> The solitude hides behind the silence like her words hide behind the memories I can only sometimes remember. I am not sure if it was the storms or the dreams that caused sleep to end, but it doesn't matter either way. The dreams are merely faces of the past, and the storms are the promises of the future. Here I am stuck in the middle of what was and what will never again be. On nights like tonight she always said to just breathe; sometimes breathing is harder than it looks. I don't dare turn on the lights, I don't dare try to move, so in silence I stare on the black ceiling. I have so many more scars than I care to count from all the fights I should've never fought. Maybe that is why I can't remember the dreams, they were never meant to become memories.
> She knew I was always cold, and would always remember to bring a coat in her bag. It seemed I would always forget to bring one. It was her smile when she would pull out the coat I remember, not how I was suddenly warmed. I am not sure how she was able to get to know who I really was, but she did. The last few nights I had this fear, it was somewhat irrational, but aren't all fears irrational? What if she was nothing more than a Robert, just trying to save who she thought I was supposed to be. What if she saw someone she could save, so she should save them? I am not saying her love wasn't real, only it was tainted with pity, and fueled by regret. I know I had regret from the time before when I tried to love. Was she nothing more than the Lizzy I tried to leave behind all those years ago?
> It doesn't matter that the storm had ended, the darkness still remained. The clock on the wall hasn't moved, but then again neither have I. It makes no difference rather I lay here in an empty bed, or sit in an empty apartment. I've never felt so empty, and so lonely. It was the emptiness that hurt the most. Loneliness can be cured with a good book, or a good record, but nothing cures emptiness. As the memories I've tried to forget so long ago come back to life, I can see The Old Man's face, from that summer. It was hard and soft, broken and empty. His eyes were hollow, and so sad. I had left without a single word, without a letter, without a reason, never wanting to see that bastard again. Robert tried to tell of all the changes he went through, and how I wouldn't even recognize him.
> It was always just like Robert to try and defend the ones he thought were defenseless. After all of these years, this anger fits just like a glove. I should've killed him when I had a chance. It was his fault I had to run away from Lizzy, it was his fault I learned how to fight, and it was his fault that I wanted to die. He was to blame for the worst parts of who I became. I can see the moon now, with its glowing embers showing from just behind the clouds. I am still in bed there is no reason to get up just to pretend to live for another day. It was the last fight I had with him that I am thinking about now. It was that fight that he stopped before he could get angry, but I didn't have a chance to let go of the anger inside. Maybe he stopped himself from becoming a monster, but I became one that night.
> When you feel like you have nothing to hold onto, you let go of everything. I want to scream into the silence, scream just so there is a sound, but it is no use. What would she say? Does it even matter, her voice will never be heard again. I got to love her in this lifetime, and that was so much more than I deserved. There are some things in life that can't be avoided and as I age I am able to avoid them less and less. I turn on the light, and still shut the door. The only thing in her life she wanted to be kept private was what happened in the bathroom, so we kept the door shut. As I go to leave, under the mirror is a picture, and I can't stand seeing the smile. I rip the picture off of the wall and throw it against the wall. The glass shatters, but the smile remains, that damned smile.
> If I can't be happy now, I would rather not be happy then. No one would ever choose to love, if they truly understood the cost of love. A fool once said: "it is better to have loved and lost, then to never love at all." That fool had never been in love, for if they had, they would know the pain of losing love is too much for any soul to bear. When I walked away from Lizzy, it was simple, sudden, and it ended what should have never been. But when she died, it was just as sudden, but it wasn't simple, it was violent. It may have ended what never should have been, but she had promised to love until death. I always thought I would be the one to die, so I would never have to lose her. After all of these years of fighting against death, it got the last laugh, and I got the final tear.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts' of November
Historical Fiction"Ghost's of November" is a haunting exploration of love, loss, and the relentless pursuit of redemption. The story delves into the life of a protagonist who is trapped by memories of a troubled past, seeking peace in a world that offers little solac...
