Breathe again

Part 3: Resurrecting Fears

Writing is about conquering your fears.  It’s about putting onto paper the thing that you are most afraid to share.

I was afraid of my past.  There are things in our life that we can only hope we would forget.  I made my choice that day.  And I chose to run from all the things that could hurt me.  I was weak and already on the point of breaking down.  I didn’t need anything else that would burden my already dying soul.  So when I was given the chance to let go, I decided that I would choose myself.  I knew that one day; this decision would be the one thing that would haunt me.  In my haste to forget, I had done the thing I regretted most, to hurt the one who loved me.

Part 3: Resurrecting Fears

I stared at the calendar on the wall.  The number 18 was encircled, the night of the full moon.  I barely had 15 days to go before my imminent death. 

I sighed in defeat.  I thought of my life so far.  I don’t know if I’ve accomplished anything worth acknowledging.  I’m not successful in my chosen career path.  I scarcely have any money left in my bank account.  I don’t own a house or a car.  Were those the things that people valued?  Would I have lived in a different way if I had known that I was going to die in the next few days? 

“How are you doing?” a voice broke through my silence.  I turned around to gaze at my Aunt Romina. 

“Surprisingly, I don’t know.  I’m not angry.  I don’t understand what’s happening to me.  I don’t even really know you,” I felt bad.  This woman obviously cared for me and I could not even remember when we had first met. 

“I guess it’s time,” she said, taking a seat next to me.

“I know.  It’s the only way I could find them to try to fight this curse,” I met her brown eyes, the same color as mine.  “I need you to bring back my memories.  I need to find out what happened back then.”

“I wish there was another way,” Aunt Romina clutched both of my hands.  She led me to a bed in the middle of the room.  Beside it were three lighted candles, a bottle containing some type of oil and a large brown book.

I lay down on the bed.  She urged me to close my eyes and I could only hear her chanting something in an unknown language.  Even though I couldn’t understand what she was saying, I felt something different inside my body.  It was like a small flame was inside my head. 

I could feel her placing a few drops of the oil on my forehead and it only made the flame larger.  The heat was almost too much to bear.  I wanted to open my eyes and tell her to stop, but my mouth couldn’t move.  I realized that I couldn’t move any part of my body. 

I wanted to scream, but the flame just became larger and larger.  I squinted; there was something inside the flame.  I tried to get closer, feeling the slight burn around my body.  Yes, there was something blue and violet at the center of the flame.  It changed in shape every few seconds.  I reached out as far as I could.  The flames burned my arms.  The last thing I remembered was feeling a small object in my hands and then everything went dark.

It was the first day of the semester.  I could feel the heat and excitement of people around me, but all I wanted was to go back to a time when my parents were still with me.  My parents died on the last day of April; the day the Lilacs started to bloom.

I was sent to my only living relative, my mother’s half-sister.  My Aunt Romina was never close to our family. 

In my then, sixteen years of existence, I had only seen her twice and both were at funerals.  We had never spoken.  My mother made sure that I wasn’t in any direct contact with her during any of our time together.  I remember her telling me that my Aunt Romina did not like children.