“The Song I Know By Heart”

“The thought of returning to the place provided me with a sublime sense of gratitude. I was happy to go back to it, no matter what the aftermath. Because what exists in that world is far greater than anything else. I'm not sure exactly how I expected it to turn out.

To be fair, I don't think I was really considering the consequences. I just knew that there was something wonderful available to me, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get it.

People think I am different than I was, and I suppose I am. Inwardly I am happy, but that doesn't show as much. Not on the outside. Because the outside isn't what matters to me. I don't shave, and I hardly feel the need to eat. The world is be-coming blurry, but I can't bring myself to care. When I am there, in that feeling, I feel such at peace.

And if people saw the world the way I do, then they wouldn't blame me for not wanting to leave, even if it can't be real.

I don't even remember anymore what had been hurting me. I spend most of my time reflecting on the time that had passed. Waiting on the moment when I will return to the place in my mind, somewhere that I swear I am waking up to when I dream, not the other way around.

The only memory that seems to be standing out to me is the memory of our meeting. Something impossibly large. Something too tall, too lanky, too knowing of what I wanted. It was offering a gift I couldn't refuse.

It was late at night. Very late. I was sitting in the dark. During the months of November and December, that became normal to me; a habit if you will. I would let my mind drift, trying not to focus on anything. Everything hurt and thinking about it, only made it worse.

I saw movement on the porch.

Despite that haze, I turned and looked. I thought I had lost it, thinking that my eyes were tricking me. The thing in the back was almost the color of the snow, except its black hair. There was so much of it. And it was barely breathing.

I could do nothing but laugh and look away, and forget that I had been crying. What I saw was impossible I reasoned. But I was wrong, even as I felt a groan I couldn't hear escape my lips.

There was a knock, and I turned my head back. It was looking at me. It seemed happy to see me.

I can't remember the last time anyone seemed happy to see me. I couldn't remember when the last time someone wanted to see me. But this thing...it wanted something from me. It was happy to see me, and I was sure that this was just as unreal as the feeling. It was as if I was dreaming. So, I went to the door, and I opened it up.

It was a dream. It didn't matter, I thought.

“It’s cold out here,” it said. “May I come in?”

I stepped aside. My heart was sinking. I was starting to remember something awful.

It closed the door and looked at me, its black eyes affixed to mine.

“You must find release,” it said. “Or something terrible will happen.”

I was tired. I found a chair and sat down. I didn't want to think. I was starting to hurt. I focused on a black corner of the room. I didn't want to look at it, whatever it was. I didn't want to look at anyone. I didn't want to be seen.

There was a hand on the side of my face, and I saw the thing. Its eyes didn't focus, but the look was unmistakable; concern.

“If you do not accept my gift, I understand. But in my place, something else will come. Something far older. But he won't give you a choice. And your pain...it can't be burned away. It cannot be lied about. Not to him.

He will hurt you”

I was confused and so sad. I hated every breath I was taking.

“Let me give you something during this season of need. Let me make you forget.”

It was a dream. It had to be…I had nothing to lose. I needed something, anything. I didn't want it to be a dream anymore. I wanted someone to help me.

“Thank you,” I said.

The thing smiled. Its knees settled by its head as it leaned down. And then, it whispered something. Something terrible and soft; a present of red and gold.

I don't remember waking up. I don't remember much of anything anymore, but in place of the memories is a feeling. Something wonderful, that I can't help but want. People look at me, and then nod, as if somehow they know. I am at peace, and when I sleep, I go someplace beautiful. I don't hurt anymore. Everything is alright now. I am finally happy.

I am at peace.

In this

feeling...

And I feel so thankful. And scared.”

I keep getting letters from people. I hate the letters. I keep telling the post office to intercept them, but they always find their way here. I keep getting more and more mail to the previous resident. Some are just stories, but they all sound mad.

It snowed the other day. But the snow was gone the next day.

It is Christmas...and I miss my children.