Stranded Memories

Violet woke, beads of sweat gathered at the nape of her neck. The room was still dark, the alarm clock next to her minutes away from the resonating shrill she turned off every night, and her mother reset after she fell asleep. It didn't bother her this morning, her mind to concerned with the all too abruptly real dream she'd just escaped from.

Staring up at the ceiling with a lifeless gaze, Violet knew today would be just like every day. A sigh of resignation parted her lips as she leaned over to prematurely turn off the alarm clock, letting her feet hit the cool wooden floor. The light assisting her sight was now a dull gray. It could've been bright pink and Violet still wouldn't have noticed, the world turning to black and white in the absence of a force she'd never realized meant so much.

Out of habit she pulled fabric from her dresser, a t-shirt and jeans she wasn't sure matched but didn't care enough to check. The sweat that still lingered cooled against Violet's skin as she slid out the front door. Her house was silent behind her, quiet like a sleeping giant that she knew in an hours time would be shattered by people rushing out into the world. For now though, the wide window eyes watched her as she wandered down the street, destination in mind.

Even in the early hours of the morning it was hot, humid even with the lingering dew. Violet scuffed past the browning lawns, the first casualties of the summer sun, looking for any speck of color.

Following her routine, she wandered further, now passing richer better kept houses and the occassional car hurrying off to work. That's all life was anymore to people, a frantic scurry from one place to another like crabs, lusting after money before the other could get it. In contrast Violet continued to meander down the neatly kept gray stretch of concrete. One house in particular she passed was like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Bushes heavy with hibiscus rose high enough to cover all signs of a house from the street. The bright blossoms hung heavy with pollen in all shades, their colors so vibrant it permeated even her faded eyes. Farther down, small meadows of Baby's Breath ans Snap Dragons sprung up, their color all the more startling against the tiny white blossoms. Her favorite however were the zinnias, all colored in an interpretation of the summer heat, just beginning to lick at her skin with the growing light.

These were just the flowers she recognized among the many other splashes of color surrounding and enveloping her in their sweet scent, stirred by the cool breeze. Her long hair brushed against her skin in the wind as she picked a few sprigs from each patch, not even making a dent in the bounty of blooms.

With her bouquet of stolen flowers in hand, Violet returned to her walking, the pilgrimage she'd taken everyday for the past three months. It was a miracle the path hadn't been worn down by now. After her dream last night for a short second she'd considered breaking habit, but it was a very short moment where she'd wavered from her resolve.

The dream however would not leave her thoughts, nor could she escape it with the long silent walk ahead of her. It was this walk that held her from becoming completely reclusive. The five odd mile walk had kept her from completely deteriorating under her sorrow; tan, fit, and a hollow shell. It was a surprise to anyone who saw her, expecting to see Violet wearing her grief. But this image of herself was not a product of acceptance, it was resigned determination like the soldier carrying on after their fallen king.

As the sun began to peek over the roofs and trees, the rod iron gates came into view. Hedged with high green shrubs along a brick wall it looked as if it was designed to hide the fact it was a cemetary, like no one wanted to acknowledge that death was inescapable. Not next to their perfectly edged yards and clean brick houses. They locked up these thought like the laquered black gates, waiting till it struck them and it was unavoidable.

Violet always arrived an hour before the gates were unlocked, not that time meant a whole lot to her anymore. Niether did gates as she firmly planted one foot on the ground, her other seeking out the crack in the brick before heaving herself over the mostly bricked wall. Flowers still at her side, Violet carefully climbed over the small row of rod iron spikes. And just like that her feet hit earth once more, leaving her among the dead.

The freshly watered grass squelched beneath her feet, loose pieces sticking wetly to her rubber soles. Violet noted as she passed the tended lawn, greenest spot in probably the whole city, that we seemed to take care of our dead better than the living. Or perhaps it was because they lacked the qualities that prevented us from loving the ones around us. They couldn't speak; they didn't judge or insult. They couldn't move; they wouldn't leave you. It all amounted to them not being able to hurt you.

We could pour our souls out to any one of these shiny marble grave stones and get the same result a two hour therapy session would be, only cheaper. All of it was based on our ability to see past an exterior with hopes that there was something beneath it that cared.

Not that Violet could say much herself as she travelled everyday to stand in front of William's grave and spill her thoughts and feelings. This act never erased the pain throbbing in her heart, but dulled it enough for her to get through another day. Repeat.

The two day old bouquet Violet placed there had already begun to wilt, their condition far below the standard she allowed. They were placed on the grace next to William's of a woman who had died eighty years before and never had a flower to her engraved name until Violet arrived.

With fresh flowers in the small vase, Violet sat down so she was facing the tombstone, ignoring the fact six feet down was the reminants of the boy she loved.

"You were in my dream again last night." She stated, her voice the other other sound than birds chirping and leaves rustling.

"This time you were talking. You said it was my mind creating you." She continued with a sigh. "I think it's bullshit."

Her words were abrupt but honest and from the heart, the one place she'd trusted the past few months.

"I've got three explanations for it. One, you're right and my mind is bringing you back into my consciousness to deal with losing you. Two, I've finally lost it. Or three, that it's a combination of both, that because of my weakened mental state you've somehow managed to shift back in from a different plane."

The words sounded sillier after she said them than in her mind. Violet felt foolish for saying it, though she knew if it'd been her and their graduating class there she still would've said it. There was no way what he'd said could be true, and it was not denial fueling this train of thought, it was absolute certainty.

"I know what you'd say if you were here right now. 'Jeez Violet, did you do anything other than watch SciFi over the summer?'" She laughed in a poor imitation of it and William's voice. "I would've devoted every day to watching SciFi if I had you here now telling me that."

Her fingers searched the damp ground without a purpose, plucking strands of grass in reach of her fingers. The water undernearth her had already soaked into her jeans but her mind was far from anything so trivial such as that. A passing breeze ruffled her long reddish hair, strands of it glinting bronze in the rays out the corner of her eye. This, the birds chirping, and the sweet redolence of the summer air, meant little to Violet as she reached her grass stained fingers out to touch the cool marble headstone etched with her beloved's name. Brushing a smear of green tinted moisture across the words William Beckett, she fought back the painful prickle at the corners of her eyes.

"I miss you."