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TITLE (EDIT)
In My Dreams |
DESCRIPTION
this story hit close to home and I'm not ashamed to admit that I got teary eyed. Please feel free to comment on it or any of my writings, I would really like to get your feedback. you can fill out the form on here or use my e-mail. beau47630@hotmail.com. thank you
[1,206 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Relationships |
AUTHOR
Beau Hefley |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
i am 42, single and live in New Mexico
[July 2011] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
beau47630@hotmail.com |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (6)
Illusions (Poetry) This is a poem that describes not the life that we see, but the one that we don't. [115 words] [Teenage]
Judgement (Poetry) being single, a friend talked me into joining an online dating site. As i browsed through the descriptions, indiscrminately choosing to search further or completely ignore people based upon looks alon... [165 words] [Motivational]
Sentiment Of Sorrow (Short Stories) I wrote this after watching a history channel series abour the civil war. It wasn't the blood and bodies i noticed so much as the look of weariness on the soldiers faces. [590 words] [Action]
The Moonlight (Short Stories) I wrote this while sitting on a beach in Alabama. [481 words] [Fantasy]
The Unspoken (Short Stories) A story for anyone who has ever been in love. Please feel free to e-mail me at beau47630@hotmail.com with any comments about any of my stories or poems. [1,046 words] [Romance]
Yesterday's King (Short Stories) How often do we sit back and just thank God for the people and things that we have in our life? Maybe we should. [1,259 words] [Literary Fiction]
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In My Dreams
Beau Hefley
In my dreams
I wake up from a dead sleep and sit straight up in bed, trying to pierce the dark, hoping beyond hope but there is nothing but the ghost like silhouettes of furniture and the empty silence to greet me. I close my eyes tightly trying to shut out the sound, trying to lock away the pain, but it doesn’t go away.
“Daddy”, I hear them say in their little voices, “why did you leave? Were we bad? I’m sorry daddy, please come home”. An anguished moan escapes my lips and I feel the tears start to come as they have so many times before.
“God”, I pray, “Please let this be a dream, let me wake up and hear the sounds of their laughter coming from the next room or their voices as they yell for me to wake up and come play with them and if, in your infinite wisdom, you cannot do that, then please take me home with you right now because I don’t want to live another day without them”.
He chooses to do none of these things and I am left with nothing but a hollow space in my heart. I drag myself out of bed just as the sun is rising over the horizon and head for the shower. Mechanically, I wash and shave then step into the bedroom to dress.
Everywhere I look there are memories. Pictures of them as babies, then as toddlers and finally, as very young men participating in their first sports decorate the bedroom. “I have missed so much”, I think dejectedly. “They are growing so fast and I have missed it all”.
I feel the pain threaten to overwhelm me again and quickly push it away. “Not today”, I think. “For at least a little while, let me be ok”. I manage to get through most of the day, smiling when I need to smile, laughing when I need to laugh but inside there is just an empty void and no amount of laughter can fill it.
“You must be so proud”, my co-workers say as they slap me on the back and offer hearty handshakes. “Congrats on that promotion, you really deserved it”. I smile and wring their hands right back. “Thank you”, I say, “I’m really excited about this opportunity” while inside my heart breaks. “Are you out of your minds?” I want to scream. “This is just a job, it’s not my life, and it’s not what makes me who I am. I was “proud”, to be a father, this is just a bigger paycheck!”
Of course I say none of these things and people continue to offer me praise and advice until, feeling sick, I excuse myself and drive home. I look up at the house as I pull into the driveway. It is a large three bedroom stucco style home with verandas surrounding it on three sides reminiscent of Spanish artistry and design. I can still see them playing there.
“Your it”, one of them would say and begin to run helter skelter through the yard as the other chased him around and around. I can hear the sounds of their uncontrollable laughter and it is like an ice pick through my soul.
For a moment I hesitate to get out of the car, I’m afraid to move, afraid that if I do, the laughter will disappear and it suddenly occurs to me that there are worse fates out there than death. One of them is to walk into a home where once there was so much happiness and hear nothing but silence.
I sit there for as long as I can, letting the memories wash over me then force myself out of the car and down to the mailbox that sits on the curb. Opening it, I collect what is inside and scan it as I walk up the driveway, towards the house.
I grunt as I read the correspondence and unlock the door at the same time. “Nothing but bills and junk”, I think to myself and drop it unceremoniously on the polished oak desk that sits neatly against the wall .
I busy myself making dinner; feeling emotionally drained, and then sit down to eat in front of the flat screen television attached to the far wall. I push the button on the remote and there is a small flash and mechanical whistling noise as it comes alive.
There before me is a little girl, she has large almond shaped eyes that seem to cry out to you and a round, dirty face. She is dressed shabbily and sitting in front of a stream literally teeming with filth and waste. The camera pans from her to a tall gentleman with short white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. “Do you know this little girl?” he asks. “Well she would certainly like to know you and for just fifty cents a day, you can change her life in ways that you never thought possible”.
I quickly flip the TV off, my appetite gone and stare at the dark screen. My heart is heavy, saddened by the memories of my children but also heavy with sorrow for all the other lost little souls out there. “Of all the horrors that exist in this lousy world, the worst has to be the look on a Childs face when they have been hurt”, I think to myself.
Suddenly I feel sick again and lean back to try and calm my nerves. I wonder at times if I may be going insane, sometimes I wish I would. At least then I could find a way to drown out the voices that keep me awake at night and make me feel as if my heart is trying to rip itself out of my chest.
Standing up, I walk to the antique mirror that hangs in the hallway and stare at my reflection. I see a face that isn’t young but it’s not old either. It is lined with worry wrinkles around the eyes and mouth and deep furrows that speak of too many tears and sleepless nights. I turn away in disgust. There are times when I hate myself, not for the way I look but for the things that I’ve done and most importantly, cannot undo. Walking back to the living room, I lock the door then begin to methodically turn off all the lights.
I slowly undress as I make my way down the hallway to the bedroom, then slip in between the cool sheets. Reaching over, I turn off the bedside light beside me but don’t bother to close my eyes; I know there is no point. Part of me dreads the coming of the night and the tears that will follow but another part rejoices in it because no matter how brief the moment, for a while they are with me and I am whole again.
I lay quietly waiting until my eyes grow heavy and I can no longer hold them open then there is nothing. Somewhere deep into the night I hear a tiny voice. “Daddy, are you awake?” It asks. “I’m here son”, I say as I sit up and smile.
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"My heart goes out to my man in this story for two reasons ..#one because of the loss he has endured and #2 because the depression it has cause .I myself have lost a child So I found myself connecting with this character. I went through depression for many years after losing my child.Then one day I realized that he was waiting and watching me and I felt like I had failed him.I was so consumed with my loss that i didn't see all the things and people right in front of me that my pain hid.I was a empty shell of a person .So from that day on I have strived to be the best person that I can be .I let go of my hate for my loss that day and promised myself and him that no matter what i would not let that darkness find me again . I wish life had a happy ending but no matter what in the end there will be pain ether for you or someone else.It is a part of life and when you focus on it you only give it power! I would like to see a part two to this story one day and maybe us readers will find are happy ending we feed apon in the fantasy world .And to the author you are a gifted writer I am following your stories and they all are full of such emotion. I am sure you will touch home with many other readers. At first reading I wanted to know how this character came to loss his children but after thinking about pain and loss it really didn't matter loss is loss you connect to more people that way. To everyone reading my review please remember.." keeping a loss alive is not a life".Keep the stories coming Mr.Hefley!" -- lilly, T or C, NM, USA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2011 Beau Hefley |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
July 2011 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1885
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