Dream to Fire chapter 6

Time.

The time keeper on the wall goes on no matter what end comes. Clock-time does not care about pain, nor pleasure. The god of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years and ages is just the keeper of things, not their judge, jury, or executioner. The time that dwells in digital, mechanical realms has no emotions, no thoughts, no meaning beyond its neutral little ticks and tocks. The calender of boring predictions will press on and on, and it will never care what anyone chooses, what path they might be going down, or what realms might be explored. What anyone hates or loves, ignores or does, decays or becomes. Clock-time is but a teller of that which people are told they must hear, while its Sister’s voice is a silken forbidden whisper upon the hidden places of the modern day and night. Spirit-time is priceless, transformative, and immortally available only within places the world of profits is designed to hide.

Sounds are falling. Sounds those lost in the world of paradox paradigms insist are nothing more than mechanical accidents. Sounds created from an unseen natural sky. Each one on an actually sacred, yet apparently worthless, short quest to land upon a modern sharp angled barrier, and sing a beautiful song for something more than slumber. Darkness outside square see-through protection is repeatedly cut and healed by the endless drops of an impossible heaven’s rain. The air inside is forcibly peaceful, and injected with machine’s warmth. Thoughts and emotions, wishes and nightmares, the journey and the mundane, are all alike in being held back by the dam of fate’s brutally delayed outcomes. A device of sight and sound tells its silly little vision of things people are caring less and less about, as two people who still love each other after all their years and experiences together do what they can to go on in love, purpose, and connection.

George’s hearing aid is out.

“George, would you turn that down please?” Patricia says, loud enough he should have heard her.

“Eh?”

She clicks the TV off, and hands him his hearing aid. “George, we need to talk.”

“Alright dear.”

She walks into the kitchen, and he gets up from his reclining chair to follow her.

“Something about dinner?” George says.

“No. It’s been three weeks…” Patricia places a hand over her heart.

George’s hug stops her from crying again. His voice is soft and understanding, yet stable and assuring, “She’s okay. Wherever she is, she’s okay. She’s a strong girl, and she’ll be back when she’s ready. We have to trust her note Patricia.”

“I know, I just.”

“Patricia look at me. She’ll be fine, and she’ll be back. Let’s eat dinner, say our prayers, and enjoy the evening. I love you.”

“I love you. You’re right.”

They both finish cooking and preparing their homely meal. Even though there’s still left-overs in the fridge. They sit in their lonely seats, and take a moment of silence to say there own personal prayers. Giving as much thanks as they can muster.

George goes to take his first bite—but there’s a knock at the door.

Patricia’s face lights up like it has at every knock at the door for the last three weeks. But this time she knows it’s different. She rushes over to the door and pulls it open to reveal the rainy night. And her granddaughter.

Fy’s ears stand out against the soaked strands of her flattened fiery hair, as if they were beautiful human wings taking flight against a storm of cold nocturnal pain. The flow of her tears overpowers the flow of rain upon her face. “I’m so sorry Grandma.”

Patricia ignores the rain, but not the tears, as she hugs her granddaughter tight.

“You don’t have to apologize about a thing.”

“I love you,” Fy says.

“I love you. Now get your ass back in this house!” They both manage a chuckle, and Fy comes back inside her new home.

“About time you showed up. Patricia was one step away from going out in the middle of the night with a lantern looking for ya,” George says.

Everyone chuckles, and he hugs his granddaughter. He says, “I love ya Fy. Now, come on, dinner is served and I know you must be hungry for a home cooked meal. Do you need to change first?”

“No, I’m hungry.”

“Let’s eat than.”

Fy ignores her soaked clothes, but not her grumbling stomach. They take their seats. Three in total now. She forces a quick thank you prayer before she immediately chows down like she hasn’t eaten in days.

“Honey, slow down. This isn’t the military. You’re at home,” Patricia says.

Fy nods, breathes, and takes her time. They let her eat for a while longer. George looks to Patricia, and she says everything back with her eyes. They let their granddaughter eat before saying anything.

George finally says, “Fyrona, we need to tell you something. Before you think about the wrong things. I’m so sorry dear.”

She finishes a bite, her appetite no longer overwhelming. “What is it?”

“After you left the funeral, Justin thought that you abandoned him. And, he has left you for that girl, Katherine. I’m so sorry.”

Reality is there. Fy is way out over here. “Figures. It’s okay though. I don’t think we would have worked out, in the long run anyway. All, the best for him.”

Patricia says, “I’m so sorry dear. I know you two loved each other. We are here for you though, and we always will be. Please, don’t run away again. We’ll give you all the space you need. You know that. You will always have a home here.”

Fy is about to say something, but she just breaks down. She cries as she hugs her grandparents, desperate to hang on to the only remaining center from her otherwise shattered life.

The TV is still turned off.

* * *

Every day feels like a lifetime wasted when the magic of life has left. But the cycle of days and nights, and days and nights, presses on and on, from dusks to dawns, with no consideration for an always dark depression. Little by little, tear by tear, depression shifts away as a young mind grows into an awakened heart that now knows of both good and evil.

Fy lives at her new home with her grandparents. They sell her old house. There are just too many unbearably beautiful memories there. She tries to find the strength to help move everything out, but she can’t. Others do almost all of the work.

She quits school and gets her GED. Instead of spending time learning for a single test, she spends her time on her heart, mind, and body—her Self. Acquiring knowledge that will remain with her far beyond a single test.

She says her farewells to Justin, and wishes him the very best. There’s no hard feelings between them, they’re simply going their separate ways. She’ll always have a spot for him in her heart, but they don’t talk anymore.

She cries when she doesn’t even know why, contemplates things she can’t yet understand, and seeks out answers from every source she stumbles upon. Many months pass by that are only tracked by her walks outside, by her time spent beyond the walls of her sanctuary tear-saturated room. The summer approaches the unknown edges of frozen tomorrows, and a depressing Sun begins to fade down into the depths yet again. The leafs change color, but they don’t change a damn thing as they fall into the fates of crushing boots and spinning wheels from a faraway world gone crazy, stuck in the profitable madness to get nowhere now. Maybe if she ignores the man-made minutes she can grasp the Nature-made moments of spontaneous love, that somehow keep eluding her, despite her every effort to inject joy and push away the relentless assault of authentic sadness. Her Guardians understand though, and give her all the space, and all the hugs, that she needs to survive in these unknown underworlds of endless loss. The healing cold of lonely nights and the sweet void of dreamless sleeps are found somewhere between elusive snow and strange streetlights.

But the Sun must rise again, and so it does. The clock is forgotten when Nature tells the time. But the clock is remembered nearly every day by almost the whole wide world, and so she can’t ignore it forever.

The only human beings the she-hermit regularly speaks with are her grandparents. After many lonely nights and across many long walks, over two years, she matures into a beautiful woman.

Fy eventually finds a way to say hi to the world. A way that will command attention, a way that will spark controversy, a way that will rock the world’s dubious foundations.

Chapter 7