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Barn Storming

Healing can be a rough road to travel

By KCPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
3
Barn Storming
Photo by jesse orrico on Unsplash

Down by the river was her favourite place on the farm. As a kid, Bree had loved to just sit in the dappled shade and listen to the water trip over the rocks and pebbles as the water made its way along. She must have sat on every good rock, climbed every tree she could along the river in the back paddock. Now, years later, it was a place that again provided solace. Somehow it was a place that allowed her to rest and find a semblance of peace, something most welcome after the last six months.

It still hurt. Bree supposed it would always hurt some, but she knew she would continue on. Jess had been right, coming out here, getting away from it all had been the right thing. By no means had it been an easy decision. To walk away from all that had been her comfort zone was anxiety inducing. She needed to do it.

Every morning when she woke she remembered and the dull ache would thrum through her, starting with her chest. If she gave in to the grey the thrum would spread and getting out of bed became a chore. Reaching over to the other side of the bed brought tears, and breathing became hard.

For the first little while gasping for air had felt like a normal thing. The low-grade head ache was always there, squeezing at her temples. Every day having to get up and go to work, facing friends and work mate who knew, who looked at her with pity and more in their expressions. The forced smile, around the lump in her throat was her go to each day.

‘I’m getting there,’ she’d say, even though it took every piece of her fractured will power to meet their eyes.

Jess had come to visit. She had somehow sensed that her sister had needed her, despite her fervent protests otherwise. She had never brought Bree’s lies. Bree had, to be honest, not really had her heart in them. It would have been hard considering it had been ripped out and was a squooshy mass somewhere outside her body. Of course, she knew that wasn’t really possibly but it absolutely was how it felt.

And so, Jess took one look at her, not even getting through the door, before asking where a suitcase was. Bree had merely blinked at her a little bit in shock. The last of her control shattered. She collapsed in the door way and cried. Ugly, snotty, gut churning, heart-wrenching, bawling. Unceremoniously Jess pushed her sister inside and shut the door on the outside world. Then sat on the floor and wrapped her arms around Bree. Holding her for as long as it took. She didn’t speak, she just sat.

When the shudders and tears eased, Jess moved Bree to the lounge, wrapped a blanket around her, placed a kiss on her forehead and went to pack. The next day, when the sun crested the horizon Bree woke on the farm she had grown up on.

Bree’s eyes flicked skyward as the first drop of rain landed on her nose. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there, Jess had taken her watch, saying that healing took as long as it took and the she was not going to let her her sibling be bound by time.

Another drop of rain hit her cheek, followed quickly by a dozen more. Bree tilted her face upward. Tears from the heavens tracked down her face, washing through the valleys created by her own tears. Bree stood and spread her arms out, palms up to catch a few of the crisp, cold drops.

Then the sky opened, and Bree heard Jess calling her name. Inexplicably feeling a little lighter Bree turned her face towards the barn and started to run. Jess stood in the shelter of the big wooden barn that had housed so many of their childhood imaginings.

‘Come dance with me Jessie,’ she shouted, as she spun wildly in the rain. In that moment, the sun started to shine, making the raindrops glitter, and almost without her noticing, the ache started to fade.

Short Story
3

About the Creator

KC

Book lover and writer of fantasy fiction and sometimes deeper topics. My books are available on Amazon and my blog Fragile Explosions, can be found here https://kyliecalwell.wordpress.com

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