there. But it wasn’t really me I don’t think. It was like, a younger me. I was so small. So naive. I could never actually see myself. But I can remember looking up at you. I remember feeling such adoration. Such love. And that’s when I knew you were my father.”
She paused. Looking up to see if any emotion lay on the man before hers face. To see if he was comprehending what she was saying. But he only looked concerned and slightly bored. It was as if he had heard all of this before and was only worried about how his little girl would come out of it.
“After that the dreams became more vivid. And I felt as though I had seen them before. All of them. Every bit of every one seemed to have been lived before. By me. It was like watching home videos. They were memories. I knew and know that they were. Because after the dreams I started seeing them during the day.
“At first I just thought that they were day dreams. But then I realized that I could see them whenever I wanted. They would just pop into my head. I would be eating breakfast and I would see myself eating breakfast, here in this house. In that very kitchen!” she pointed to the room which connected to the one they were already sitting in where a short table and mismatched chairs sat piled with dirty dishes.
“They really are memories aren’t they? They really did happen?”
She waited for a response. Her father just sat with his hands pressed hard together. His fingertips white from the pressure. He had been through this conversation many times before. He knew the all the wrong ways to go about telling her. But the right way was what he was searching for.
With a heavy look in his eyes, Nathan Ghang looked up at his daughter and nodded.
“Yes.” He said, seeming to look for the right words, “they are memories. And they are yours.” A confused look spread across Ella’s face as her father sighed. “There something very important that I have to tell you. Again.”
 poi spinner · Sat Dec 26, 2009 @ 03:55am · 0 Comments |
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