Saturday, February 11, 2012

It Was This Way

                                                                              
                                                                                                                       
          Isabelle ran into the field, not stopping until she was surrounded by the clover filled pasture. She loved the scent of a new spring, it arrived softly, cool, and invisible. The wind carried it as one would carry a delicate flower.  Everything looked new; the grass, the flowers, the blue sky. She felt so alive. Across the field she saw a man walking toward her, he was too far away to recognize… but she knew who it was. “I hoped you would be here,” she whispered. Isabelle knelt to pick wildflowers; tying blades of grass around the stems to make a small bouquet, breathing in the fragrance of lavender.
          Minutes passed like a gentle sigh; she lifted her face to greet the man, he was running toward her, waving his arms and shouting. A sudden heaviness fell, stilling the air. The earth rumbled. She stood panic stricken, not knowing what to do. She waved to the man, “Hurry,” she whispered. The ground rolled… she fell. The old Oak tree that stood in the middle of the field was thrown to the ground, its giant limbs spread as in a last wave. The earth shuddered again like it was trying to shake something off its back. Isabelle looked toward the street, telephone poles swayed; they looked like giant toothpicks, but went down like dominoes, one following the other. The power lines snapped like rubber bands. The ground moaned sending the poles rolling down the hill. She got on her hands and knees and started crawling toward the street.
          She heard someone calling to her, “Isabelle, stay where you are!” She could see her mother standing on the porch, and watched in horror as the house fell. “She’s okay, she made it out in time,” Isabelle groaned. The earth gave one last shudder before releasing its grip. The promise of spring returned soft and cool against her skin. “It’s like it never happened,” she thought.
          Isabelle stood when she saw her mother running toward her.  She took a few steps then felt something brush across her back, and she knew he was with her. She turned to face him, but only the gentle breeze of spring kissed her cheek.
          Isabelle’s mother put an arm around her as they walked out of the pasture. Isabelle stopped and turned… waiting for him, wanting him, “Where did he go?” she asked her mother. Something was slipped over her arms and a jacket was placed across her shoulders. “It’s not really cold,” she whispered. The jacket felt tight across her chest. She tried to remove it, but found that the zipper wasn’t in the front. She turned to face her mother and a strange man greeted her.
           “It isn’t much farther,” he said.
          Isabelle screamed and tried to get away. The man took a whistle from his pocket and filled the air with a loud blast. Two men came running toward them. She continued to scream,
          “Who are you? Where is my mother?”
          The other men approached. “I told you to keep an eye on her. Spring is difficult for Isabelle.”
          Isabelle tried to focus. Across the street, where her house once stood, she saw a four story building with barred windows. “What is that place?” she cried.
           “It’s your home.”
          Isabelle stopped. “That’s not my home; I’ve never seen it before.”
          He tightened the jacket then guided her up the stairs. “It’s been your home for 15 years now. You’ll soon remember you like it well enough.”
         
           


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