Raindrop Memories (Part 1 of 2)

"...I never wanted you," said a voice, quiet and sullen.

Words repeated endlessly, deep upon deep, never to be reverberated in true by the vast emptiness of the void.

"I never wanted you. I lived through all of those lives, determined not to have you. You'd be a burden. You'd bear it too. You'd be a pain. And you'd always know it. You must know, I never wanted you. I'm sorry.

The memories replied, "we knew."

The intrepid Being known now only as the Wanderer sat back, ethereal and forlorn inside the carriage vessel that housed it. We knew. Those words striking to the innate core of the traveling specter.

"Did you... did you really?" glancing first at the throbbing emptiness at the end of space outside of the carriage, writhing against creation itself and the nebulas juxtaposed flush before it, then back to their collection of keepsakes spread throughout the ghostly room, the Wanderer contemplated.

"You were both so young then," said the Being of fathomless age, glancing at the fading image of a trio of adults, two smiling and one grimacing, "wasn't everything then? Three? Maybe four lives I'd lived? Hah. Hardly a blink in the day, if each wink were a life in my span. Earth was still a middling child. But that life... You two kids... Addison too. That was something else for me. I was still something human. So long ago, now...

Memories rushed to the last moments the Wanderer could see their faces of childhood in earnest; there were times beyond this, certainly. Days, months, a year or so. But this day and these few moments congealed in the crevasses of the mind.

The morning sun shone onto the frozen pool, amber radiance glistening as the godrays flickered delicate hands between tree branches to the pond below. One face smiled bright in front of the scene before him. The other pouted, sullen and irritable.

Tom, the brightling, shook with excitement, clutching his skates in one hand and satchel in the other. Lydia sulked, and rushed to isolated safety of the nearby ancient; a pear tree her grandfather had planted which was nearing its end.

Tom spat, defiant at the gesture, “fine! Go and SIT! ‘is your loss, Sis! I, on the other hand, am out to actually HAVE fun! Right?” he asks, looking wide eyed at the Wanderer.

“Right,” came the gentle reply.

“GOOD!” said Tom, bustling quickly to the pool’s edge.

“What-EVER! I don’t want to go skating on the ice? Big deal, ok? I hope it breaks and you shiver your thumbs off!

“Lydia! That’s enough!” said the Wanderer, Tom sticking his tongue out to his sister in retaliation.

“But he started it!”

“And I’M finishing it,” Tom smiled with wide, apple cheeked smugness until the Wanderer turned upon him, “and Thomas, stop antagonizing your sister.”

The smugness gave way to dismay, “but-”

“No buts. Knock it off or we’re going home.”

The bubble of dismay popped to begrudging acceptance, “…understood.”

“Good lad. Now go on, get your skates on, and SKATE already!”

Tom lit back up, “right!” and got to it.

Watching Tom scuttle aboard the frosty sheen as Lydia giggled accordingly brought a warmth to the Wanderer that stood in stark contrast to the December chill. Yet with the warmth came the familiar sinking cut nagging at the back of the mind.

‘This isn’t right,’ ‘it would be cruel to tell,’ ‘...it would be wrong not to,’ each phrase burning a cacophonous medley into the Wanderer’s psyche. Thoughts of Tom, Lydia, and Addison; memories of the past… and of when it had happened… When everything changed, in that first life...

Tom spun precariously on the ice, doing his best to show off and to aggravate, never noticing the ever splintering fingers on the floor beneath him. Each motion and superfluous twirl giving birth to yet another menagerie of subtly trembling fissures below.

Upon confirming that his parent was indeed preoccupied in thought, Tom skirted up to where Lydia sat reading under the pear tree. Grabbing a small patch of snow, he lobbed it at her, hitting her book in the process.

Shocked, she shot up, “THOMAS!!!”

He quickly skated away before she could reach him, the splitting fingers growing ever wider.

"Knock it OFF children!”

"But he…!” Lydia, frustrated, looked down at her snow covered book.

She shook it off quickly, and spotted a stray pear laying beside her. Without a thought, she picked it up, took aim, and launched with all of her force and will. And her will did indeed guide said pear crashing into Tom’s temple. The boy cried out and careened off balance, twirling and planting face first into the ice.

Lydia lit up, bouncing in place as she witnessed the carnage, “I– I did it! I hit him! And he was a moving target too!!”

Tom slowly sat back up, holding the side of his tear streaked face, “Lydia!!!”

"Okay! That’s enough, you’re BOTH grou-” before the Wanderer could finish the word there was a crackling thunder beneath Thomas.

The boy fell through the crack immediately, a hand lapping wildly at the edge of one side of the opening for purchase, a skate stuck in the ice point first at the other.

The Wanderer instantly rushed to the opening cautiously attempting not to fall through as well. Carefully, the parental hand reached for Tom’s leg. Horror soaked the air as when the Wanderer’s hand began to close the distance, Tom’s foot broke free, kicking and cutting at the foot of his guardian, then sharply sinking away.

"No!” cried Lydia.

The Wanderer stared into the opening and hesitated. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on the mind, and if even for the span of a heart beat, indecision loomed.

"Thomas…” wept Lydia, the word and tone cutting through the Being as a delicate heated razor.

There was another crash as the Wanderer leapt headlong into the frigid pond and searched for Tom. Moments later, the two emerged, the Wanderer laying Tom on the ground, the latter pale and unbreathing.

Immediately attempts at resuscitation began. In between each try, they looked to Tom’s lifeless body and cried out with all of their innate being for him to stay.

With a final compression, Tom coughed and began to heave. He looked up dazed and hazed at his parent, then to the weeping Lydia who was now gripping him tightly.

"I’m so sorry Tommy! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean for that to happen."

Tom shivered and coughed, “wh-… what do ya mean, Lyd? It… was… a great… shot… Besides… you… DID… say you… hoped… I’d fall…throu–gh…”

Lydia wiped her tears away, eyes flushed and cherry, “well, I didn’t mean it. I’m glad you’re ok.”

"Oh yeah..” said Tom, shakily lifting two up-pointed thumbs to her, “great time… didn’t even… lose my… thu-… thumbs…”

She slapped him lightly on the side of the shoulder, laughed, then cried. Tom looked up to the Wanderer, confused.

"What? Did… I…. say something?”

Tears welled in the eyes of the Wanderer.

"Tom… I’m so sorry,” said the being, causing more confusion in the brightling boy.

Now sobbing, the Being pulled him in close, “it’s just too soon... for everything.”

"Don’t worry… I’m alive… I’m not… going… anywhere.

The Wanderer stopped, looked at Thomas and Lydia, pulled them in close, and wept.

It was true. Tom lived long after. As did Lydia. For the Wanderer, the truth remained… one day, the Being would see them die.

The being known as the Wanderer broke from it’s trance, looking ahead in the void. Soon would be the reckoning. Inverse collapsing of nothingness suddenly eating away at the endless pallet of colors beyond the human imagination that lie spread across the cosmos. And here, at the end of all things, sits the Wanderer.

It wouldn't be long until the end, in truth. The thought itself is an interesting sensation. It had been so long since anything had felt soon. And this day… this moment.

The Wanderer looked to the vestiges of the family they once cherished; of Thomas, Lydia, and their parent Addison.. the Lover.

"Sorry I’m not going to have a chance to remodel you all,” said the Wanderer, reflecting on it’s usual practice of meticulously recreating each image every number of millennia due to the degradation of either stored files or natural degradation and half life of materials.

“Today’s… well.. I’m sure you know. It’s what we talked about, Lydia. On the day you died. With everything I am… I hope that you are safe.

With the rainstorm of memories inside the mind of the Wanderer, each moment as a raindrop in an untold maelstrom of their eonic life, one drop rings out.

Lydia lies frail yet hawk eyed, staring out the window of her room in hospice. A rapping comes from the door, and without breaking her glance she grumbles.

"Pretty sure I asked NOT to be disturbed today.”

A chuckle comes from the door, and Lydia’s heart skips.

"Well, I see you’re as sharp as ever young lady,” says the Wanderer.

She turns to the Being, eyes wide and filling with tears, “you… you’re dead! You can’t be here…you can’t…”

"I am honey. I’m here.”

She stared, struck and breathing sharp, before finally, crashing into the arms of the Wanderer, “oh God… I missed you. I thought you died… back with…”

She then hit the Being, solid and mid chest, her tears still flowing but her face contorting in anger, “the accident! The car crash… we never found you…

"First, ouch. Second, I was there… with Addison. By all accounts I should have died. If I were still a normal person, I likely would have. Even then… I was near the door…” the blood fled from the face of the Being, who stared off in a trance.

"What does that even mean?! And why do you look like you haven’t aged at all? What’s going–” as she spoke, Lydia burst into a violent coughing fit.

The Wanderer helped ease her back and attempted to soothe her.

"Lydia… I came for two reasons. The first, and most foremost… you’re my daughter. I love you. I missed you, and when I found out about this…

"Hmph. Yeah. Forget all of those other years, and screw Tom, right?

The Being slumped back into a chair next to the bed, dejected.

"You’re right, Lydia. I messed up. I’ve wasted time. I’ve made mistakes, and God… I don’t know how to fix them. That’s what I’m trying to say.

"You could start with ‘I’m sorry.’”

They nod, teary eyed, “I am. I’m so sorry for everything.

"It’s a start,” she coughs, “I don’t have long. Doctor’s said another few days a few days ago, and I feel it getting worse every moment… so please.. tell me. What’s going on? The second thing you came for… is it why you’re alive? Why you haven't aged? …Why you'd scream at night when Tom and I were kids?”

They look up to Lydia, “you knew about that?”

She nods, “hard to ignore with paper thin walls and your parents crying in the night.”

"I see... I'm sorry for that too. I’ll be honest. I was never going to tell you. Or anyone for that matter. But especially you kids or Addison. I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want you to live with it..

"With what?”

"With…” the Wanderer sighed, then met Lydia’s steely eyes.

“Alright Lydia. It’s time. I’ll tell you everything. The truth. What happened back then, and why I am what I am,” they took a long, slow breath, “I’m going to tell you about when I pulled back the Veil of Eternity.”

End of Part 1.