WE NEVER SAY GOODBYE
A dotted field of grass occupied by bright yellow flowers shined in the sun.
Jackson stepped out of the 1982 Ford Mustang GT he owned. A silent apology was passed to his wife in the passenger seat as he suddenly acted on his urge to look at the sprawling field. Compared to the scorched summer that had encapsulated he and his Marines in Pakistan years back, he could be thankful that what he fought for, though foreign, led him to such a place like this.
For the last week, no, for him these last few years had been exhausting. This stop was just for a short moment. One to allow him to recover for what was ahead.
Putting another step forward he had gone from strolling amongst the side of the road to cutting though a crowd of national guard troopers, police officers, staff members, and members of the state congress. Most of them looked at him with expectant gazes, waiting for him to address them.
Pausing amongst the crowd, a head of gold caught Jackson’s attention. He blinked several times as he silently tried to locate the person, but alas nothing came of his search. Mind tricks he thought.
Amelia crossed his mind.
She was gone, and he promised himself a vow to find where she laid. In truth there was little he could’ve done. After Amelia’s death all the remaining assets under her ownership, what little fortune she had, was transferred to him. Along with being the primary heir to the family conglomerate, he now had other obligations to fulfil in her stead.
Yet he wouldn’t be stopped.
To the front of the room, Jackson manned a single podium.
“Revelations,” he began and ended.
Iron, the smell. Followed by the pink mist of a brain exploding into nothing more than liquid and vapor. His face tightened and his nose twinged; he once more stood in the deserts watching his men fall one-by-one. Long were the days of harassing the mechanics in the motor pool or pranking the department head and Gunnery Sergeant. All gone.
Those deaths—still as they may hurt—didn’t torment him. Closing his eyes, recalling one last time of her kind words, a single drop of water crossed his face. What is there to remember? For what we do, for what we wish, love never lasts. Shout, cry. He wanted to give in.
Amelia never had a soul. She would never go to heaven nor hell. He was a believer, something that was normally frowned upon in today’s world, but for what he knew it was more than enough to decipher that Amelia would never rest. A soft chuckle escaped. Despite his distance ever since their childhood, it was now more than ever that she felt so far away. Beyond his reach. In its own depressing manner, Jackson easily understood that part of the emotions he was feeling was the result of what he believed to be a fallacy of his own feelings. His sharp brown eyes would determine what he meant for both himself, his sister, and the world. If only he could see the reflection.
He had first met her a long time ago. When he was still just a young man to the world. Between the chaotic life of private schooling, church, and the ever-evolving world they inhabited. That time never lasted when he enlisted, then found himself later commissioned as a young, seasoned lieutenant. Those lives, it was something that could never be comprehended. No place—just himself now.
When he was ten, Amelia had truly gained consciousness. To this day he could still remember the glimmering look in her eyes. One of innocence, hope, and truth.
“Brother—” She had looked up at him saying the single word. Her voice wavering with curiosity and concern.
A flash overcame his vision. Hesitation grew in his body, an uncomfortable weight settled on his shoulder. It arrived from nothing, the void.
Nothing more than a heavy breath was noticed. Jackson straightened himself. He had to go for lunch with his wife. Afterwords it would be more than pleasant for the two of them to stroll around the next event they were to attend, a local school that he had campaigned at before. This wasn’t any normal place. To him it was a great achievement, both personal and statewide. Better equipment, more funds, breakaway from the federal programs for food. It all came together, perfectly.
Lunch went by. It wasn’t anything special. A sandwich and fries. Now he strolled the warm hallways of the high school. Few noticed him being escorted by the vice-principle, letting Jackson and his wife Laura Simmons-Violet. Even with his notoriety, she was the only one Jackson truly knew. Laura trailed slightly behind him, her hand in his own.
“We should go for lunch at that bodega again, I think it’s a good place…” Jackson half-handily mentioned. A bone to throw.
“So, what, a chance for antics…” Laura’s face momentarily flushed before returning to a crisp and bright smile. Her mind was preoccupied. “I’m fine with that. I’ll put in in for month’s end.”
Different from the scheduled path, a diversion was made by the couple, daring to step out into the snow kissed outside world.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Red and green.”
“No, Pink and green. See? That light over there isn’t a normal Christmas decoration.” Jackson bothered to explained as they watched a passing box truck.
He didn’t really know why that exchange happened. Nor why he responded. Such things were typically left to silence. He took note, being warry that his strings that kept him attached to Amelia had altered him. Hopefully not to a permanent extent. Jackson could manage dealing with such changes.
“Thank you. I know things have been tough in the family. I’m here.”
A grim smile passed his lips. Forevermore he would be grateful, that she was and always ever been his love.
“We’ll all adjust to it,” She continued. “The once we met, if there was a chance, I would take this guilty feeling and see her again.” Laura exclaimed bringing to light her own fantastical, hopeless thoughts. Her thoughts were once guarded, and now she made no attempt to defend them. It provided—made her a target.
“It’ll be too late to say anything now.” Jackson noticed the shift in her eyes as he continued: “If we were to say anything, what would it be? ‘I am glad to see you again. And I wish now you could continue to spare our fake love.’ To bestow such a fate upon her, when we left her to her own devices is something that haunts me.”
He never understood Amelia. Jackson never would.
As a gust of wind slammed against the school, Jackson shielded his wife as they began to return to the warming interior. A stray eye followed the falling flakes.
Flipping over his left wrist, he checked the time and realized he still had another hour of this tour. To the front a crowd of staff members had found them—he didn’t want to get involved with them—listening to their chattering would drive him mad. However, he would continue to pursue the end goal, to once more find meaning to the definition of success like Amelia did.
###
The existence had permeated for more than a lifetime. “She” was a part of this. Existing was nothing more than a figment now. What did it mean for her to exist. Something with an end. Everything else had neither an origin nor end. Now and forevermore, she wandered through the eternal beyond. The chords of life begged at her, cried at her, rid themselves of all sense.
Amelia was born a human. Someone that held God’s gift of choice, love, and of life. That of love born for destruction and creation. A mortal amongst Gods. A savior amongst men. Eyes forged of innocence, aged by guilt. Organs made to die, but to create the very facet of humanity. Clear blue. Crimson red. Her creation was the will of life, two beings coming together in the celebration of all that God had provided. Her very face was the reflection of such a creation, that of beyond behind something natural—normal.
Her skin being a normal pale gleam, she both absorbed and gently reflected the holy light of the endless skies. Everything about her was human. Her carefully crafted, glimmering, gold hair. The birthmark spread from her right breast to her shoulder. The ever-sharp contrast of love and kindness in the corner of her eyes.
For all her beauty, her connections, she was separated from the physical world. From life. Her existence was merely ended in the blink of an eye. Made by a choice of man. The exact same freewill that their God gave them, to live their lives as they pleased—people don’t need a reason to live, they just live—to continue the cycle of life of death. For what she felt, for what she wanted. Devoid.
Amelia was human. Now she was a being of death, collected by the final watch. Her emotions mattered not Her form was gone. She wasn’t even a reaper guiding lost souls—no duty for her to stand.
What world she once knew was plagued by death, a monochromatic painting. Her life stopped. Time ceased. Life and death, up and down blended. Light, darkness. The cycle continued. Here, where she once stood, the world was full of sounds, scents, sensations—voices. Chords of those that lived, those that continued living. Even those near death, or those that finalized their dues and went beyond the abyss. Her chord—distinct—had fell to silence. Where no echo dared to resonate.
She was brought to this world, Earth, for a last-ditch desperation by the Lord. To bring his word amongst the people, his greatest creations. She was never destined for such a life. At least not in the way it was extinguished. Even if she had accomplished such a grand goal, the parades and charades that would follow would only serve as a mere distraction. Here, dead, she served her purpose perfectly.
What was her objective? Could she even trust the people she worked for; the people she trusted? She was no judge, jury, or executioner. A guide even, that was better left to someone else. Even offering solace to others. It was never her mission. Wandering a void alone. Amelia was never the only one, but even if she could hear the constant voices, they would never become companions to her existence.
The last voice she heard on voice, it was silent. A final call for her name in the wind. She stood at the precipice of death, surrounded by love and hate. Her nostrils flared with the thick stench of blood and soot. Beneath her the familiar comfort of one of humanity’s creations caressed her skin. The landscape was still flat. Covered in the ethereal white snow that stretched well beyond anything she could ever hope to see.
Beyond the touch of her fingertips, those that had also fallen looked at her with hollow eyes. It was a familiar sensation. This would never be the last nor first time she had seen this. War would never change; destruction was part of humanity’s nature. It was one of the easiest things to accomplish in this world with little challenge.
“Savior.”
Snapping her head up, her spinal collum was compressed sending a shockwave of pain through her broken body. Her breaths remained ragged as oxygen flushed through the frail tissue, ready to burst at moment’s notice. Raising her feeble, blood crusted hands, she could just barely skim the surface of the young man standing before her. He was a Marshall, one of her kin. One wearing the same olive-drab uniform he died in, yet it was now forever changed by the rips and blood that ruined everything. Her eyes widened further as the body shattered to her touch. And in the lasting gaze she saw what remained of his soul – fear, pain, regrets…
Love.
Drip.
Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It wasn’t her tears.
Amelia’s eyes snapped open wide as she stared high into the tarnished ceiling above her. The place she inhabited was lost to time. The once elegant blue dry wall was chipping. And she sat below a breach in a wall tile letting a steady stream of droplets hit her head. Where was she? Why was she here? The memories of her life were all scattered and lost. There wasn’t any logical reason for why she now was looking up again at Earth.
Letting her head fall, her soiled golden hair draped across her body. Her eyes traced the tattered hospital gown she wore with nothing more than basic undergarments underneath. Her hands were secured in place with a medical-grade zip tie (one from Home Depot), and her body was covered in scratches, bruises, and lacerations.
“What…”
She slowly rose her head. A mirror as adjacent from her.
Her eyes widened…
A tint of red occupied her eyes.