Ana's Ghost

There is no suspense, leaping from the past to the future, just breathing in between.

 

Ironically, there's simply no time to experience anything except your own heartbeat, the sound of your own breathing.

 

 She thought this as she watched the fading sunlight glint off of the razor blade poised in her right hand.

 

 Tormenting thoughts filled her mind as she thought about pictures full of memories of her lost love who had faded from history as if he were just part of her imagination.

 

Time is such a feeble thing. When the shadows of love taunt you like the villain in your life story.

 

It is this that caused Ana's distress: she had gone through it all, and no one had come to save her from the cruelty of the world, no matter the time.

 

She watched as the sun hides her face behind the horizon, her outstretched pinks reaching for his dark blues, their infinite chase for love.

 

It was now or never...

 

A spark on the horizon caught her eye, a flash that should not have been.

 

That spark might alter her actions for the rest of her time - time that she wasn't completely sure existed until then.

 

Ana turns back to her room, haunted by the ghosts in the picture frames surrounding her.

 

Something strange was going on.

 

 The ghost of her love appeared in front of her as if she was dreaming. Shocked Ana gasped trying to figure out if it was real or just her imagination playing a cruel joke on her.

 

 She felt sick. She shook her head to know everything was just a piece of her imagination.

 

Except that this "piece" suddenly spoke, telling her she should leave the past alone, its final words as it - or was it he? - glowed back into obscurity, "To change the past is to play God with all life in the future, Ana. Leave it alone."

 

 She gave a deep sigh, not understanding the games that were being played between her mind and her heart.

 

 A strange sensation in her hand distracted her; she looked down to see that she had made a fist around the razor, and it had sliced partway into her palm.

 

She panicked, not knowing why, but scared nonetheless.

 

She had sliced her wrist and the pain was cold, she waited for death to come and take her far away. She closed her eyes thinking of him again for the last time, tears then brushed her eyelids as the pain got unbearable.

 

"Ana!" She heard someone calling out her name and opened her eyes, as the rivulets of tears cascaded down her pretty face.

 

A crimson wave flowed from her wrist, spilling to the carpet at her feet like soured wine. Again she heard the voice, this time docile, a whisper caressing the edge of her hearing like one final kiss goodbye.

 

Darkness took over as her eyes closed for what felt like forever. 'Is this it? Is this what death feels like?' she thought.

 

Ana felt a sensation of cold and soothing warmth at once. As though the chills of life had settled in her bones and the release of death was thawing her through.

 

She heard someone else calling her name, this time a familiar voice from the past, and she opened her eyes to see nothing but white and the ghostly figure of her lost love.

 

This can't be right, she thought sadly. He's dead. He cannot help me.

 

Her crushed soul lingered in the dream world, wishing that somehow she might see her lost lover once more.

 

And then, like an epiphany, there was music, music that awoke her from a dream she didn't realize she was having, to a reality that was both a relief and a despair - the dream had convinced her that she'd used the razor to cut her wrist and end her life instead of using it to cut through the continuum to bring her into the past, while the reality showed she had only sliced into her palm and she was still here, undying, filled with woe.

 

The music told a strange, alluring story of heartbreak and betrayal, the soft melody attempting to describe her feelings.

 

"Ana? Oh good you're awake," a voice spoke from behind. She turned to see her sister walking into the small bedroom and work her way over to the dresser with a large round mirror sitting on the top of it and a bowl of water.

 

"What have you done to yourself?" the small girl asked, alarmed. She rushed over and snatched the razor from her sister's hand.

 

She was half listening, she felt normal, the pain was not as everyone talked about it. Her heart ached more than her hand.

 

Tears bereft of feeling caress the contours of her cheeks, falling hollow on to the blade still perched between feverish crimson fingers. “Why Ana?”

 

Ana had no explanation for the child.

 

Stuttering, she attempted to sit up, her muscles sore.

 

"H-help me..." She was able to say before she collapsed, crumpling to the floor like a torn curtain.

 

Spots dance in Ana's vision and her head swims with the sudden loss of equilibrium.

 

 She doesn’t know how long she was out but when Ana opened her eyes, the light was blinding. She blinked against its harshness just as a shadow came into her view. “My darling, are you alright?” Her love’s voice was familiar and soothing.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.10.2013

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