Bits and Pieces

Florentine and Me

If there was ever a time to fear that something bad would happen to you, it would be on Saint Florentine's Day. Few people know of it's existence and even fewer understand the significance. Most would think it's just a day named after a dead woman named Florentine. They wouldn't be wrong, but that's not the whole truth. You see on the 27th of April things happen inexplicably. All the painful things that happen to us as human beings seem to happen in a vastly greater number on Saint Florentine's Day. You may think it is a bad day for the average man or woman, but you have no idea who I am.

My name is Genevieve McCauley, my mother is a strong believer in the more skeptical things in our world, ironically enough and something happens to me on that particularly awful day, and even my mother has never heard or read anything about it. Sometimes and only then, I feel others' pain.

This time I took things into my own hands, last year I found that in a specific area about a twenty minute drive out of town, the agony became weaker, my terror with it. It's Saint Florentine's Eve today and I am going to make for this strange and special spot, all on my own. When I stepped out of the door my heart stopped for a second, a seemingly long and difficult one. Regardless, I gathered my lacking courage, and stepped out into the chilly dusk.

It wasn't long until I was out in the countryside, but the fear still bit at me like the unseasonably cool breeze. To take my mind off of a terror unexplainable, I stared at the sky. The clouds were soft, caressing the sky - almost. I think that was the moment where my eyes and my mind started wandering off together. I came up with the tragic life of a deflated and torn balloon and the comedic adventures of little birds, whose chirping dominated every other sound. At this time of year the colours of Spring are dulling into the conformity of Autumn and Winter. I'm sure a red standard peg would be as colourful as it gets in these parts. A lovely distraction it all was until the weight of the bag draping over my shoulder brought me back to reality, reminding me of the way I truly feel. Frankly, it is worse than terrified. It is a vile dread, that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. But who knows what this time will be like.

Finally, finally, finally! I can see that lone tree on the hill and it's branches, fingers and webs. A tall shadow it would have casted earlier today, but the darkness has set itself in for the night. I know I'm not there yet, but relief is reacting with the fear in my body. Like a chemical reaction - both are canceling each other out, and all I'm left with is raw helplessness. Me.