Whisper

Chapter 4, Memories

I lift my head up, cringing at the sharp pain that it brings. I bring my hand to my head in an attempt to ease the pain, but it doesn't help. As I take my hand away from my head I find that it is covered with something wet, rain. In an attempt to view my surroundings, I stumble to my right, but I can't seem to find the door. Swehing, I put my hand towards the wall to steady myself, I stumble and fall when I find that it isn't there.
Pushing myself off the stone floor with my palms, I look at the empty air before me trying to remember where I was. Watching a bolt of lightning illuminate the sky, I see the faint outline of a few short buildings in the distance. Remembering that I went to investigate a piece of property. I must have fallen asleep by mistake. Flipping on the flashlight in my bag, I find that the substance on my hand is not water but blood.
Dismissing the injury, knowing that I have more important things to worry about, I angle the flashlight away from me, and observe my surroundings. I shuffle my way through the mess of old bins and bags, making my way towards the collection of magazines and loose papers sitting atop an old wooden crate.
As I lift my foot over a dead mouse, I notice that most of the papers are pretty weathered, with the ink faded away from countless years of neglect.
Picking up a sheet of paper, I examine it, making out a few words here and there. From what I could tell it seemed to be a calendar of some sort. Looking through the pile, I take one of the pages hidden at the bottom. As I turn it over in my hand, I find that it is torn, but unlike the previous page, the print was visible, allowing me to read it. The paper had several notations along a few of the boxes throughout the page that were added on by someone. Holding the sheet in my hand, I see that this was not a calendar, but a chart, inscripted with numbers, and dates. As I look around me I see that the stalls behind me have a rectangular gap behind them. Recalling this same feature in a barn, that had been a farm that my parents brought me to as a kid, a wave of realization hits me. This must have been a dairy farm.
Rummaging through the pile, I find an old family photo. I see five people in the snapshot, two boys about the ages of five and ten, a girl a little younger than I am, and a smiling couple, bringing the others together with their arms, standing along the road in front of the building that I am in now. Smiling at how happy they all seem, I admire the unique look of the filter used in the photo. Turning the photo over in my hand I see a single notation of the date on which it was taken, June 9, 1972.
After digging around in a few other bins, I discover that there aren't just farm supplies in this old barn, there are also sentimental items here as well, like children's toys, and more old photos, featuring the same people as in the one that I'd recovered earlier. Inside of the bin that I just recently opened up, there seemed to be an endless mound of sheets and blankets hiding beneath the lid.
I snap open the grey top to the plastic bin that lies in front of me. I look down into the space, only to find that there is only a blanket, and a fuzzy brown teddy bear staring back at me. Shifting the bin to the floor, I take a look at the bin identical to the one that I had just examined. As I lift the lid from its place atop the plastic container, I find that it contains quite a bit of stuffed animals. I pause for a moment, as something towards the bottom catches my eye.
Reaching into the bin, sticking my hand between the masses of stuffed animals, I pull out a hand from underneath. This hand was a hand of a porcelain doll that had been hidden away, or lost all of these years. I hold the light to its face wincing, as it seems that its eyes just blinked. I realize that it must have just been my own eyes playing a mean trick on me. I stare once again into its glossy eyes, admiring its rosy cheeks, and perfect eyelashes. I run my fingers down its smooth arm and pat the silky dress that she is wearing. Turning the doll over in my hand I find that all seems to be in order with the doll. However there is something about it that just gives me an uneasy feeling.
Placing the doll atop the rest of the velvety stuffed animals, I close the lid, and place the identical bin on top. Making my way to the next cluster of boxes I look over to the entrance, and see that there is now a bit of color in the sky, symbolising that it will soon be dawn, and I will be able to continue on my way. I steady myself on a nearby pole, and turn to see what I may have stumbled over. I am greeted by a pair of green eyes.
I look down angling the flashlight towards my gaze, the pair of green eyes appear to belong to a cat. The cat's jet black fur stands on end, as it opens its mouth letting a long, and terrifying hiss. Yes I know, a cat hissing at you is not terribly frightening, but if you throw in my situation anything is enough to make me jumpy. As I watch the creature, I see that it has begun to walk towards me. Nervous, I angle my foot to discourage it from coming any closer. It appears to have taken the hint. I continue to stare at it, fascinated by its silky looking coat. The cat is now crouching low to the ground, springing up it lands close to my shoe, and it swats at my ankle.
Shooing the cat away with my hand, I accidentally whack its face. Retreating, the cat gives me a final glare, before slipping around the corner. Turning my attention back to the cluster of bins, I take one from the top, and examine its contents, not much, a few old baseballs, as well as some matchbox car, and a random throw pillow. Looking at the pillow more closely I see that it has lettering on it, it reads,home is the place we are now, not where we were in the past. Confused by the quote, I turn to the baseball and investigate the worn leather. Normal, and boring.
Lifting off the lid of the bin underneath, I find that it contains more sheets, and blankets. I find that the majority of the rest of the bind contain blankets as well. Remembering that I still have the books in my bagI seat myself upon one of the blanket filled bins, and take one out and trace my finger along the spine. Doing the same with the back I turn it over revealing the silver lettering on the front. Holding my flashlight with my left hand, I open the cover with my right, and begin to read.
My eyes fill with tears as I read the published works of William E. Stone. I now know the reason behind all of the untold secrets, why people n my family act the way they do. They act out of shame, the same shame that they feel should have been felt by their ancestors. I am not one of them, I am different, I don't belong to a name, I belong to myself.
Turning towards the entrance, I can see the sun, just barely peeking above the trees, its golden rays licking at the clouds, causing them turn to a peach like color. I walk towards the doorway, letting my long caramel hair drape down the sides of my forearms, and down my back. I just stand there in silence, letting the sun shine in my eyes, my blood streaked hair flowing behind me.
Disturbing my moment of peace, I step forwards, and hop back over the fence, heading back the way I came, the dew covered grass showering my legs. As I turn to face the road I see that the raging waters of the river over lap onto one of the dips along the roadway, knowing that if I were to attempt to cross, the water would be up to my knees, and I would be swept away in its strong current. Turning the other way, I walk further along the road, hoping that it intersects with another.