Pieces

Bright lights, music, laughter, movement, it had all always surrounded me, yet for all of that I had always been left feeling alone.

Alone as I had always been, save for when someone would stop for a few moments to gaze upon me and to question me.

Some of the faces of those who questioned me had worn delighted grins of joy at my answers, but there were others whose faces bore a far different aspect, one of disappointment…and sometimes what could have almost been fear…

For I cannot lie, it is not the nature of who…and what…I am.

Day after endless day I had played out my lead role in a cage, for that is how I had come to regard that place where I had dwelt.

I had been there for so long, surrounded by so many but oh so very alone.

Never had I known a gentle touch, never had a loving glance cast my way, never heard a word of commiseration for my sorry plight.

And then, in but a seeming matter of mere months, the multitudes of people that had always surrounded me had begun to dwindle.

And then had come that dreaded day when the lights were shut off for the final time and I had been left totally alone, forgotten.

Every now and then a young one had come to visit me, out of curiosity, I guess, or on a dare, or because they were bored.

But they never stayed, and the lights remained darkened, the music and laughter silent.

The nights had been the worst, no sounds save those of insects and peeper frogs.

“Is there anybody out there?” I had called out, over and over, day after seemingly never ending endless day

I had watched as young lovers took momentary, fleeting comfort in each others arms…

And had seen the night the young female shot herself, had heard her sobs of anguish as she had gazed at a photograph of a young man for long moments before placing the gun to her head.

I had watched the look of absolute horror on the face of the young couple who had come about three weeks later and found her, I had heard their terrified screams as they had run from this place that had been both my home and my prison.

And I think, in looking back, that that had been the night I had realized…when I had found that I had felt nothing at watching that young female take her life, that I had become afraid to care…to hope…to dream of days of light and laughter…

I think that was the day I realized that I no longer cared…about anything.

Certainly not about the comings and goings of the few that now and then came to gaze upon me, even sometimes asking me questions I had no longer been able to answer…

Not about the fact that I had begun to fall apart, literally, a little more with each passing season as I sat there…

Abandoned…

Unwanted…

Alone.

Yes, I think, in looking back, that that had been the day I finally began to withdraw from all emotion…for I had become afraid to feel anything at all, really.

And I think that had been the day I began to lose my hold on reality…to drift in and out of awareness.

But ah! What is this commotion and hustle and bustle that has drawn me from my inner musings! I could swear I hear what sounds like people moving about and talking!

But no, it must have been my imagination playing tricks on me again, no one has come to visit in so very long.

And it as I ponder on just how long it has been since any came to visit me that I realize I don’t really care…that I’m comfortably numb…no longer tormented by those past feelings of being unwanted, unneeded…

In all truth, I no longer feel anything at all, nor do I even really care when I feel someone pick me up and begin to carry me away.

All I want to do is speak to someone just one more time.

And speak I do, just as they begin to lift me, focusing all of my energy into one final plea…

Only to watch as that plea falls onto barren ground as my abductors begin to carry me away.

And as they lift me, I feel things within me shift, out of sync, loose.

Joseph and Michael looked around the old fun house, shaking their heads as they turned to gaze at each other. Michael was the first to speak,

“Man, I still can’t believe this place is still standing. After all, I was only about seven when it shut down after they found the bodies of those transients beneath the floor of the storage shed where they kept the parts for all of the rides. Lord only knows how long the poor souls had been buried there, judging by the state the bodies had been in. And I heard that some of them looked like they had been dead far longer than others. It was quite the talk of the county for about the next five years.”

Joseph gave a shudder and looked around almost furtively as he replied, his voice almost a whisper,

“Yeah, the stories about the murders were bad, but it was the ones about what had been done to the bodies that still gives me nightmares when I think about it. I overheard my dad talking about it one night during one of his weekly drinking binges he passed off as a card game.”

Joseph paused for a moment to once more look around, almost as if expecting someone…or something…to jump out at him, then he continued, his voice dropping as if he were afraid of being overheard…

“I distinctly remember hearing my dad, who just happened to have been the police chief then, telling one of his buddies who had come over for the card game that all nine of the bodies they found had been decapitated, and their brains, hearts and liver’s were missing! Dad and his cronies had been hitting the booze pretty hard and I don’t think Dad had even realized he had been revealing confidential police business about a murder investigation…or that I had been fast asleep behind the couch in the room where they had been holding the card game. I woke up when I heard them talking, but couldn’t escape because they were between me and the door. I had been hiding from Jessica, my oldest sister, for she had been hassling me all day.”

Michael’s usually bright green eyes dimmed by what could almost have been described as a touch of fear as he thumped Joseph on the back, speaking in a tone of false lightness,

“Hey, fella, come on, enough with the morbid stuff already. That antique dealer the next town over paid us some pretty good money to come scavenge this place before the town demolishes it day after tomorrow. So let’s get to it! There must be tons of stuff that might be worth something to the old geezer!”

He heard their voices before he saw them, though he could no longer understand their speech…it had been too long and his memory had faded with the passage of time…

And with the jumble of the nine distinctly separate voices in his head, the first of which had come about five season’s passing before all the people had gone away. The voices had been cold and emotionless, as if they had had no heart.

He saw when the taller of the two moving about him turned and looked directly at him.

Michael turned back towards where Joseph had his back to him, calling out to him,

“Hey man, check this out! I remember this thing when my folks used to bring me here. I bet it would fetch a pretty penny from Kitsman. After all, everyone knows how dotty he is over anything to do with this place.”

As the two males walked up to him, he tried his best to ask them to help him, to set him free, but they either did not hear him or were ignoring him. All at once he felt himself move as they each got on either side of him and began to lift him…

And his head came loose, only the springs holding it in place.

As the two males began to carry him away, he made one last ditch effort to make them hear him, and watched as that final plea fluttered to lie on the thickly dust coated floor, unnoticed, unheeded, as the two males carried him from the only home he had ever known.

And as the dust stirred up by the movements of the men as they carried him away began to settle in their passing, it drifted down to gradually cover a small mechanical fortune teller’s card…

A card which read “Please, I beg of you, rearrange me ’til I’m sane.”

The Prompts:*

Is there anybody out there?

Lead role in a cage

I’m comfortably numb

Afraid to care

Rearrange me ’til I’m sane

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About MARANTHA DREAMWEAVER JENELLE

WRITER'S USE WORDS TO PAINT PICTURES ON THE CANVASES OF THEIR READER'S MINDS. marantha d. jenelle/aka 'maradjen'

8 responses »

  1. There you go doing the all in one thing again but you do it so well. Nice work Marantha.

  2. Very cool ending with the card! It was also interesting seeing the story from both perspectives.

    And welcome back to InMon!!! I was starting to get worried…We missed you. : )

  3. This is very sad, especially the beginning. Thanks for the read, Marantha! (Sorry my message starts in the middle. For some reason I can’t get over to the left to start this comment).

    • hello, sweetie, and thank you for the read. it’s not problem with the way the messaged relayed, it is just that sometimes the comment boxes act weird now and then. (guess they have pms or something!)

      I am sorry i haven’t been by more often, but i do try to keep up. i have been fighting major depression for a while now, ever since my only child, a child i died not once but twice trying to give birth to, told me that i was dead to her…that she never wanted to see or hear from me again…and that if i ever tried to contact her or see my grandchild she would file restraining orders against me.

      i am not, i fear, handling it well at all. it has even affected my writing, for it is hard to write from a heart that is drowning in tears and broken into a million pieces.

      i wish you all of the best and hope all is well with you.

      sending you a huge cyber hug and a little of the love none of my blood kin seem to want.

      maybe it will be more welcomed by you and the others here on wordpress than it is by my own kin.

      marantha

  4. pattisj says:

    I just realized I hadn’t read everyone’s InMon from last week, so I’m trying to catch up again. I see you managed to get in ALL the prompts! Hang in there, girl, we’re pulling for you.

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