The Things That I Could Not Say

Chaos and destruction, I can hear and feel it burning all around me. There's a ringing in my ears and an ache in my head that feels like the pounding of bells against a war drum. But there's also a smell in the air, a smell of ash and fire and bone that lingers like the perfume of an omen.

I opened my eyes, gasping at the cataclysmic inferno closing in on me. A million questions began to run through my head, but I knew couldn't stay here much longer, I had to move. Still in a haze I scrambled up, nearly falling, feeling like every one of my fibres were about to give in. A queazy buzz settled into the pit of my stomach but I tried to swallow it down. Rubbing my stomach for comfort, I turned in a circle to gather my bearings.

Everywhere, in all directions, all I saw was desolation. My heart sank down to my toes, rattling with horror as the fire poured down the avenue, coming for me. I scurried from my corner in a pitfall of rubble into the street. As I glanced around there was no one to be my company. No birds sang their melodies and no children laughed in play. There was only loneliness chanting her fire song.

Sore, I hurried down the street, past abandoned cars and gutted restaurants and hotels—where we used to eat and stay—guided by the red flaming claws that cradled the building's skeletons, leaving me no means of escape but towards a sign which read Moor Street Station 1.

I hauled through the sweltering street, trying not to trip over the bits and pieces of the city's remnants. By the time I reached the station, my lungs and eyes burned from all the smoke and exhaustion was settling in. But despite my dismay, I kept pushing forwards.

Tiredly I trotted up the stairs and rounded the corner of the train station. As I ran by I peaked inside its windows that had been blown out; the glass shattered into a crystal veil that cascaded across the bare station floor. I glanced away from the window and scanned the area, noticing that the train station had been the only structure spared by the blazing carnage.

The harsh whistle of a train billowed off in the distance. I darted through the barren station and out onto the platform, falling to my knees gulping for air, feeling my heart thump furiously in my throat. As I huffed and puffed, out of my peripheral I caught a shadow. I turned my head—instantly my blood stilled cold in my veins.

There was a man, tall and gaunt standing there with his back turned to me, dressed in all black on the corner edge of the train platform. His gaze was caught inside the raging fire leaping up from the hot iron tracks, which soared off into the dark tunnel and crackled in its depths like fire in a hearth.

I peered away from him, feeling lightheaded as the fire's grip from below wrapped tightly around me. Before my knees could give in I caught myself, feeling the rumble of the train's approach beneath my bruised palms.

A ball of dread knotted in my stomach. I knew I needed to find a way out of here, but there was something about the man that I needed to figure out. Something pulling me towards him, into his embrace.

Achingly, I jerked to my feet like a broken machine, and inched towards the man one foot slowly in front of the other. Nearing closer I could see him clearer now: his broad trench coat was covered in dust, smoke spiralling out of his trousers at the ankles like a roaring chimney and boots which gleamed like shiny ink.

A sudden rustle coming from the other end of the platform froze my pace, "Hoo, hoo." I snapped my chin over my shoulder and saw a barn owl, sat serenely on the stone shuffling its wings.

A barn owl. My mother had always worn that owl pendant with the aquamarine diamond eyes. I'd bought it for her on her very last...

"Hey you,"

The dark whisper called me back to the man, who's eyes were now fixed on me like a predator to its prey. My heart lurched. I remembered those green eyes, eyes that I’d met years ago that tore my life to pieces. Fabled by groomed falsities that left my vulnerable heart sinking. But it was so hard to leave those eyes.

Why was it so hard? I've always been a weak person.

Thick black smoke erupted from the tunnel, carried by the deafening howl of the locomotive whistle as the train soared over the pyre tracks. I tried to keep my balance, feeling like the world was crumbling down around me from the turbulent spiralling winds as the train came screaming to a halt. The man approached the stopped train—heaving open the door to the passenger carriage and stepped inside, while I cleared my throat of the smoke that retched deep in my chest.

After a moment the man ducked his head out of the gurgling carriage, reaching his leather bound hand out to me with a coy smile of invitation, "Come on, love."

At that moment our eyes met again, his drowning deep into mine yet, it felt different. They poured love and devotions into my heart like an emerald river of flowing rapture. Suddenly, I felt like I was burning in his passion, wrapped in an embrace that felt so safe, so familiar, so detrimental...

Why? I don't know, but I gave into the beautiful urge, reaching my hand out to his, lost in a reverie of his love that guided my feet to him. I could feel the searing heat from his glove trickle across my fingertips, like the devil taking my hand to the fire. Our hands were almost entwined when my feet grew heavy and my hand withdrew.

A sorrowful hoot cried out from behind me, "Love is blind, my dear," the barn owl softly spoke. "Clear your eyes of the smoke, and look at what awaits you. Haven't you suffered enough?"

The man scowled sourly at the barn owl, shaking his hand desperately for me to take it. I decided to listen to the barn owl. Something within its words had touched a wounded part of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering in the darkness as the train's engine growled.

After a second, I blinked them open and darted them into the man’s eyes. They were changed—shrouded in darkness with pupils glistening in a pool of scarlet fury. I glimpsed to the train, sitting there like a bird of doom idling on rails of everlasting fire.

Startled, I took a step back; feeling the barn owl's soft feathered wing brush against my palm. I cradled its wing into my hand, feeling a comforting warmth soothe my heart and an ease in the ache of my bones.

A thunderous clap shot through the sky, hammering a small terror into my heart as the train's door slammed shut. Through the dewy cabin window the man gazed out to me, waving a mockingly slow goodbye as smoke chugged out of the locomotive and hauled itself back into the brooding tunnel—extinguishing the tracks.

I didn't bother to react, only stood there calmly watching him fade to black, knowing that that could have been me going back into that tunnel. Back to the pain and the hurt that I gave into and forgave so easily time and time again. No matter the foolish mistakes that love had made me commit and the pain it had made me feel, I knew now that I'd made the right choice.

I shook away my thoughts, peering down at the barn owl as it tugged down on my arm. "Come with me, my dear. You've been strong and have reclaimed yourself. Now it's time to heal your heart and soul."

With a hoot the barn owl took flight, soaring through the blades of sun that gazed out through the waning storm clouds. I followed closely behind it, skipping down the station's stairs and across the tracks towards a forest which sat close off in the distance.

Before I entered the forest I stopped, looking back at the city that sat in a haze of smoke. The horror was gone, its spirit dissipating up towards the heavens as if the angels had snuffed out its flame. I took a deep breath, carrying a painful smile on my cheeks and stepped into the dense parlour of foliage.

The forest was ivy green, sprawling to life with the melody of song birds, the hums of crickets and squirrels rustling leaves from the branches, leaping from tree to tree with acorns in their tiny mouths. Still behind the barn owl, it glimpsed back at me to make sure I was still there then flew into a thicket of trees. I pushed my way through, scraping my arms and knees against the branches and came out the other side to a house.

Her house.

My bones iced stiff and my heart harped heavy down my spine. The barn owl swayed down from the sky, perching on top the broken weathervane as if to retake its place as the guardian of the winds. My guardian, guiding me.

With a heavy heart I walked to the door. If this is what the barn owl had meant by healing my heart and soul, at this moment, it felt beyond repair. Not even the toughest plaster could heal the guilt and sadness sealing the loose cracks within my heart.

Nervous, I glanced up at the barn owl warming its chestnut wings in the sun's rays. It bobbed its little white head cooing a hoot, so I exhaled, turned the door handle and stepped inside.

Shock hung me motionless with one foot in the doorway—tears glassing over my tired eyes as I saw her. Unchanged and beautiful, nestled there in her favourite corner of the sofa, with a cuppa earl grey tea steaming at her side. I could smell the sweet scent of her lavender perfume dance through the air, and she still had those chipped knitting needles working hard in her elegant time stained fingers.

She could still be doing this, I thought. Knitting me that blue shaggy jumper because I was always complaining that I was too cold. But rather, I let her fall asleep that afternoon and upon waking she searched for me; scared and breathless—I knew deep down she had been—and I was not there. I was away at the train station, spellbound by noxious love, foolishly contemplating our future. So she went back to sleep, and got lost in the tides of the ocean of her dream that carried her away from me, forever.

I tried to hold back the pain, steadying my emotions, but it choked deep in my heart. "Mum," I coughed out, skulking slowly towards her.

Her fingers halted, tangling themselves in the yarn as she rested the jumper on her lap. She gazed up at me, parting a wide smile across her plum lips that tore my heart in two. "Ella, you finally came."

So many things that I wish I could have said. So many things that I could have done to save her. Why was I so blind? Why was I so weak? Why was I too late? Why wasn't I a more loving person? Maybe that's why I let love ruin me...

I have to say now, I told myself, I have to say it now.

I fell onto my knees, holding her velvet hand to my lips feeling my heart fizz, "Mum, I am so sorry that—" the words caught in the whelps of my tears. I tried again, letting it all spill out. "I'm so sorry that I was so damaged and frail that I became blind to what was happening right in front of me. I wish I could have been there to hear you, to help you and be able to repay your love and comfort and warmth which you brought me all my life. And brought me all those nights that I was ready to break, by the same person who stole my true self and love away from you. Away from me."

She exhaled, taking me by the cheek, raising my wet chin to meet her azure gaze and beautiful bright smile. How I missed that smile. She wiped the tears from my jaw, "You tried your best sweetheart. How can I hold a grudge when you tried? We were both suffering through our own fight, my dear."

I took a jerky guilt ridden breath, pushing more tears from their ducts. "How could you forgive me when I left you scared and alone?" I did. "You could have had more time, I could have done something more, mum. The last thing you should have seen was me holding your hand, telling you that you’re going to be alright, that you're going to pull through. Not loneliness and terror in a dark room. I could have saved you."

My ankles gave into the remorse, sending a whizz of pain through my hip as I hit the floor. But the pain was nowhere near the agony that surged through my heart. I wheezed feeling hopeless, laying my head on top the itchy knitting; feeling my mother's long fingers brush over my hair. How I missed this nostalgia...

"Ella," her soft hum hovered above me. "If only you could see through the brick wall that you’ve built around yourself, you’d see how much that big heart of yours loves and cares. Then you’d understand why I forgive you." She gently lifted my head from her lap, staring earnestly into my heart. "You weren’t there then but you’re here now, and it is never too late. Sometimes, things that are supposed to be happen when we least expect them to happen."

She was right, she'd always been right. After all the disarray and torment that he'd set ablaze around me to burn away my old self, I'd built a wall to save whatever—if there was anything else left, of my old self to protect the memory of who I once was.

My mother smiled, rummaging in her apron for a moment then took a silver chain. She dangled it in front of me; the blue eyes of the owl pendant gleamed bright in the sun's reflection.

"You gave this to me to symbolise your love and strength for me when I needed it most. Even though you weren't with me, I always wore you over my heart. Now, I think you need it more than me, my dear." She took my hand, letting the chain ribbon into my shaky palm. "Take this and wear me over your heart. I love you, Ella." She said, placing a soft kiss onto my forehead.

Solemnly I squeezed the necklace in my palm, pawing away the damp guilt from my cheek. "I wish—" the words seized again. "I wish I would have said I love you more. I'm sorry that I didn't. I hope you know how much I love you, mum. And miss you."

As the words left my tongue, my mother was gone.

I jerked awake, draped on the sofa in my mother's house—boxes still unpacked—as the door shook violently against its hinges. A black silhouette pounded hard thuds against the stained glass door, each sounding like the droning of exploding bombs.

It's him. The shock of my decision had worn off.

"Ella?! Ella?!" his voice raged from behind the door in between bangs, sending an icy finger down my spine. "Ella, you'll never find someone like me. You hear me?! Never! And don't come back to me begging when you realise that!"

The shadow battered its fist against the door again, pacing madly back and forth between muffled groans. All I could do was sit there paralysed in a silence that felt so loud—my heart fluttering hard in my head. After minutes which felt more like hours, his shadow slowed then dimmed away from the glass.

Shaken, I got up and peaked through the slit in the curtain. My whole body trembled with unease as I took shallow breaths to try and calm my nerves. There he was at the end of the driveway, kicking a rubbish bin in a childish fit across the road like he did to my heart for all those years.

At ease, I stepped away from the window, slouching against the wall in reprieve, clutching the owl pendant tight which hung over my heart. I'd finally found the strength to leave, to step out of the fire. Though I knew I would never be the same—without my mother and my old self a wraith locked away in a keyless vault of my past.

I was set free from my chains.

In the calming silence, I stood there wondering why we really dream? Perhaps it's to be able to say the things that we cannot say when we're awake. Or, to be able to be strong enough to do the things we cannot do in the shadow of fear and ridicule. Or maybe they're gifts from our loved ones so that they can tell us that everything will be all right. That you did the right thing.

No matter what it was. Mother, I'm happy that you forgive me.