Gone

Here I am. Overjoyed with my life and all the wonderful things that encompass it. Waking up each morning with a smile on my face knowing that today will be more marvelous than I can even imagine. Glad to be behind these high walls that I’ve spent a lifetime building to block out all the malice that is in the day-to-day life of this cruel world. I let them down a few times before to let people in, but then felt the immense ripping pain of the knife through my heart as they each left and I vow to never feel that pain again, no matter what it takes. There is only spot where it is safe to be without getting cut by the barbed wire, spikes, and sharp thorns that line both sides of all four walls and the roof. The reinforced concrete and thick steel plates that compose my fortress, my castle, my home to insure that I will never have to worry about someone getting in.

There is a camera in the very top corner that points down at me, to allow those I trust to see me. A screen in front of where I eternally sit, allows me to see the world. I have been staring at my toes for a while trying to move each one individually, but unable to do so. I look up at the screen and my breath is taken aback. His beautiful face appears, and happiness pours into my body like a warm rushing river. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him that I love him and that he means the world to me, I still have to tell him more. It’s as if nothing is ever enough, because he can’t even fathom all the pain and misery that he makes me forget by just being near me, the ecstasy I feel every time I hear even the faintest whisper of his name. He has my soul, the very fiber of my being and I am nothing… nothing but a person behind a wall without him. The times in between our meetings are the cloudy nights that long for the moon and stars that otherwise fill it creating a portrait so beautiful and awe-inspiring words simply fail to describe.

It is raining outside; it’s been raining for days. It is so heavy that it’s hard to see more than a few inches in any direction. I like to watch it from the safety of my dwelling as it cleanses the Earth from the build up of dirt and filth that piles up during the dry cycles. I feel myself smile just seeing it shoot down from the sky as waterfall and I am reminded of happy times. My mind drifts from memory to memory, as I listen to the steady stream hit the ground and I make a wish that the world could always be as joyful as my memories.

Without warning, a roaring sound comes rushing towards me. I open my eyes to see that the massive amount of rain has caused the ground to lift from its bed and dance about. People scream and run for cover, but I am protected, out of harm's way inside these walls that I built. I monitor to make sure that everyone I care about has made it to shelter, and I am pleasantly rewarded with their smiling faces saying ‘hello’ to me by merely looking in my direction and I feel the warm from their love for me as if someone has just turned on a radiator to full blast.

Something cold and moist touches the top of my head and rolls down my ear. It takes me a few seconds to figure out what it is. Several feet above me, there is a crack that the foul smelling ooze from this mudslide is creeping into from. I am upset, but I am unharmed. I can handle getting a little dirty while the storm passes I suppose; besides there is no way I can fix it now. It is far above my head and there is no way to get there without injury because of all the roughness on the walls. For now, I try my best to ignore it. There is no use fretting over something that cannot be changed.

The rain has not slowed down and everyone has sought out for higher ground. They are all still in good health and their only concern is my well-being. The trickle of mud has now from a small pool on the ground below me, but beyond that, I am well. I reassure them that I will be right here waiting for them, when this weather has past. I wonder just how long that will be, while the storm rages on.

The few drips that were coming through have now become a gentle flow into my abode. Only my knees and my chest stick out from the viscous solution of all things outdoors. I know if it continues I’ll have to encounter cuts from the walls as I stand up to keep my head above the swirling bits of twigs, grass, and various other matter that should be outside on the ground not in here parading about as if celebrating their new found freedom.

The valley is filled with this brown muck. Whole houses, trees, and hills have been drown by its massive volume. I built my walls higher than conceivable, and yet somehow it has surpassed the top. The pressure has made the gentle flow become a steady stream and my hands sting from having to press them against the briery sides in order to keep my head such that I can breathe. I feel the iciness chilling me to the core of my body as my waist is slowing being overtaken by this malicious entity.

I struggle to stay afloat as liquid pours in at an alarming rate. It has started pulling at the supports of my siding causing bits of barbed wire and thorns to fly down at me like bombs falling from planes in the sky during another pointless war and I am one of the innocent civilians running for my life, having to zigzag back and forth to avoid being hit. Swimming is a struggle because the mud is so thick, but I know I can endure this, I just need to keep hanging on. I’m about half way up and the crack is still several arms spans above me. Why did I make these walls so high? How did a crack get through all that cement and steel? Questions that I don’t have time to answer right now.

The flow has slowed down now that I have risen above the crack. I no longer have to worry about being struck by falling debris. I’m only a few feet from the top and I pray to whomever it is up there (if there is someone up there) to make this abomination stop once and for all. My muscles ache, as they have never endured such an intense regiment before. Hope that the levels will not rise much more, for I’ll be trapped by the ceiling, is all I think about now.

I know the camera is still on, I wish it wasn’t, but it is. Watching my every move with its unblinking eye, displaying it to the world my epic battle for survival. Who is watching me now, I can only imagine. I don’t want to be shown like this. I don’t want people to pay attention only because I’m dying. If they wanted to get to know or even see me, there was plenty of time before this wrath of the Earth was unleashed upon us. So badly, I want to turn it off or at least turn it away but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, it’s determined to keep monitoring every little thing I do, every breath I take.

My head is scraped and scratched by the prickly ceiling and I begin wondering why I built these walls of damnation in the first place, but I needed them. I needed them to protect me from her, that vile monstrosity that I could not escape despite my best efforts. Why did she have to hurt me so? why couldn’t she just except me for what I am? I could be happy if I wasn’t in this self-made prison that she forced me to build. I could be happy if it wasn’t for her and her damn ‘values’. WHY?!?!!?

My hands and face are bleeding and tears are rolling down my face. My wounds sting from all the dirt and debris that is filling them. This however is one of the last things on my mind. I just want to be left alone. Desperately I try to point the camera away, “DON’T LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M LIKE THIS!!!! JUST LET ME BE!!!” I scream out. It only attracts more people to watch as I fight with every ounce left in me to stay above what is becoming my emanate death. My friends cry out for me, they love me. I know that, but love cannot save me now. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I want them to remember the happy times we had together, not to remember me like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

There is but a few inches of air left. I turn my head to get a quick breath of air before I return to my watery tomb. I don’t know why I’m still hanging on; I won’t be saved. I go to get another breath of air only to find that the air is gone. I fall and my lungs begin to swell with this relentless curse. In my final moments of consciousness, I hear the roof being torn off. Someone has come to save me, but it is too late, I am gone.


By Julie Sunshine Emerick