"He stood as did I, in a state of disbelief. I tried to move my feet but they would not move. Was I alive or dead? Was this happening or was I dreaming? I could see myself, transparent, holographic, just an image. The feeling, emotion, however, was real. Intense. Burning." Von raised his glass full, returned it empty. With unblinking eyes, ablaze in the story, he continued. "Electrifying."
Father? Is that you?
Son? Cerulean?
Father, I have so much to say. So much.
Son, can you hear me? Cerulean? Son?
Father. Father!
"He looked as if he were looking through me, as if I wasn't standing there and I watched him reach out, his hand passing through my faded image and the words rang, the kind of words that haunt the wake and torment the sleep, that know neither time nor space. I can hear them now. They live in my head. Clear as day. And they hurt no less. Father. Don't leave. Father. The words are in my ear now as they were then when he spoke, speaking as he passed through me, his lips to my ear, in my head, inside of me, he spoke and I felt the words more than heard, felt them in my soul, every nerve of fire, wanting to move my arms, to hug him, hold him. And I couldn't. And that is the hell I live with."
Von lifted his glass. The others, silent, followed.
20 comments:
This chapter jumps ahead in time. Bravo is back in space and Polaris is a memory.
I've read this now four times and I still do not know what to say, I read it again to find my beginning and I get to felt the words more than heard, felt them in my soul.. and I feel Von's heart, feel him feeling those words and I can stop, take pause, catch breath, a luxury that Von doesn't have, and he is the father, he is the one. I, and say what you want, ;), have never known, never seen or read or heard and I have seen, read and heard some in my time, a writer who is able to evoke such intensity so quickly, I've said before you chapters begin even before they begin, they begin with titles and images and completely within the first line, perhaps in part it is because it is an ongoing story, in part because one knows the characters and the story, but it is only a small part, a single or few degrees on the scale of effect, of reaction, this is just simply that good, this as in all your writing, up close and personal and brilliant and full-on. Imagine, is what one does when reading, and yet so often you go beyond that, to a place where imagining becomes impossible, where it simply cannot reach those highs and depths, where what one knows only is that what is involved, what is felt, thought, is limitless and all-consuming. Father. Heart-clutching. Perhaps I will be lost within each time that I read this, today, tomorrow and every day after that, but maybe with enough there will be words that spill forth of the wow. So good it is almost too much. Love the story. Now get over here so that I can finally give you the tightest of hugs. :-)
Like most chapters, I had no intention of writing tonight, when, from a moment, my heart opened and I let the pain spill forth. I won't mince words, the pain of Von is my pain and what he says here is what I live. Thank you, as always, for your kind words. I would write for you and you alone for to have a reader like you is to have the world entire, the world such that all is as it should be and nothing else is needed. Think about that for a second. I can't say it any better. Love to you.
Poppet
Chilling. Sad... makes me wonder if that is what it is sometimes, rather than the joy of softly singing angels....
Happy Thanksgiving to you, dearest Tree - hugs !
Annie, Happy Thanksgiving to you too. So nice to see you stopping by. Hugs to you and that wonderful kitchen and what I imagine to be a scene from heaven. :-)
Mr. Tree,
I'm just glad to know that Von gets out of that font okay.
The way you put yourself into your writing is truly amazing.
Happy HAPPY Thanksgiving.
Have fun stuffing the bird.
xoxo to you, Mr. Tree
I am thankful for catching up with The Story, The Story, Tree--the host with the most, and ...butter.
Strumper, my cheeks are hurting from smiling at your comments. :-D
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, hope you have a very special evening. Replies and whatnots tomorrow. H
Thank you Ms Storm. We had the usual fare but with a fried turkey this year and it was wonderful. So I ate like it was my last meal and then full-belly sleepness took me into a glorious warm-sheeted afternoon nap. Now, I'm trying to wake up by eating some more. :-D
Denmark, Day Two.
Imagine the camera as it closes in, zooming to show a scene almost identical to one earlier, to one yesterday, identical but for the degree of light coming through the windows, a woman sitting at a table, a cup of cooling coffee and silence except for the slight hum coming from the illuminated screen in front of her. Her eyes are watching the screen, like it was a film, moving images rather than stationary words, moving up before the end, down before the beginning and returning to the middle time and time again. And the expression, part pleasure, part torment, woven, closer than close, smiles and tears, hands moving from where they rest upon the keyboard to cross and cover, to ease and clutch, the sensibilities of a touched heart. Touch. Of the deepest kind, showing of oneself, giving of oneself, this is my heart, these are my words, take them if you will, do with them what you will, put like that it is not only and long-established a very special thing to be able to write, write in the way that you do, but rare too though it shouldn't be for any of us to allow ourselves to be bare. Truest and most beautiful of colours. I'm babbling here for what I foresaw yesterday is true indeed, this chapter is as impressive as the count moves beyond the second hand as it was the first time. I've been doing this for three years now, commenting, and though each chapter is original and marvellous in a completely different way from the one that preceded it, the response, the thoughts that occur when flung into awe are often repetitive, which is a good thing, but not so much when it means that I too often end up saying the same thing here, and yet, here it comes bubbling again, for my gosh, My Gosh, there is no rise and no fall, from the first sentence and through to the last there is maximum intensity, unparalleled beauty - there go my hands again, to think of Von's heart, as though his were mine and in the holding, I can soothe. And yet above it all, above the words, above the ache, above the haunting of wake and sleep, there is the undying, complete love between father and son. You write and the world fades away. Exquisite, the chapter, your heart, mind and soul. Consider this part b, if I ever I can reign in the consuming wonder for long enough, c will say what a and b were unable to.
Ms Storm, I started reading How to Read a Poem last night. The first few pages, which can be found on Amazon, are my response. Here is the deal. I'll keep putting messages in bottles and tossing them to the sea as long as you promise to keep finding them and reading them. Deal? :-)
:-) Best offer I've had in my lifetime. Deal.
Wonderful image, looks like a tribal mask.
This is especially powerful for me because it reminds me so much of my son and his father. I think how Von feels is the way his father feels too.
Happy thanksgiving Tree, and thanks for shaping a feeling into words that I can save in my journal for all eternity.
--snow
Snow, you are very, very welcome. Thanks for the kind words and Happy Thanksgiving to you too. :-)
Thanks Deb. I liked this one too. I did three different versions. :-D
words are sometimes really the hell you live with. Some of them never leave you & keep coming back. as true for Von its true for everyone else.
Very true Mona. I've got my share. Both the words I said and the ones that never left my lips.
Any regrets REAL regrets between a parent and a child would indeed be a Hell to live with. I am making mistafes everyday, but if I could just avoid Hell...
Again (and again and again and again...) great chapter.
Jen, I agree completely. And believe me, I make my share of mistakes with my son too, no matter how hard I try otherwise.
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