Lacrimosa (Scomiche)

Tempus

Those first few years were beyond agonizing.

Imagine all will to live just completely gone.  Imagine an unbearable ache in your heart that never fades ...   and no way to end it.  Hopelessness, loneliness, sorrow...   those were my companions as I wandered the earth.

I never stayed in one place too long, the questions always too frequent, suspicion a necessary evil in those times.  I began to use my surname as my first name and after awhile I adopted the surname of the very first man who was kind to me in my many travels. I became Richard Hoying, trying to leave behind the man I had been, the man who had lost everything. 

I worried for the wife and daughter I left behind, but I would have done more harm than good had I stayed. I wasn't exactly in my right mind, my sanity only an intermittent luxury.

The years crawled by.  Everything around me changed, the scenery, the people always different, but yet I remained the same. Every time I caught my reflection in a mirror it was another reminder that this was my forever. There was no end. My face never wrinkled, never aged. Yet another reason I was forced to keep moving, unable to have a home, unable to form friendships...  unable to be anything except an invisible nomad. I was nothing...   no one.

Even after 15 years alone the thought of another man's body left me empty.  I tried of course, desperate for distraction even knowing it wouldn't do much to ease my heartache, but I tried. I always ended up in tears when it was over,  the memory of what I'd once had clearer than ever and the guilt was an angry, bitter pill.

I began to speak to him. I began to hold conversations with a ghost as if it were a normal thing to do. I'd hole up in whichever inn or boarding house I could find and I'd spend hours pretending that he was still there beside me with those knowing eyes and that sharp tongue. The carved wooden horse would always sit watching as I slept and every night I would tell him I loved him and that I missed him. Every night I would cry again, the pain still razor sharp every time I imagined I could hear his laugh or see his smile, but still I made sure that the last thing I saw before sleeping was the carved horse and I could sleep without nightmares.

I continued on because I had no choice. I lived in the fantasy world I'd created for myself, trying to find a way to keep existing. With lead feet and a broken heart I continued on.

I'd endured just over 22 years of neverending heartbreak and I'd nearly reached my breaking point. I cried night after night, begging the universe to let me die, begging a man who wasn't there to release me from this curse, but still I continued on. I began to drown my sorrows in ale and pain. I would go from tavern to tavern and provoke the meanest man I could. I could feel it, every blow, every cut, until it came with the intent to kill. Something always interrupted before it could get that far, no matter what.  I just wanted to die. I needed an out.

I had remained in the last town for far too long. I traveled for days until I came upon a new place. The village was small, quite poor by appearance.  The innkeeper was a kind man and I gave him twice what the room was worth with the agreement of no questions.  The room was small but comfortable nonetheless.

My first stop, as always, was the local tavern. It was loud and reeked of alcohol and sweat and straw. It didn't matter. The numb came in pints and I was happy to indulge.

I probably should have waited to start my usual routine of picking a fight, but I was past the point of intelligence. I stood with a half full glass of ale and 'accidentally' stumbled into a large man whose face was dark with dirt and filth, my glass emptying its contents onto him.

I smiled like a madman when the fist connected with my face, and relished the pain as I was tossed into a nearby table, my body rolling to the floor.  I could hear voices, my love's ringing in my ears.  That was familiar. I always heard his voice in my head, reprimanding me for my weakness, but I did it anyway if only to hear his voice one more time.