As Atwood sleeps, Marie wakes. Both unaware of the silent vigil they hold for one another as their minds adjust to what until now they were unwilling to see. He walks the earth, haunted by memories of her, a past that is also his present; the darkness is his true light.
She stirred, she could feel the night around her, but sensed the brightness of the lightening through her closed eyes and anticipated the thunderous noise that would soon follow. The relentless heat of the day was consumed by the storm and while she was uncomfortably hot when she had retired to her bed, she now shivered. She was unwilling to open her eyes, clinging to the faintest disappearing thoughts which accompany deep sleep. Alert to the sound of rain tapping her window, her eyes finally opened. Although conscious of her surroundings, she was unable to abandon her dream. Her memories of the day at the town celebration vivid in her mind but the details of the day were somehow complicated by a layer of equally powerful recollections that she was unable to reconcile. Visions and sounds that did not make sense. A feeling of familiarity, a place she knows but a time that she is unable to understand. In her vision, the dirt roads are replaced by stone, wood with metal, quiet with noise.
She would never be missed on a night like this, the creaking of the floors lost to the noise of the storm. All decorum was lost as she finished outfitting herself in her Uncle’s long forgotten trousers and shirt. Ohio was miles away, but old habits didn’t die in the fire.
to be continued…..