Category Archives: Story
I miss the old ghost stories
sitting in the shack
with my mother and grandmother
my sisters, my cousins, the second cousins
friends of the second cousins once-removed
smoke-filled room, teeth missing, smiling wide
much laughing and slapping of legs
someone chewing on a bone
the eating of wild meat
gutted fish and boiled clams
this was Cape Breton in the seventies
before the world invaded
before we were all connected and
running at warp speed toward the
end-of-the-world
before I could see that it was the only time
in my short life that
I could be happy
we sat there quiet, except for the storyteller
the only light the hurricane lamps
casting eerie shadows
I used to stare at the red viscous liquid in those
fat-hipped vessels
fascinated by the turning of the wick
slightly dangerous
the black smoke rising then dissipating
as we found the right balance
the smell sharp and pungent
something stealing the fresh air from my throat
the tea was a long-standing warmth
and sat lingering
like an old friend on the old oil stove
the wind outside was our constant soundtrack
the darkness our back drop
sometimes it was hard to sleep after these stories
which included sea devils whirling up from the shore
their fires burning bright
on the fence post outside
the time would come we’d run to the outhouse
our hair covered in towels just in case the bats
got caught in it
I didn’t really believe they would
but had to put on a show for my
mother, who was terrified of both bird and bat
anything with wings
is it because they reminded her of her plight
here on earth?
grounded
it was a brief time there without him
without his rage and violent purple tempests
but it wouldn’t last
I got to be a child there
if just for a minute
spent my first year of life there
on the run
until dragged back out of Eden
I returned
if just for a few intermissions
to those wide open arms of the great Atlantic
down home
before the regular storms arrived
© 2011 J. Noade
Dearest one,
I’m reading your love letter over and over. I don’t want it to end, but it always does. There comes the time when I have to fold it up and put it to bed. It’s a bittersweet moment. You seemed so sad there, but really I know you were so very brave. You took such a risk, and even though you changed my name ~such a lonely sound~ our secret could still be revealed. I wanted to come to you. I felt you calling and each night I bent on my knees in pain, wailing; my tears made an ocean of the moors and I was haunted like Heathcliff. You were my Cathy underwater. I swam in your seahorse dream then, but couldn’t bear to wake and leave it behind. I didn’t want to breathe air again. Can I tell you that I’m a little afraid? The world scares me so, but more than this I’m afraid that you will give up on me. I know you have to make a decision. I know it must be the hardest thing you’ve done in a very long while. I want you to know I trust you completely, even now. Whatever you need to do, it is the right thing to do. Even though our fingers may never entangle (again), I will always have this. You. What you did for me. I am so blessed and so full of your Love. Thank you. I will always be here. Whether in dreams or waking. Just close your eyes and you will find me.
Love,
Hiraeth
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye….you become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed,” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry).
photo by ThisYearsGirl
