Babbling Dixie Part 2

A year and a half later, I had gone back to the scene of, “It never happened.” Driving a different vehicle because the other one never did fall into place. Memories of, never-happened, that somehow never left a mark. God is like that.

Memories are a distant vile when they pour forth emotion. Closer to the heart they can bring a sort of resurrection. A freedom from thoughts that bind. Crippling fear walks backward. Forward march is a better thing and leaves harness behind.

I drove slowly past the house with daylight streaming everywhere and it all looked the same. The sun shone down as if there was a hole in the ozone right over the place because of the chemicals in the air. In the blazing sun it's strange how there is a clean and defining essence of change because they are gone now. Both are dead of natural causes and chemotherapy took them both. Which might be a kind of wonder for all the misdeeds hidden under a blanket of asshole-ness. I pray sometimes for karma for people like King David in the Bible, but death takes them anyway instead of having them live it out. I barely stopped, slowed down as I stared. The overgrowth was still there but now had a tinge of yellow grass that encircled the yard. There was not a breeze to be felt.

The cemetery was two miles up the road and to the left. I didn't know that, I had to look it up. There was not a car in sight, not a person around. I pulled up and parked beside the grave yard then walked nature's aisles between the headstones. I found them there lined up beside one another, their names clearly spelled out. After a quick look from side to side, I hiked my kilt up around my waist careful that there were no shadows peeking. Then I squatted and pissed on each their graves.

Back in the car I turned the music up. Gas indeed. I checked the meter, now for the ones that had sanctioned the whole thing. I think they even paid him.

I had a few more places to check the addresses of. Not for revenge sake. I don't believe in revenge. I don't believe that people should force their will against others, the point. In that way we stay resolute to karma. There had been so much done wrong over time and no help. So what would perpetuating cycles of karma do except spin it around again. No, I just needed to confirm the addresses of a few so that I could continue my own private investigation to know – where are they, and who has the money now. No detective or officer am I but a psychic has their own set of skills, yes we do.

I found the houses easily enough. All too paranoid to move. Then I went home and my mind filled with lucid dreams so clear I could reach out and touch them, My babies, my little dogs, stolen in an illegal eviction for which I was left to be blamed after a house flood. Promises that it would never happen to the winds. Like blame would erase all the things they did.

I saw in my dream little Noble running toward me and my whole being was filled with love and tears. I called out over and over again, “Bring him home to me, I don't care just bring him home to me, bring him home to me.” My cries never end.

Books By Lisa Lachapelle (dit Langlois)