The Shaded

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It's astonishing how fast day can turn into night.

I watched the sun speak its final goodbyes through the kitchen windowsill as it set itself in the western hemisphere of the sky.

Dusk overtook the house. Shadows came out to play.

The air was colder. I know I've felt it before, but never like this. I watched through the windows and scoped out the trees in my backyard, noticing a few white figures in place, their heads angled toward the house.

I could say that the young are overwhelmed. Danger to children is like the outdoors to a dog. We wonder what we're being shielded from. But I can't say now, after everything, that I haven't been that child. I can say that I wish I wasn't.

A creak from the stairwell intrigued me to investigate, welcoming me to my old ways of curiosity that I had assumed were dead.

I walked over and came to find a letter, placed on the top of the second floor, patiently waiting.

I have to forgive myself for everything I've done.
Everything I've thought.
Everything I've imagined for myself. Acceptance is so close.
And I can finally say I know where I really am.
I know what parts of me have slipped away and the parts I have yet to gain, and the parts I've never lost.
And I know what I must do.
I must rescue my present because it's being stripped away from my hands.
I haven't gone too far.
I know I've been drifting away, but I can feel my feet on the ground again.
I just have to run.
Catch myself if I can.
I have to regain what's been stolen from me.
And I can do that.
Yes. I can.
There are no more shadows now. I can see my path because I'm looking the right way.
Because I've taught myself something.

What once was in the past the now and is now the past, shaded from our future, is sometimes not meant to be rediscovered or rekindled, but rather forgotten.

- The Messenger

Somehow the past to me didn't feel like it should be forgotten. As dark as it was and as deceiving as she was to me, I wanted to remember a happy life.

There was someone here leaving me these. Was it her? Who else could it have been? All I know is that the corners of the page were burnt and wrinkled with age. There is age in this house. How much age?

I let down the note, placing it on the floor in the same position I discovered it in, as I could hear gentle sobs and shivers echoing through the house from the hallway.