A Lifetime

A Lifetime / Prologue & Chapter 1 - Part 1

PROLOGUE

Be honest. Even when it feels like the hardest thing to do. Because it's not. Losing someone is the hardest.

This difficult truth was beating her in the face...in the chest.

The truth, as she knew it to be, was that the one, the soul that spoke to hers, gave it all back. I wasn't good enough for him to keep, to savor, to care for.

He just handed it all back. Not tied in this pretty little bow, but in this ugly web of deceit. Wait, he didn't hand it to her. It was thrown at her like she was the same. The same as all the others before her. And after her.

He didn't want her love anymore. He didn't deserve her trust, so he relinquished that back to her as well.

Now, it was ripping her heart out. She grabbed the steering wheel and nearly collapsed on it. As her forehead laid against its leather exterior, she could hear her door open. She looked up over her left shoulder. Her mom was looking down at her, tears filling her eyes too. Her eyes drifted to the blood-soaked shirt that she knew was once her daughter's favorite.

"Come on."

She walked her daughter inside.

Chapter 1

How is it that the moon can appear even more beautiful, more mysterious while reflected off the surface of a body of water?

Tonight, as with most nights, she was its captivated audience. She shifted in her chair to allow its position to move away from her direct line of sight. Of course it wasn't a brilliant light, so it could easily be stared into. She just found herself mesmerized. Time slipped away as her thoughts wandered. The moon had a way of manipulating thoughts to its will.

She had a lot on her mind, this was no time to get lost again.

"The Living Sculptures of Pemberley" embraced her thoughts more than the moon. Her playlist was comprised of her favorites that inspired her to write. And this song had the power to transport her to another time. It was magical.

She enjoyed other styles of music too, but those times were for allowing the music to fill the room. Those styles of music motivated cooking, exercising, or just entertainment.

Her writing music was always instrumental. When she wrote, words played out in her thoughts, worlds began to spring to life in front of her. So, the words of a song only got in the way.

As her mind would get stuck in a rut, she'd change positions. She'd leave the painted walls and soft coziness of the house for the inline planks of the boat dock.

She always thought a dock resembled a man. Romantic and rugged. It could be strong yet shift slightly when the water grew heavy with activity.

It felt safe here.

It was the dead of winter and much too cold for swimming, but she didn't care. Though swimming was by far her favorite outdoor activity, just sitting here was a close second.

Having been raised on the water, she had no fear of it. None. She actually found that she wrote better, just being near it. Similarly to a painter with his view of the meadow or mountains. Or a beautiful model perhaps.

Her muse?

It seemed so.

She only recently discovered the mystery of the water's ability to assist in her writing. She never realized how being this calm could finally permit her to hear the words that were trapped inside of her.

She often wondered how many people were trapped as she had been. Knowing something, feeling it to their core and something in this frenetic world blocked it from them.