Out of Mind
This post is part of a fiction series. If this is your first visit to the series, please read the first post here BEFORE reading today’s installment: http://andrawatkins.com/2013/04/22/out-of-sight/.
My father locked me in the root cellar when I was a boy. No, wait. He didn’t just lock me down there. He threw in a few snakes. Poisonous ones. I can still hear them, hissing along the floor.
All right. I’ll give you that. I’m a bullshitter. I like to spin a yarn.
The truth? He died when I was eleven. Left my momma and me with a whole pile of debt. Now, I’m not looking for sympathy. I know who I am. I led men. Served my country. Was even decorated. Celebrated by presidents.
I can take responsibility.
I don’t remember the last time I thought about my father. You’re making me soft, you know that? Talented, you are. A real people person. I like that in a fella who might be a friend.
Where was I? Oh, yes. My father.
You know the best way to forget a thing? Put it out of mind. Don’t ask me how to do it, because I can’t give you instructions. I just figure you can make your own truth, if you want it bad enough.
Hell, I’ve forgot whole lifetimes by now.
But, I’ll always remember the first time I saw Ann. Now, don’t go rolling your eyes. This isn’t one of those ‘she shined like a star across a crowded room‘ kind of stories. I mean, I know I’m a roly-poly, Santa Claus type, but even he has his limit with sap, right?
Nah, I’ll never forget those first moments. How could I when I was wearing the imprint of her hand on the side of my face?I shit you not.
She stepped through the line on the dance floor, and she slapped me. Not one of those pathetic little girl slaps, either. Streaks of lightning, that’s all I saw. When everything cleared, though, I really looked at her. Petite. Pretty. My soul lived behind her eyes.
“Who are you?”
I spent the rest of her life trying to answer that question. All the way up until I lost her. She never gave me an answer.
And yet, she gave me everything.
Sorry? What happened to her? That’s what you want to know?
He killed her.
Newer readers may not be prepared for my fiction. It’s dark, and I don’t always know where it’s heading when I start. Nevertheless, a series of fiction, for however long the voices hang around. Enjoy, and thank you for reading, for commenting and for spending time in my microscopic corner of the web.