Whisper

Chapter 7, Past Events

Standing in silence I catch a glimpse of the one who has been following me along my journey. She wears a long gown, with no shoes. I become consumed in the feeling of awe as I notice that she is very familiar to me. Realizing that I have scene her before, I reach towards her, as if to be on her to come with me. However it is because of that very same person that I am even here, Maggie.
She sees my gesture and runs from it. Heading into the woods, I chase after her. As we race each other to an imaginary finish line, I can catch glimpses of one of her feet or the spinning of leaves as she turns in different directions. It seems that no matter how fast i go, she is always ten paces ahead of me. She slips behind a tree and just as I round the corner, she simply vanishes.
Looking around me, I can't seem to find the slightest clue as to where she went, but I find none. Stunned, I begin to wonder whether she wants to be found. Of course there is a reasonable explanation to this, I just have not thought of it yet. Got it, I think as I remember that she too has not eaten or slept in the past week and a half. My current working theory on why Maggie refused to come back to Pines is that, she is probably just a little bit delirious.
Seeing as though I am most likely next to fall into that pattern, I search through my bag looking for something to eat. I find that I have half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and three sticks of mint gum. Deciding that I should save the sandwich for later, I pop one of the few pieces of gum into my mouth, and savor its fresh taste.
Stepping backwards I find that I am somewhat lost, in being that I have no clue as to where it is that I am.
I look around me, trying to recognize anything along the edge of the clearing. Of course it just figures that I don't, and so I mark my standing position with a broken branch, and turn to one direction and start walking.
I stroke the soft fur of my new pet, as I walk on the forest. I slip him back into my pouch, and open the small flap. I laugh softly as I see a small pink nose wiggle its way into the opening. I watch as the fuzzballs head emerge soon after, then go back in when I hand it a small fragment from a cracker that I had in my pocket.
I end up walking about two hundred paces before deciding that it is most likely a good idea to head back to the clearing. As I turn around, I find that this could have not been the correct way that I came, due to the giant crevice that I don't seem to recall. Turning towards the old oak tree that I do in fact remember seeing, I continue on my way back to where I last saw Maggie.
Getting a bit lonely, I open the second flap of the pouch hanging by my side, and hold up the fuzzy creature that was inside. Stroking the chipmunks soft fur, I realize that I still have yet to give it a name. Going through the popular pet names that I've heard over the years, I decide that this little creature should have its own personal reference, not a reused one from a dog or a cat.
Running out of names to consider, I begin to recall some children's books that I've read in the past I compare the names of characters in the storybooks to the furballs cute little face. As I do this I am brought back to those same years, as I remember the events in my past that I've tried to forget. I begin to drift into thought, remembering my long lost little brother that I used to play with every day.
I sigh as I remember the last Tuesday that I had seen my brother alive. I become consumed in the thought, as I remember the events of the following morning. I stormed out of the house, breathing heavily. Tears welled up in my eyes as I run towards the sidewalk. I ran three blocks before I had begun to walk. My eyes filled with tears so much so that I couldn't see a thing. The little drops of salted water raced down my cheeks one by one hitting the ground. Wiping them from my face, my vision clears and I see that I have arrived at Point Park.
I sit and watch as the ghostly memories replay themselves before my eyes. I collapse onto the wood chips as I watch the last one fade away. I sit there, alone, weeping. A hand touches my shoulder, I look up and expect to see my mother, but instead I am greeted with the wrinkled face of an elderly man. He says to me in a soft tone,"Why do you sit here all by yourself crying." As he finishes he sits down besides me. I put my arms around him and begin to cry on his shoulder. I reply in nothing more than a whisper,"My brother, he won't never wake up, he died." When I finish, I find that the tears stream down my face harder than they did before.
I sat there crying for about ten minutes on that man's shoulder, mourning over my recent loss. Eventually the man picked me up off of the ground, and carried me back to my house. Now I look back to the night before when I went downstairs for a snack. My brother was with me when I went down, but not when I went back up. I remember faintly that there was infact a bottle that was on the countertop, just a small prescription, nothing that would harm a normal person.
In the police report, it is mentioned that he died from ingesting the whole bottle of insomnia medication. Part of me still wonders if I could have stopped it from happening. Only, I was six, and so was he. He should've known better than to swallow the whole thing, after all I did and he was my same age.
I miss him from time to time, after all I wouldn't have been able to live life without him, we depended on each other for everything. Of course, I wouldn't have expected anything less, after all he is practically my other half. We were fraternal twins, we looked like we could be identical twins if you caught us in a photo on the right day.
I smile as I remember all of the great times that we had together. Recalling the first memory I had I find that he was indeed a very big part of my childhood, before and after his being deceased. I remember playing tag with him on the playground, and when we used to go and get ice cream afterwards. I let a faint chuckle escape my mouth as I remember the funny waiter that would serve us.
The man wore his hair in a small ponytail, and he would always make us shoot our chocolate milk out of our noses when we laughed so hard at the jokes that he told us. His smile was slightly crooked from his obvious discomfort of having braces. I remember that the funniest thing about him was that he would always wear two completely different shoes on his feet, as well as at least one or two pairs of mismatched knee socks. Danny and I made a pact that when we were his age we would do the same thing. I think that we just admired his individuality.
Hearing an odd noise coming from beneath my feet I snap back into reality. I look towards my feet and see that I am stepping on what looks like a few old planks of wood. I quickly became fascinated by how flush the planks are, as if they are glued together. Not daring to get a sliver from the splintered wood, I avoid touching it, but I move the surrounding leaves, only to find that the planks are level with the ground as well as partially buried in the black soil.
Continuing to pick at the edges I find that the overall shape of the planks is circular. Looking at the unique patterns on the wood I find that the planks have been rotted to the point that the wood looks like it has scales almost. As I turn my attention back to the cluster of trees ahead of me I hear a loud creak and then I become swallowed by the ground beneath me.